I've had a good week. More energy than usual. Exercising has become a little easier. Motivation has been better. Then it hits like a brick. Reminding me that it's never over. Heavy chest. Pounding heart. Tight jaw.
...
Tonight my heart is full. Such a contradiction from this morning.

I'm working on my thoughts.
Stopping the bad ones and letting the good ones free flow.
The bad ones are deeply ingrained. Stitched into my skin with needles filled with permanent ink.

I received a 'thank you' note. Encouraging me to keep going. Telling me that my words matter.

If I can't let the bad thoughts go. Maybe I have to let the good thoughts of others seep in.
I will change the very makeup of my inner being with new blood rushing through my veins.

I will ever be thankful for those words.

I have never thought about suicide. Other than when other people bring it up. For example my doctor or psychologist when they ask, "Have you ever thought about suicide or harming yourself?" Without hesitation the answer is always "No."

Is there a difference, though, in not wanting to exist?

I don't even like uttering the word, but it is a reality for so many people. They hurt so bad, they would do anything to end it. All. They leave behind the people who love them, who cannot forgive themselves for not doing more. For not knowing how to help. The reality is they did do all they could. The disease took over. They should not blame themselves.

In some cases the only thing friends and family can do is be there. To be in the same room and not say a word is sometimes enough. You may not think you are making an impact, but you are. (I can only speak for myself here).   

Often times it's not that the person wants to die. It's that they want to escape the agony in their life. And unfortunately this is the only way they know how.