Throughout life, I’ve considered the idea of ending it more than I want to admit. The slightest thing. The smallest hurt can spiral me into every emotion. Swallow me whole. It all goes black. I feel nothing, but feel everything. The thing that makes me continue, the thing that makes me feel again - is the thought of my future children. To tuck them in at night, to read them a chapter of Harry Potter before bed, to teach them to walk, to talk, to be a good person. To be called ‘mommy’. How dare I not give them a chance? How dare I take myself off of the table? How selfish of me to not give them that? That’s what keeps me doing. That one day, I’ll be tucking my kids into bed and whisper ‘thank you’ and they will have no idea why.
You saved me before you even knew me.
— A journal entry from June 15, 2016
