On July 25th, 2010, it might have been six or seven in the morning when my mother woke me up to tell me my grandfather had passed away. He was the third death I had experienced within a span of a few months. Only five months before in February my great grandmother had passed away. In December, three days after Christmas the drummer of my favorite band suddenly passed away at the age of 28. Two loved ones and a beloved idol. Death within the family sparked outrage and family war. People I had not spoken to in years took away our moment to mourn and process to attack us. My great grandmother and my grandfather’s funeral was basically a war zone. I’m still angry I wasn’t able to grieve properly because I immediately had to go into fighting mode. The grief and issues I had dealt with of severe bullying and childhood abuse boiled to the surface. I really didn’t know what mental illness was and couldn’t cope that I had succumbed to depression. A depression that swallowed me up and was slowly killing me. I was suffering in silence.

When my grandfather passed away, that was about the last thing I could handle and soon fell apart. For seven days I hovered between life and death. Contemplating suicide feeling more alone. If I did decide to go I thought I would go unnoticed. Believing I was insignificant and unwanted as people had told me my whole life. On August 1st was the day before the funeral. I didn’t know how much longer I had. On my way to my aunt’s house something I’ve done all my life the most unexpected thing happened. I had a vision of a woman, her entire life flashing before my eyes. That became the foundation for the book I would soon begin to write that saved my life. The book made sense of what happened and gave me my second chance. 7 years ago I got damn lucky that I found a way out


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