Helping Others Helps Me

Everyone has probably figured out that writing is my biggest coping skill for the emotional and physical pain that I deal with daily. Another one is to help out someone else. Tonight this led to an event that I could have never planned for…


I spoke at length a few weeks ago with a young girl who was desperate. She and I are a lot alike. She is just like me when I was her age. She was wanting to harm herself, either by cutting, using drugs, or ending her life. I know this feeling well. I talked to her for a long time and she was amazed that someone could possibly understand what she was going through. She thought she was alone. I told her that she would never be alone because she had made an imprint on my heart. She left and did not hurt herself. She says I helped her.


Tonight, as I write this, has been my hardest night in a very long time. I know I speak often of asking for help, and if you don’t get help, ask until you do. But I have not listened to my own advice lately. I let it get bad. I have had major physical difficulties lately that are reaching the point that I can’t handle it. These are making my anxiety and depression hit a peak. In return, my foul mood is making my pain literally worse. The last straw was coming down with the flu today, thereby making me all that much more miserable. I know, it got dramatic.


The same young girl that I helped? Tonight she was the one that saved my life. How’s that for a happy ending?



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