Don't do it.

Don't do it.

TL:DR The realization that if I killed myself, I would have left a messy apartment, bills, and other responsibilities for my sister to clean up (plus my death) ...and that stopped me from doing it.

Sharing this in case it helps someone else get through their darkest time. For the record therapy has helped me a ton, I have not had suicidal thoughts in years.

About twenty years ago, I felt alone and empty. I had come out two years prior and lost the majority of my close friends (church kids), my parents barely spoke to me which was a stark contrast to the daily calls from when I was in the closet, I was working to support myself and attend college for biology, and barely holding it together.

My biology courses had taught me a ton, the worst of which may have been the sure fire, painless ways to die. And as it would happen on a recent hike I had found one of those sure fire ways, growing in abundance... so I grabbed some in case it ever came to it. A few weeks later is when my darkest moment came. School had finished for the fall semester, I barely got a 2.5 (C's were unacceptable for me growing up). I had worked almost 60 hours a week the past two months and my bank account was just under $100 because next semester charges had cleared. Rent was due in a week, my mother was trying to manipulate me into going to an anti-gay therapist, and to top it all off my few close friends (roommate included) were all gone for the holidays.

After writing it down, and being in a better mind set, it seems like life wasn't that bad, but at that time I just felt empty and worthless; I knew the world would be just fine without me. I had taken the weekend off to recover from finals. At one point, I remember staring at the plant I had collected on my hike when I saw it again in the fridge, thinking "just swallow it! You'll have a nice nap". I closed the fridge, leaving the plants there, and headed back to the couch.

My phone rang a little later. It was my sister asking if I would be home longer than just Christmas day. We were close, but I hadn't told her what I was going through. I told her I might not make it, but if I did, I would have to work the next day so yes just Christmas day. She then asked if I had received a package from our godmother (I hadn't). My sister goes on to explain our godmother had just finished cleaning out her mom's house after she died earlier that year. There were insane amounts of boxes and come to find out open bank accounts, credit cards, (banks were a whole other fiasco she had to deal with) and a basement filled with years of hoarding. Our godmother had found some old pictures and they were in the mail. I can't say I was too excited. We wrapped up our conversation and as soon as I hung up the phone, it rang again. Work needed a server.

So as I am getting ready for work, thinking those plants will be there afterwards, I am finding myself lifting piles of clothes to find my apron, and another pile for my pants, and ANOTHER pile for my shirt....and it hits me. This messy apartment would be where my body would be found. I wouldn't care, but my sister would likely be the only person who would come deal with...well everything. Lord knows my parents wouldn't. Even if my roommate cleaned up these clothes, dishes, apartment... there was still banking to deal with, plus all the clothes and things in the apartment would have to go somewhere. Suddenly I realized that suicide may help me escape, but I would be dumping a ton of things on people around me. That would be incredibly unfair to them.

It took me a bit to compose myself and head off to work, but I started forming a better plan. I was going to get all of my affairs in order and get the banking and other personal account details to my sister "in case I got in a fatal car wreck or something". I also made myself a deal that I would have to clean out everything from my apartment (and my car which was also a disgusting mess) - just donate it or something. Lastly, all of my personal things that weren't donated would be boxed like a moving crew, all so that whoever had to deal with my death would have the least amount of things to deal with. That plan and promise to myself stopped me from ending my life many times in the following years. Oddly enough, I think getting things in order also helped pull me out of my depression every time.

Therapy also helped. I started drawing personal boundaries, mourning the loss of friendships and building better friendships with supportive people. I ended up graduating with a 3.1, ended up getting into a master's program, did some amazing environmental work and eventually earned a PhD (with a 4.0). But today, if you are truly struggling...take a look around. Ask yourself "Would it be fair" to drop your life on someone else to sort through? I know this won't help most folks, but if it helps one then it is worth sharing.