“Suicide isn’t logical,” J. told me, matter-of-factly, in a recent session.

I was sitting on the comfy couch in his office, sinking into its cushions, flabbergasted he would say something that outrageous. We were just talking about my mountain of pain, composed of past and present woes that still fester like sun-bathed wounds when poked.

“What do you mean? Yes, it is!” I retorted.

“Suicide is not logical; it’s emotional,” he countered.

I scoffed. Might have even rolled my eyes. “How is it not logical?”

“When people are in their right mind, no one logically thinks of suicide as a solution. (Here he said the all-too-familiar “therapist phrase”: Suicide is a “permanent solution to a temporary problem.”) It’s emotional…”

The realization wasn’t a faceplant into a brick wall; it came slowly like a turtle trekking across I-95 in the middle of work traffic. “Then why have I…?”

There was a softness in his gaze; a serious longing for me to understand him. His voice was gentle with a twinge of sadness. “Because you’ve romanticized it.”

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face. Well geez, ok! Punch me in the throat why don’t you? With all this pain, what else is there to do?

I don’t remember the rest of the session; I can’t recall if I threw a pillow at him immediately after or let some time pass before pelting him, but that part has stuck with me.


I’ve cried, periodically, for the majority of the day. I’m almost to the point of tears now. 

I’m not supposed to yearn for this; I know better. 

And yet, the siren song has been increasing in volume for the past week, the past few days; this is annoying. Next week is a trauma anniversary—that lasts the whole week—and I don’t know how long the tune will last this time.

Changing My View

No one comes running for the girl who cries “suicide” and still continues to live. After a while, voices fade and she’s left alone with all her dark everything.

I’m finding that the way out is through fixing my eyes on Truth, on Jesus; worshipping my way out even, or especially, when I don’t feel like it. Having a mindset of thankfulness, even if it’s something as small as “I’m thankful for the wind and the beauty of the midmorning sky in this moment,” is paramount to have when you’ve been hyperfocused on coping, suicide, and death.

My prayer now, and especially for the week ahead, is a simple one: Please keep me, Lord. Help me to trust You and walk with You, hand-in-hand.

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