Four Attempts. One Purpose

Trigger Warning: Mental Health & Suicide

You ever feel like something’s been off with you your whole life, but no one really saw it?
They just said you were “shy, moody, too sensitive, mean?”
But inside, it was always louder than that.
This is the story behind the smile. The parts I used to hide.

Before you read this, take a breath

In 2019, after a failed suicide attempt, I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), PTSD, and anxiety.
It was my fourth time attempting and by the grace of God, it was my last.
I can still trace it all the way back..
The first time was in middle school.
The last time was right after I dropped out of college my junior year well, flunked out if we’re being real.
I remember not being able to sleep without medication. I’d stay up for days, numb and exhausted.

Depression isn’t black and white it lives in the gray.

It isn’t always staying in bed all day or crying in the dark. Sometimes, it’s actually smiling. And when I hit that breaking point, it wasn’t that I wanted to die I just wanted the pain to stop.
I remember it like it was yesterday.
I wrote letters to my siblings, my grandmother, and the person I was dating at the time.
I drove to a neighborhood called Town Lakes near Barker Cypress, turned off my phone, took a number of pills, and laid in the back seat. Crying. Numb. Done.
And then… I woke up in my bed.
That place was 30 minutes away. I know what I did.
But how did I get home?
How was I alive?
Why didn’t it work?
I’ve told this story before not with answers, but with gratitude.
That was the moment I knew. God wasn’t done with me.
I told my aunt. She got me help. I was hospitalized, placed on suicide watch, and entered a healing program with therapy and medication.
That was my turning point.
Four attempts. Four times I was saved. Four.
To be clear, I never truly wanted to die. Most people don’t.
We just want the sadness, the noise, the heaviness to stop.
It crossed my mind again in 2022 , I’ll be honest.
But that time, I told someone. I asked for help before I acted. That was growth.
Still, I have episodes. I still dissociate.
I still fight every day to stay present to stay here.

I never said I was healed. I’m not.
I’m writing this right after speaking with my therapist. I recently restarted my meds because I felt myself spiraling again.
Yep… I’m going through it right now.

Let me try to paint you a picture:
— Imagine you’re laughing with your friends, and then your mood crashes from 10 to 0. No warning. You go silent. You look like someone just told you devastating news. But no one did.
— Imagine walking into a room full of people, and your mind shuts off. You freeze. You shake. You look angry but really, you’re just stuck.
— Imagine canceling plans you were genuinely excited for… because you’re scared.
— Imagine looking in the mirror and feeling like a stranger.
— Imagine having a clean house, but a cluttered mind.
— Imagine isolating so deeply that the only time you leave the house is to walk your dogs.
— Imagine crying so hard and having no idea why.
— Feeling numb around people you love.
— Losing interest in things that once made you feel alive.
— Staying silent because explaining your sadness feels impossible.
— Showing up for everyone while hiding the fact that you need someone to show up for you.
— Having the best day of your life, and waking up the next day feeling like life is over.
— Always feeling guilty. Always feeling worthless.
— And the mood swings? Uncontrollable.
It’s like being stuck in a body that doesn’t move, with a mind that won’t shut off and a voice that won’t shut up.
You’re alive, but you’re not really living.
You’re mourning the version of yourself that felt like you.
I went through an episode that lasted almost two years.
And honestly? I still haven’t fully come out of it.
I look at old pictures and videos, and I grieve the woman I was before I got lost in that space.
I’m not her anymore. I don’t know her anymore. I don’t know me anymore. And that hurts.

Now let me tell you something I’ve never said out loud:
Being diagnosed with cancer…
That was the first time I actually wanted to die.
The pain. The sickness. The loneliness. The anger.
The hopelessness. The agony. The silence.
I didn’t want to attempt chemo. I was done.
But my family fought for me.
YOU fought for me.
And I can’t explain how much your DMs, messages, calls, pop-ups meant to me.
They reminded me I still had purpose. That I wasn’t forgotten.
And that is why I’m here today.
What helped me survive that season?
Journaling. Praying. Crying. And trying again.

I’m not the same woman I was in 2019.
I’m not even the same woman I was last year.
But I’m here.
Still unfolding.
And honestly? That’s enough.
People call me strong and I receive that now.
Because I’ve been through hell, and I kept choosing life.
Not because it was easy… but because something in me knew I still had more to give, more to learn, more to live for.
So if you’re reading this and you feel stuck, sad, overwhelmed, or numb…
You are not alone.
You are not broken.
You are not weak.
You are still here.
And that means everything.
If you’re in the dark right now, I see you. I’ve been there.
And I promise
It will get better.
-K🤍

If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone.
Call or text 988 for the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline it’s free, 24/7, and confidential.

Song I hear: Closer x Goapele