top of page
  • Writer's pictureA.S. Morris

Two steps forward...

I have been trying to decide when I wanted to write this post. This post will be heavy with my personal touch of sarcasm and humor (well, I think I am funny-ish). This post will focus on suicide and can bring up feelings and emotions you may have. These feelings may be directed towards me or other life experiences you have had. Please know, not reading this post is OK. Be kind to yourself and your needs.

I have spent a great deal of time lately thinking about the events that transpired this fall. What I thought was a concerning amount of time. I brought this up with my therapist and she shared it means I am getting strong enough to start processing all the things. Trust me there are a lot of things. And, if you know me, you are aware that I tend to take on the big challenges first. The low hanging fruit are not for me. My therapist will likely disagree on that statement. Therapy can be tough and draining. Some sessions are ugly and some sessions I am just not into it. The sessions that get ugly usually lead to some softer low hanging fruit sessions. A time to recharge.

Suicide. It’s not a dirty word. It’s not a taboo word. It’s complex. It’s surreal. It’s heartbreaking. It’s my reality. A path I never thought I would walk. A word I never thought would describe me. I was smarter than that. Braver than that. I was fine. Turns out, I wasn’t fine. I went from zero to sixty with my depression. I said “I’m fine” more times last year than in the prior 33 years. I’m sure folks knew I was telling half-truths, and with the situation we were in, people understood the “I’m fine.” I was very closed off, didn’t really share much, and just kept going through the motions. I was “fine” if I just kept going and just kept pushing. I’m strong. I’m intelligent. I got this. I didn’t have it. I was so far down the rabbit hole I didn’t even realize it.

There is no one thing that lead me to suicidal ideations. It was a culmination. The thoughts don’t appear overnight. For me, they started to appear when the pain became greater than my ability to cope. A pain that I had never experienced. A hurt that I didn’t know was possible. I tried a few coping strategies, they were terrible choices, and ultimately lead me down a path of self-destruction. As time progressed the pain got worse. A pain that you can’t articulate. People would ask me how they could help, what did we need? With our situation there wasn’t a good answer. I didn’t break my leg or fall down the stairs. That would have been easier. If you’ve ever seen the movie “Major Payne,” I did the same thing, except instead of a broken finger, I ended up with a broken spirit. A major depressive disorder (which at the time I told myself I didn’t have) and a broken spirit lead me to my rock bottom. You get to point where you aren’t thinking logically. I am still not sure how I got there. Like I said before, it’s so many things that lead you to this path. These aren’t normal thoughts. Suicide is not the answer and I can see that now, nine months ago, I couldn’t.

I have a friend who picked up on my intent. Till this day I am not exactly sure how the pieces were put together, I am not sure it really matters. They intervened. They gave me no choice. And held me together in the emergency room as I awaited a psych admission. They knew I had lost the ability to make safe and sound decisions. I’m sure I was difficult and likely a pain in the ass. For me, I was fortunate enough to have a friend to love me enough to save me from myself. There isn’t a Hallmark card or edible arrangement that expresses gratitude for such a friendship. I am still an occasional pain the ass and they still call me on my bullshit. A friendship that is shifting back to normal. I hope.

Normal. A benign word that I have craved. 2020 likely has everyone craving normal. I returned to work from leave and shortly after we entered a pandemic. As much as I loathe COVID, perhaps this great shift for everyone is beneficial in me finding my new normal. I have a lot of things to relearn. Learning to express myself. Stop being so closed off. Realizing its okay to not be okay. Being vulnerable isn’t a bad thing. Speaking up even when you feel you lost your voice. Like I said, a lot of things.

Am I cured? No, depression doesn’t work that way. Have I made progress? Yes. Do I still have a long road ahead of me with setbacks? You bet ya. Unfortunately, in some ways this is a battle you face alone. Only I can determine how I handle the setbacks or the successes. My confidence is still shaky. Some days I am stronger than others. Some days it’s exhausting. Excruciatingly exhausting. There isn’t a tangible that can fix this. Tonight I was on the phone with my mom and she was being a mom and asked if I needed anything. I responded saying I needed a new white blouse. I believe she called me AmyLynne. I know I have people who want to support me and be there for me. I am working on branching out. Writing it out helps. This isn’t a story I want to explain 57 different times 57 different ways. This is a tough narrative to share. I know people reading this will have all sorts of opinions; good, bad, indifferent. That’s okay. My actions were not meant to hurt anyone. It’s also something you can’t understand unless you’ve been there. Trust me you don’t want to go there. The point of my writing is for me to find peace. Nothing more.

If you need help, reach out. Whether to a friend, clergy or the National Suicide Help Line. There are resources available and there is no weakness in asking for help. Believe me I know this is easier said than done, I wish I could go back and take my own advice. I will have to think my experience will be for good in the long run.

So, there you have it. A glimpse into this fall. I am sure over subsequent blog posts greater details will be organically shared. I don’t know what that looks like yet. My next post will likely be much more light hearted, some low hanging fruit. I am open to suggestions. Recipes, shoes, travel? Whatever it is, I am sure it will be much more entertaining. And mom, I wasn’t kidding, I do need a new white blouse.

184 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All

Reflections in Sequins

Reflecting on the past 12 months feels like flipping through a haphazardly assembled encyclopedia, capturing the highs, lows, and mundane moments that have woven this year's narrative. It is the beaut


Grief. A five-letter word that encompasses a cornucopia of meanings. Grief isn't linear and can't be tied up as a beautiful bow in the most luxurious ribbons. It comes in all shapes and sizes. I wasn'

1 Comment

Jun 23, 2020

Love you sis! You are so strong.

Post: Blog2_Post
bottom of page