Eight years ago, I was given another chance at life; it wasn’t the first additional chance I’d been given, nor would it be the last, but it’s the one that sticks with me the most.
Suicide and suicidal ideation have been a part of my life for the last 15 years; I can’t really remember a time when it wasn’t something on my mind.
But since 2013, every year in early September, I think about it differently. It’s not even that I consciously have it top of mind — I often forget the exact anniversary and don’t think of it much, but my body remembers.
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