PERFECT PLACES

One Year Later

[Jonathan - One Year Later]

It is obvious, since I am back writing here again, that I did not die last April. Actually, I didn't even make the attempt. Sarah found me in my room before I managed to convince myself to stop typing and go do it. When she found me, she just gave me a hug. She didn't say anything. She just held me and squeezed me as strongly as she could, like she wasn't planning to let go for hours. I don't know how much time passed like this, but her contact made me feel warm and calm and cared for.

Campus security eventually came to my room and Sarah finally let me out of her arms. Cole had also made it to my room by then too and was sitting on my bed. The officers asked me a ton of different questions, and decided that I was at imminent risk of attempting suicide. Which meant that I had to be admitted to the hospital.

I only stayed in the hospital for four days. During those four days, Sarah came to see me every day. She told me that Cole had a concussion and wasn't supposed to go in public places until he recovered. She told me every day that they were waiting for me to get out so that they could see me and hang out with me, and it really made me feel some joy every day that I was there. I asked the psychiatrist if my parents had to know about the visit, and she said yes, and so I accepted my fate. My mom and my dad and my sister all came to see me on the fourth day, right before I was discharged. I was discharged because I was found to not be an imminent risk to myself anymore.

My mom stayed in town for two weeks following the hospitalization. She was worried about me and I really didn't mind the company. She cooked me meals in the kitchen and cleaned my entire room while I rested. I let her read some of these chapters, which was really hard to do, but it was easier than trying to explain it to her in new words. She cried several times as she read them. It took her a long time to get through the portion where I decided I was going to make an attempt. It was really hard for her and it was really hard for me to watch her read it. It was even harder for her to get through the letter. She read it only once, and it absolutely destroyed her. She fell down onto the floor, convulsing and sobbing violently. She had to call my dad in private afterward to talk to someone about it. She even managed to read it to him over the phone, slowly and with great difficulty between tears. My dad talked to me on the phone afterward about it. I'd actually never heard him cry before, and he cried for over forty-five minutes as he told me how much love he had for me and that if I died, a part of him would die too and he would also struggle to keep living.

These reactions from my parents completely changed me. It was like a strange alternate reality where I could see the consequences of my irreversible action. To this day, I can barely think of the day my parents cried without feeling excessive amounts of guilt, self-anger, and remorse. I know I was in a bad state when I wrote the letter and almost attempted, and I can't blame myself for that. But if I ever feel even remotely close to attempting, which I admittedly have a few times (although it's been a few months without any such thoughts), I just remember the details of that day. It shocks me into a powerful urge to keep going. And it always will, I think.

I have been going to therapy twice each week ever since I left the hospital. I also take antidepressants (SSRIs) every day, which also help with my low mood and anxiety. My therapist, Ben, has also read the document and the letter. And we've been going through the hard parts, sentence by sentence, to try to change my beliefs about myself and try to improve my anxiety, mood, obsessions and panic (I have a lot of different problems, I know), which I've realized ALL can be improved if I put in the work. And I really am improving already. I'm a different person than before, in a hundred different ways. I find that I'm calm more often than not, happy on some days (although I would be happier if I was not still grieving), and I'm working on my obsessions too. The only one I still do every day is the alarms, but Ben and I are working on that right now. We haven't really worked on my panic attacks, because I haven't had any since the hospital. I think my overall anxiety level has decreased a lot and that's why I haven't had one. If I do have one in the future, I feel confident that Ben will be able to help me get rid of them for good.