Choosing Life Over Death


When I was in China, an incident happened where someone I love very much assaulted me.

It was one of the most hurtfuldays of my life, and though I have struggled with suicidal tendencies for six years, I had never felt so suicidal in all my life. I was crying all day and when I got back to my hotel room, the tears flowed like a waterfall. I was in a rock bottom place in my life, realizing that each one of my family have abused me. I felt betrayed from what that person did to me that day, and it made me feel very much alone. When I cried out to God, I felt like the devil answered instead.

With no way to communicate with my friends back home, I stayed in bed and thought about suicide. A way to end my pain and to escape this misery I had been fighting against for so long. The next day, I told my mother how I felt, and she turned her head away without saying anything (she sweeps everything under the carpet and pretends it doesn’t exist). Things became worse when my father became increasingly unsafe to be around, and I realized that even though the one person who I lived for assaulted me and broke my trust, it was really who my father was and what he had done that made me want to kill myself.

For so long, I have given my love to people who abandoned it or rejected it. I have tried my best to restore my family from its brokenness. But even more difficult was that I have been trying to fight my depression, my anxiety, my insomnia and my suicidal tendencies by myself and for so long that it came to the point where it overpowered me and convinced me that life was not worth living for anymore. I don’t think people know or understand how hard it has been for me to not become a bitter person. I don’t think people see how the fight of my life hasn’t been overcoming what I have been through, but how hard it has been to climb out of a bog of sadness and hopelessness after it all.

I planned everything. I planned out how I was going to end my life, down to the very last detail. I thought of a will. I wrote a suicide letter. I thought of everything. But when I thought of how the people I love would take it, I broke down. Even though my mother doesn’t know me, no mother should ever have to bury a daughter. No girl should ever lose her best friend. No 13-year-old should ever lose her big sister. And though I felt very much hopeless and tired of fighting, I realized that my life could go two ways.

One way was what I just described. I could give up, end my life and be just another girl who once lived, soon to be forgotten within the next couple generations. When people think of me they wouldn’t think about my writing, my love for travel or my once strong passion for hope. They would say, “It’s so sad how she killed herself.” I would be another sad story.
The other way was to keep going. To surround myself with people who were going to help me with this battle. To find hope in something. And it was this path that I chose.

Coming back to New Zealand, I am still breathing and fighting and loving and I am so proud of myself for that. Seeing the people I love, my friends who have become my family, makes me want to keep breathing just a little longer. I made a plan: to move out of home soon and get out of this toxic environment, to distance myself from people who do not appreciate me and worst of all make me feel hopeless, to finally find a good doctor and see a therapist for my illnesses, and to invest my energy and money into emotional healing. Nothing is too expensive when it comes to that. I would rather be hungry than to live at home, I would rather be broke than depressed and I would rather invest my whole life into healing than to end it.

Mental illnesses and suicidal thoughts are not meant to be dealt with alone. It took me six years to figure that out, and by that time it almost defeated me. We need people to help us along the journey. We need to find hope in something and hold onto it with all our might. We need to choose life everyday and believe that it will be worth it. William Somerset, in the movie Se7en, said this: “Ernest Hemingway once wrote, ‘The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.’ I agree with the second part.”


Image via A Certain Kind of Woman