Hope in Survival

You come to me with scars on your wrists
You tell me this will be the last night feeling like this

A person dies by suicide every sixteen minutes in the united states. An attempt is estimated to be made once every minute. The statistics are sickening.

"I just came to say goodbye
Didn't want you to see me cry
I'm fine"

Why are they so high? Perhaps its our own passiveness. Because we drive people to the point of tears...and into hiding. Where they're so worried about disturbing our peace that they claim to be "fine" when they're about to end their lives.

But I know it's a lie

The beginning of truth.

This is the last night you'll spend alone
Look me in the eye so I know you know
I'm everywhere you want me to be
The last night you'll spend alone
I'll wrap you in my arms and I won't let go
I'm everything you need me to be

Maybe, this is what it takes. For us to see the tears, even when they turn their faces away. For us to see the anguish dwelling in the words, "I'm fine." For us to remind them that they are not alone. For us to be there.

September 5th-11th is National Suicide Prevention Week. Suicide. The taking of one's own life. The ultimate degree of desperation. And sadly, the third leading cause of death for 18-24 year olds. Every sixteen minutes, we mourn the loss of another American. Another person who reached the point of pain at which the only thing left to do to end it was to end their life. And then they're gone. There's no turning back. There's no undoing it. Suicide is permanent. And it is so, so sad.

I remember looking up the statistics one time. I needed them for a speech. And when I found them and started reading through them, I realized that beforehand, my speech had nothing--because I had no idea of the detriment caused. As I scrolled down that list and realized that, by the time I reached the bottom, someone had most likely committed suicide, I felt my stomach sink. Reading the numbers. Reading the stories. Seeing the hopelessness. Hearing about it attacking those I know. Knowing 34,000 people die from it every. Single. Year. It breaks my heart.

For a while now, I have supported the organization To Write Love on Her Arms, or TWLOHA. "To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery."

The idea is to raise awareness. But to go farther than that. To become the help ourselves. To care for the broken people. To give them hope. To show them love. To give them life. To end apathy--in everyone. We can sit around complaining and being upset about suicide all we want. But what good will it do in the long-run? Not much. The idea is to take action. Because when we get up and move; when we stand up and talk; when we open our mouths and arms and actually do something, we are more powerful than suicide can imagine.

Hope in survival isn't something I can tell you all on my own. It's something that we all must spread. It is something that we cannot just say, but need to show. To express to the hurting people around us. It is our job to see past their smiles and see the tears drowning their eyes. To wrap them in our arms and not let go. To be everything they need us to be. To write love on her arms. His arms. Our arms.

This isn't something we can just ignore. 34,000 people fall victim to this terrible epidemic every year. We can not in good conscience simply pass by the heart-wrenching numbers. We must do everything we can to push them down. To be the arms. To be the hope. To be the love.

While I've been writing this post, over thirty people have attempted suicide. Approximately two have succeeded. It could have been anyone. It could have been someone very dear to me. It could have been someone very close to you. Please. Help me stop it before that idea becomes a reality. Before another person falls into distress. Before another family or friend has to deal with a painful, guilt-ridden loss.

Redemption exists. Let's listen to their stories. Let's dry their tears. Let's hold them so tight, they won't let go. Let's remind them that they are worth it. Let's show them that there is hope in survival.

And if you're one of "them"...your story has just begun. You are a person, and I love you. And I know that you're worth every second. I know that you're worth life. I know that you're worth dying for. Never forget how important you are.

Never forget those that have fallen to suicide. Never forget that if we stand together and make a difference, we can save lives.

"The vision is the possibility that your best days are ahead.

The vision is the possibility that we're more loved than we'll ever know.

The vision is hope, and hope is real.

You are not alone, and this is not the end of your story."

I'm here.



http://www.twloha.com/index.php
[Song--"The Last Night" by Skillet"]