Truth is, it’s not why I stayed alive. It’s how.
And to be even more honest, I didn’t always want to.
I just didn’t want to hurt anymore.

That distinction matters.

September is National Suicide Prevention & Awareness Month. I’ve been triggered by recent losses of a beautiful 26-year-old former Miss Jamaica, a 9-year-old child, and a 15-year-old teenager and others - all to suicide. Each of them, gone too soon. Each, a silent echo of the same battle: pain that went unnoticed… or misunderstood. This post is for everyone who’s ever stood at that edge, and for those who love them.

And as I sit with the heaviness, I realize I’ve never fully told this part of my story.

I cannot take credit for being alive today.

This isn’t a story about strength or willpower or “choosing life.” This is about grace meeting desperation in the darkest valleys of my existence.

This is about how God kept me alive when I couldn’t - and wouldn’t - keep myself.

The Raw Truth: Three Attempts Weren’t the End

Three suicide attempts. Three times I tried to leave this world. Three times God said, “Not yet.” And it’s not lost on me that others didn’t make it, and sometimes I struggle with survivor’s remorse. I am also aware that many others have prayed and were believers of Christ who still succumbed to the pressures of the mind, and I am not special.

I attempted suicide three times in my life.

And even when I stopped trying overtly, I started trying subtly.

• I self-harmed.

• I stopped caring for myself.

• I silently hoped a sickle cell crisis or sepsis episode would take me out.

• I didn’t want the attention, I just wanted the pain to stop.

The feeling of invisibility, loneliness, and being overwhelmed made it hard to breathe on some days.

My mind rehearsed every lie

“You’re a burden.”

“You’re too much.”

“You’re broken beyond repair.”

“No one would miss you.”

The truth is, I wasn’t trying to die.

I was trying to escape what felt unbearable.

But here’s what I never told anyone: the three attempts weren’t the end of my death wish. They were just the beginning of a more subtle, more socially acceptable way to die.

When direct attempts failed, I learned to be more… creative.

I stopped taking care of myself during sickle cell crises, and intentionally did things I knew would exacerbate a crisis - secretly hoping this would be the one that finally took me out. I’d neglect my medication, ignore warning signs, and hoped silently that I wouldn’t survive the next sepsis episode.

If you’re doing this now, please reach out for help immediately.

It felt less tragic this way. More believable. If I died from my chronic illness, people would say, “She fought so hard. She lived past her predicted expiration date.” They’d never know I had stopped fighting at all.

I performed healing for validation while deliberately engaging in patterns I knew could kill me. I was too guilt-ridden to actively end my life, so I chose the passive route - unconscious self-harm disguised as “accidents.”

Living Beneath the Cloud

The feeling of loneliness was overwhelming. Not just being alone, but feeling invisible even in crowded rooms. Feeling like I didn’t matter to anyone, that the world would keep spinning just fine without me.

My mind worked overtime - a relentless prosecutor rehearsing all that was wrong with me. Every mistake. Every rejection. Every way I didn’t measure up.

I lived beneath a cloud of despondency that felt permanent. Like this gray, heavy blanket that followed me everywhere, whispering that this was just how life would always be.

I just wanted the pain to stop. I wanted to feel normal. To be loved. To feel like I mattered - really mattered - to someone.

The emotional kind of pain. The mental kind. The pain no one could see because I had learned to smile through it, to perform healing while dying inside.

When Death Kept Knocking

I had so many close calls to death that should have taken me:

- Doctors telling me there was nothing more they could do

- Surviving a stroke at 17

- A heart attack 2½ years ago that shouldn’t have been survivable

- Septicemia five different times

- Sickle cell crises that pushed my body beyond its limits

Each time, death knocked on my door, and something - Someone - kept answering and saying, “She’s not ready yet.”

There came a moment when I stopped asking, “Why am I still here?” and started asking, “What if I was being spared, to speak, to testify?”

I’ll never forget it.

God whispered, “Not yet - there is work to do. And so do the others who haven’t yet found the words to say: I want to live, but I don’t know how.”

I didn’t get up healed.

I got up held.

Held by God’s mercy.

Held by therapy.

Held by scriptures I wanted to believe again.

Held by the two little humans who call me “Mommy” and gave me a reason to keep showing up.

Only now, in hindsight, with God, His Word, therapy, and the grace to release my resentment toward Him, can I see the myriad ways God spared my life.

The Lifelines God Provided

The very birth of my sons was a miracle. The doctors said I shouldn’t have been able to carry them. My body was too damaged, too broken.

But God knew something I didn’t: He knew I needed something - someone - to give me hope to fight another day.

My boys became my saving grace. They gave me reasons to fight when I was on the brink of giving up and falling back into old patterns. Leaving them behind intentionally was a risk I was not willing to take.

Even when I fought through:

- A devastating court case

- Family abandonment

- Betrayal by people I trusted

- Rejection that cut to the bone

Even when everything around me was falling apart, those two little faces kept me tethered to this world.

The God Who Keeps

He’s been gracious and kind enough to keep me through it all.

Not because I was strong enough to survive.

Not because I had enough faith.

Not because I figured out the right formula.

But because His grace is sufficient. Because His love is relentless. Because His plans for my life were bigger than my pain.

Looking back, I can see His hand in every “coincidence”:

- The friend who called at exactly the right moment

- The song that played when I needed hope

- The scripture that found me when I was ready to give up

- The medical miracles that defied explanation

- The way He provided my sons as anchors to life

Why I’m Telling You This

With all of that, I am now compelled - even called - to share with others about His great love and faithfulness.

If you’re reading this and you recognize yourself in my story:

If you’re hoping your chronic illness will finish what you can’t

If you’re engaging in “subtle” self-harm that looks like neglect

If you’re performing healing while planning your exit

If you’re too tired to live but too guilty to die

I need you to know: You’re not alone. And your story isn’t over.

The thoughts in your head are lying to you. The pain feels permanent, but it’s not.

God has lifelines you can’t see yet. Reasons to stay that haven’t revealed themselves. Purpose that’s still unfolding.

How to Stay When You Don’t Want To

1. Reach out. Text 988. Call someone. Send a message that says, “I’m not okay.”

2. Take it one breath at a time. You don’t have to want to live forever. Just live for the next hour.

3. Look for your lifelines. Is there someone who needs you? A pet? A dream deferred? A calling you haven’t answered?

4. Get professional help. Therapy isn’t just for “crazy people.” It’s for people who are tired of suffering alone.

5. Consider medication. Sometimes our brain chemistry needs support. That’s not weakness - that’s wisdom.

6. Remember: Surviving isn’t about being strong. It’s about letting Love be stronger than pain.

A Word to Those Who Love Someone Struggling

Stop saying “just pray about it” and start showing up. Pray WITH them, not instead of helping them.

Don’t minimize their pain or shame them for struggling. Listen without trying to fix. Love without conditions.

If someone tells you they’re suicidal, take it seriously. Get professional help. Don’t try to handle it alone.

The Faith Factor… and What Religion Got Wrong

I know what some folks are already thinking.

“Just pray about it.”

“That’s a spirit of heaviness.”

“Suicide is selfish.”

But let me be clear

Suicide is not selfish.

It’s the language of deep, unrelieved pain.

It’s what happens when the weight becomes greater than the will.

Yes, I believe suicidal ideation can be spiritual warfare. But it’s also:

• Chemical imbalance.

• Hormonal shifts.

• Medication side effects.

• Emotional trauma.

• And yes, chronic physical pain like the kind I battle daily with sickle cell anemia.

When your body is constantly in pain and your mind is exhausted from pretending, even hope starts to whisper.

My Prayer for You

If you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts, I’m praying that:

- God reveals your purpose before your pain overwhelms you

- You find your lifelines before you let go

- Someone shows up in your darkness with light

- You stay long enough to see what God does next

Your story matters. Your life has value. Your pain is real, but so is the possibility of healing.

I stayed - not because I was strong enough, but because God was faithful enough.

And if He can keep me, He can keep you too.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, please reach out:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988

Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741

International Association for Suicide Prevention: https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/

You are not alone. Your story isn’t over. Stay and see what God does next.

From my heart to yours

Journey 2 Free