Start Again


"I have no purpose.
I have no reason to live."
These were the last words I spoke.
It was just over nine years ago.
I believed in those words.
I believed there was no point to my existence.
I took a lot of pills.
I drank a lot of liquor.
The perfect death insurance policy.

That was then. This is now. Things have changed. When I took my own life, this was how I felt. No matter how I searched and dug through memories and experiences, I could find no reason to continue my life. Reasons were there, but I could not find them. I could only find the bitter disappointments that had thrust me into depression. Images flashed through my mind. Not being "good enough" for the woman I truly loved. Having been engaged twice and having both fiances leave me for another man. Dropping out of three different colleges because I just couldn't figure out what I wanted to do with this higher education business. Facing complete financial disaster and being unable to pay any of my bills. A series of dead end jobs and unfulfilled promises made by employers. Being used by people I considered to be friends so they could get revenge on others. Feeling alone and unworthy of anyone's attentions. Being cursed by constant headaches and fits of anger and rage.

I saw no purpose in continuing.

Once you stop believing in yourself, everything stops. Everything goes into a whirlwind. There is nothing to hold onto, especially when others turn you away. You look for validation. At first you expect it to be given by others. Then you simply hope it will be given. Then you accept that it will never come.

I was given purpose.
I was given purpose because I claimed to have none.
When I walked on the other side I was told as much.
If I knew I had purpose, would I have killed myself?
No. I would have gone on.
And so, I received purpose and returned.

My thoughts now move like a spider's web. Every action causes ripples that cross into the orbits of many different people. For some time I was concerned that my story would actually encourage suicide. After all, could not the desperate and lonely soul take the same road that I did and find himself as well? Not likely. Suicides don't come back. My existence is far outside the norm.

The temple is within. If you make a desert of your soul and drain it of everything that is good and wonderous, then you will carry this with you. I have seen what awaits those who dry themselves and extract all love and caring from their souls. It is a very empty place. There are no rewards for one who crawls inside their own temple for shelter and then destroys themself within the temple. There is a chance to rebuild, but it is a long and difficult road.

Step outside the pain, the hurt and the sense of failure and move forward. This road is seldom obvious, but it is there. Sometimes it will require all of your strength and energy, but you have within you all that is required to make the move. Some become addicted to their pain. It is like a tattered blanket that keeps them warm, for it is so familiar. They hate the blanket, but they return to it each night for the comforts of familiarity.

A sense of purpose.

Somewhere not too far from where you are, someone is thinking about suicide. Maybe it is even you. Maybe things are looking real terrible right around now and nothing seems to be going your way. Maybe you are grappling with issues you can't get a grip on and feel like everything is slipping away.


The signs of change are not obvious unless you are looking for them. Whether change is happening or change has become necessary, there are always signs. If you can't get out of first gear, a complete transmission overhaul may be necessary. Alternatively, you may decide to sit there in first gear and complain or cry about it, but unless you facilitate the change, the problems will remain.

I hate my job.
I hate my life.
I hate where I am.
I hate what I am doing.

They cry out in the darkness. You listen to the cry and you wonder how this person could have allowed themselves to fall so deep into a hole of depression and helplessness. You listen and you watch. If you pay careful attention you may notice something about them. They have accepted these hated things in their life by not rejecting them and not seeking a new path. Their complaining has become the comfortable tattered blanket. Regardless of what they may say, they are not willing to let go of the blanket. Without these complaints to voice they may lose their identity. The problems have become their identity.

Losing your last marble.

Sometimes pain can consume you. It feels much bigger than your ability to fight it, so we let it win. I'm no stranger to that emotion. I once let the pain win completely and threw away my last marble. I was given another opportunity. I was given a fresh bag of marbles and put back on the playing field. The pain was no longer able to rule over me. Depression was something I could no longer dive into. Doing so made no sense to me any longer. It was no longer an emotion I was comfortable with, and yet it had been for so long. I just never realized how accustomed I had become to depression.

And yet these were very unusual circumstances. It isn't easy to get a fresh bag of marbles and you can't always go back to the starting line. Sometimes, though, you have to realize what you need to do in order to move forward. No matter how difficult that might be, it is imperative. If you are drowning, you must either learn how to swim, find the shore, or call out for help. Otherwise you will drown.


For Anastasia, when she finds us.

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