Please, Stay.

Dear Reader,

Depression is… dark.

It’s something that -oddly- the word is thrown around so much.

I get it.

We’re all going through the thick of it right now.

But I don’t understand things the way I used to anymore.

Before, I used to laugh it off and joke with friends saying, “I’m sooo depressed!”

But now…

After my panic attack on March 4, 2024, everything is different.

I found out what depression actually was.

It’s not a mood.

It’s not a phase.

It’s not an aesthetic.

I don’t understand why people are joking about it.

It’s a real thing.

I wanted to… take my own life.

A mother of three (at the time) and a wife (to a loving husband with an abundance of patience) with a dream stitched into the seams of every part of me.

I knew nothing else but wanting a family and to be a published author, so when I got hit with this very huge wave of… despair.

I didn’t know who I was anymore when I decided to speak openly and say I give up.

“It’s not meant to be, Jacob!” I cried as I dropped to my knees, slamming my fists on the carpeted floor, tears firing out like bullets, burning my eyes like fire. “I’m doing all this for nothing—NOTHING!” I sobbed, “No one even cares about me! I’m not gonna make it! I give it all up! I’m done!”

And I really thought I was.

I went weeks on medication. Doctors telling me what I should do. Psychiatrist telling me how I should feel. People are still telling me, after 27 years, what I should be doing with myself, my life, and my body.

I was one of those people who joked about depression, anxiety and panic attacks.

My Lord, I was humbled and I’m sincerely sorry that I took it so lightly.

It’s lonesome.

No matter how many people support you or reach out.

I just wanted to be alone. I wanted everyone to leave my mind, my body, and my soul alone.

So, when the day came that the serpents whisper did not leave my ear, I held the knife certain that it was the only way. Everything felt clear.

But luckily for me, I still had something pulling at my sanity. Telling me to return.

My children, my husband, and my dream.

Not a lot of people make it out of the dark, and my heart grieves to acknowledge, but I do. I acknowledge them. The Fallen… Forever in my heart and on my mind.

And I cannot be more than grateful that I did not give up, but to those of you who are still here with us, I’m so thankful.

We may never meet, but I love all of you dearly and pray every day that you continue to hold that candle high and light your way.

You never know who might need it one day.

Because life is hard, but it won’t stay like that.

I share that testimony. Here. Now.

If I had ended myself, I would never have given birth to my precious boy, Haven. Which yes, means safe sanctuary.

I would never have moved to this big beautiful home.

I would have never knew that I was going to start getting paid to write.

I would have missed it all.

Things get better.

I promise you.

Stay.

Breathe slow.

Be Kind.

One more day.

Please, Stay.