One night, I just didn’t think that I was enough. I struggled to see anything good in myself, or in life. It came to the point where I was so depressed, that everyday was a miracle that I somehow miraculously survived. I’ve been fighting depression and anxiety for years, and I just didn’t think that I had any worth. The demons inside my head, crackled as they insulted me. I was screaming. I was tired of hurting. I was tired of being used. Tired of crying. I just didn’t want to deal with pain anymore. It was around 11:45 at night, when I slowly crept down the stairs. Careful not to make a sound with the creaking wood. When I finally made it to the kitchen, I opened the cabinet, and with my hands shaking reached for my medication. I must have emptied most of the bottle. I turned the sink on ever so slightly so only water dripped Into my plastic cup. Drip. Drip. Drip. I listened all around me. Just silence. Tears rolled down my already wet cheeks, and with a shaky hand, I lifted the pills up to my mouth, and I swollowed them all. I was in shock, and disbelief of what I had just done. I put the cup back down on the counter and turned off the light, and made my way back to my room. I laid in my bed, and pulled my comforter up to my chin, and closed my eyes, wondering what was going to happen to me next. It was like 10 minutes, before I realized that I didn’t feel good. My stomach had this burning sensation, and my head began to turn side to side uncontrollably. I began to vomit in my mouth, I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t let me. I tried to move my legs to go tell my parents what was happening... I couldn’t move. I tried talking.. then screaming.. nothing. The phone rang around 12:15. It was Daniela asking my parents to pick her up. My mom came out of her room, to see me blue and purple in the face, and vomit all over myself. I was choking on my own vomit. My mom yelled my name over and over. I tried to at her, but no words came out. I was pushed to my side, and I heard my mom yell at my dad to call 911. My brain started to become fuzzy, and everything felt like a dream. I was rushed in an ambulance. The paramedics telling me to speak and open my eyes. I couldn’t. I could only hear bits and pieces of what they were saying. “ critical condition. Life support. Ventilator. Breathing tube. Overdose. Suicide”. I woke up in the hospital, with a bright light over my face, and a breathing tube down my throat. I had wires connected to me all over, stuff up my nose, so many IV’s and blood samples. A nurse came in, and grabbed my hand, and whispered to me “ the choice is yours. The doctors don’t think you have a strong enough of a immune system or enough strength to recover from this. But I believe that you don’t want this to end. You fight for every breath, even though it’s going to hurt like a bitch, you take every breath like it’s your life, because it is”. Then gave my hand a squeeze and left. I must have dozed off, because when I woke up next, my mom was next to me. She gave me a slow painful smile. I tried to smile back, but I couldn’t because the breathing tube was blocking my mouth. I began to reach for her hand, until I realized that Kyle, my boyfriend was also in the room. I’ll never forget the look that he gave me. The look of horror. The look of relief as he saw that I was still alive and he wasn’t too late. The look of sadness and guilt. I reached for his hand, and he grabbed mine and intertwined our fingers together. I saw tears escape from his eyes, and his sniffles as he came up to my hospital bed, and gently gave me a kiss on the forehead and whispered “ I love you”. I longed to say that I loved him back, but I couldn’t. Instead, I felt hot tears strolling down my face. He wiped them with his fingers, and just sat down next to me the entire day. After a few days had passed- my breathing tube was finally removed. I was able to breath on my own again! When the nurse had asked me to say something after the tube was removed, my throat was so sore and my voice was so raspy, but I managed to spit out the words.. “ I love my boyfriend”. All the nurses smiled and laughed and told me that it was cute. After a few more hours, I was able to eat some food ( after days of not eating). Kyle fed me all sorts of food. A nurse came in later and told me that I was extremely lucky to be alive, and told me that I should highly consider going to an intensive in patient therapy program. I was devastated that I couldn’t just go home, and learned that I would be spending a few nights in a mental hospital. ( I’ll explain what the mental hospital was like in another time). At the end of the therapy program, I was able to return home. Of course, my mom did daily check ups on me, and hid all the pills in the house. I’m not telling you my story for you to feel sorry for me.. I’m telling you that I’m a suicide survivor. And in all honestly- it was a miracle from God. I died in the ambulance for about 10 minutes, until they brought me back to life by the time I reached the hospital. I am so grateful that I was given a second chance by God to show my worth, and experience life. I regret taking those pills, and I regret trying to take my life. But I can’t dwell on the past- only the future. If you are experiencing depression/anxiety please reach out to someone! I’m always a message away, and could help you get connected with professional help! Please don’t fight this alone- you are never alone and I’m here for you. Don’t be afraid to ask for help, from whoever that may be. #BEBRAVE #SUICIDESURVIVOR #BLESSED #REACHOUT #DEPRESSION