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Writer's pictureRikki Turner

Lived Experience: It was more that I didn't feel anything, except the fear...

Updated: Dec 12, 2023

I wasn't really sad anymore, not by the time it reached that point. It was more that I didn't feel anything, except the fear that I would never be happy again. There was nothing that brought me joy, nothing that even managed to hold more than a passing interest for me. I didn't want to get out of bed except to stop that feeling of emptiness. It wasn't so much that I was sad. I felt completely alone, as if nobody knew or cared what I was going through, and that even if I ended it all, nobody would even notice. It wasn't the first time I've felt this way, so I knew I needed to get help. But my attempt at help was what really pushed me towards trying.


I reached out to a suicide hotline and worked through a plan to get me through the night, so that I could have a telehealth appointment with a therapist in the morning. But the therapist never showed. I thought that if even a professional didn't care about helping me, why would anyone.





My last planned act before going through with my plan was to call my ex-wife and apologize to her for everything I'd done to her and our kids. Even though we had been fighting in every conversation for the better part of a year, she dropped everything to come for me. Without judgment or accusation she picked me up and took me to a mental health hospital. She helped me with admission and supported me while I was going through treatment.


Since then, with some exceptions, she has been a constant source of contact for me, so that even when I don't feel happy, I don't feel completely alone. I still have bad days, sometimes even bad weeks. There are times where I struggle with the feeling that I'm always going to be alone and will never have anyone care about me again. It's hard. I don't think it ever goes away entirely. The only thing I can do, the only thing I think anyone can do, is keep getting help. I take my medicine, I keep my appointments with my therapist, and I keep a journal. The darkness creeps back in if I let it, but I try to hold onto hope that someday I'll be able to stand on my own and maybe even find someone that can accept that emptiness inside of me.




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