Breathe

epilogue.

know this weight will
pass, and however long 
it takes, give yourself
kindness, give yourself
grace.

p.bodi

______

It had been three years since Clay's attempt, and in that time, he had to make a really difficult decision. The orthopedic physician Clay had been seeing for his hands had broken the bad news a long time ago- "Your hands will never be the same. It is going to take you a long time to re-learn how to write, let alone type and compete in Minecraft the way you used to." The news devastated Clay. He had been working so hard, and for what ? Now he was never going to upload or stream the same content he used to, which killed him more than he thought possible. 

So instead of throwing in the towel and quitting YouTube altogether, he rebranded his content.

Now he was the head of a thriving suicide prevention foundation that worked with licensed psychiatrists across the globe to spread awareness and teach teens about the dangers of mental illness. Clay used his platform to emphasize the importance of getting help and allowing yourself to be helped. 

He remembered the start up of his foundation like it was yesterday. It was almost like the idea came to him in a dream, because one morning, he woke up with the fire of motivation that could have inspired thousands. Running down the stairs, he spilled his ideas to Nick and George, who were just as invigorated by it as Clay himself. Together, the three boys recruited the help of Darryl, who had some background in this type of thing, and they grew Clay's idea into a business.

"What are we going to call it ?" Nick sighed one late evening after hours of deliberating ideas with the other three men.

George spun around in his chair. Darryl was flipping his pen into the air and catching it. None of the boys could focus. They had thrown around ideas all night, and so far, nothing had turned out to be good enough.

Suddenly, Clay's head shot upward. "I've got it," he whispered.

The other three boys perked up. "What's your idea ?" Nick asked.

"I want to call it The Nadia Foundation."

Darryl instantly broke into tears. George and Nick nodded; they had heard Darryl's story a while back, and they knew the importance of the name to both Darryl and Clay. 

With that, all four men agreed, and The Nadia Foundation was born. 

Clay took The Nadia Foundation across America, and then even into Europe and Australia a bit. He visited schools, raised money for charity, and spread suicide awareness all across the globe. Clay decided to take the large sum of money in his savings account and turn it into a scholarship for students whose lives were personally impacted by suicide. All said, his foundation was incredibly successful.

Clay was blooming. He had found what he was put on this earth to do. He was helping people all around the world in a way that was more impactful to him than Minecraft. He was able to relate to teenagers from each corner of the globe, and he was able to understand their pain. Clay was not able to feel the wind of his impact before, but now that he was here, standing on top of the mountain thrown before him, the breeze brushed over him like satin. 

Though he had never thought in a million years this would be where he stood, he could not be more grateful. Every day he remembered how lucky he was to be alive. Though the scars that ran from his wrists to halfway up his forearm were memories of a dark time, they kept him sober, and for that he was grateful as well. It kept him grounded and humble. They were a reminder that he was human. Distinctly human, and nothing more. He was not a monster. His demons did not make him less deserving of love or treatment than anyone else. 

He was human. He had to learn that the hard way, but he learned it nonetheless. He was not invincible to the pain the earth so loved to cause, he was not immune to the shock of reality and the ache of loss. He was beautiful and loved, but one can assume it took him a little bit to realize that. Though he had been through hell and back, he was beautiful regardless, and he was life and breath. 

Every night, before he went to bed, Clay looked at his wrists. Sometimes the phantom of pain was more present than others, so on those days he let it hurt. On those days he laid in his bed and cried, letting himself bleed and letting himself hurt. Other times, he would look at those scars, remembering the ache and remembering the fire, and he would keep breathing. He was breathing.

In, out.

As he went to all these school and saw thousands of kids in need of someone to talk to, his heart broke. Clay wanted so desperately to help each and every one of them, but he knew that was unrealistic, so he emphasized the importance of reaching out to someone, anyone. Someone they trust. Someone who could help them breathe.

In, out. In, out.

Clay was living. He was breathing. He was in control. Sure, he had his tough times, but he breathed nonetheless. He could feel the warmth in Nick's hugs and the peace in George's comfort. He could see the change physically- his skin no longer hung off his bones, instead his body was lean and full, and he was healthy. His eyes shone like emeralds, and his smile glittered like diamonds. 

Clay could move freely in his own light. 

He was free.

He was remembering to love.

He was remembering to cry.

He was remembering to breathe.

In, out.

In, out.

In, out.

______

you are not your illness,
not your trauma, wounds,
or hurt. you are not
defined by the pain
in your mind, you are
illness second, and 
human first.

-p.bodi

(800)273-8255 - suicide prevention hotline
1(866)488-7386 - the trevor hotline (lgbtqia+)
1(866)331-9474 - teen dating abuse hotline
1(800)656-4673 - RAINN sexual assault hotline
1(800)DONT-CUT - self-injury hotline