I drafted this article in January of last year, but before I was able to publish it, my computer crashed. It’s the only article I was able to email to myself before I lost everything else. In light of the recent tragic news about former Miss USA, Cheslie Kryst, I feel that now is the right time to publish.

In order to give proper context, I’ve decided to share my story from the beginning. Know that this may be triggering:

My battle with suicidal ideation and preoccupation with death began when I was around 14.  

At that time, I was filled with untreated grief and trauma after witnessing my grandmother pass away suddenly. And I was incredibly lonely and had dangerously low self-esteem.

To be completely honest, I felt that nobody around me truly understood me or cared about me. I felt trapped in my body and trapped in a world I didn’t want to exist in.

In those early teenage years, I developed a strong belief that I wasn’t going to live a long life because my internal turmoil was excruciating and I had to keep much of it to myself.

I was ok with dying very young.

 

I almost did and I was fine with it:

When I was a freshman in high school, one of my teachers selected another student and myself to participate in the Black Americans of Achievement board game competition for high school students held at Disney World.  

My teacher, Ms. Mills, picked my partner and I up that morning and we headed out to Orlando.

But on the way, a driver in the middle lane next to us on I-4 wasn’t paying attention and began to move into the left lane where we were.  

Ms. Mills panicked and we ended up veering off the road and into the grassy median at around 75-80mph.

When the car stopped gliding out of control, we were on the opposite side of the highway facing oncoming traffic.

Looking back, I was truly ready to die.

I don’t remember screaming.  

I don’t remember panicking.  

I vividly remember closing my eyes and saying in my head, God, I’m ready.

But when I opened my eyes, there was a huge gap in traffic.  The nearest cars seemed to be at least 75 yards away from us.

I was almost disappointed.

But Ms. Mills turned to us and said,  “That wasn’t nothing but the devil.  That was the enemy trying to stop us from going to Orlando.  He knows we’re gonna win this competition!”  

The competition was held in a ballroom and over 100 students participated from across the state, so I didn’t take Ms. Mills’ words very seriously.

But guess what?

We DID win the whole competition! 

We each received a heavy golden Mickey Mouse trophy and four passes to visit any Disney theme park for an entire year. 

My high soon came down though.  

For much of high school and into college, I was an extremely depressed person.

I would try my best to smile and laugh, but it was a front.

Suicidal ideations became more and more frequent after I graduated from college and everything went completely out of control after my first year of grad school in 2009.

In that year, I suffered major trauma, went to the ICU for pneumonia, and spent a week in the mental ward after suffering a severe panic episode and mental breakdown. 

I suffered from debilitating agoraphobia and panic for several years after that.  

It was beyond difficult, and I contemplated suicide often, but never actually formulated plans.  I managed to keep a small amount of hope even though my life had become harder than I ever fathomed it could be. 

But Unfortunately, there did come a day when I decided to throw in the towel for good.  

At that point, about 9 years had passed since the initial trauma and hospitalizations.  I was on the eve of my 31st birthday and I was still battling chronic insomnia (having to be sedated to fall asleep each night).

I was lonelier than ever.

I was struggling with body aches and pains associated with depression.

I was struggling with persistent intrusive thoughts that made me want to scream and bang my head up against the wall. 

It was painful to go to work every day only to feel judged and misunderstood.  

I felt like my youth had passed me by.  

I felt socially disconnected and incapable of maintaining successful relationships. I was about to be 31 and I’d never had a serious romantic relationship.

I felt light years away from normalcy and happiness.  

I seriously lost all hope for the future, and I was tired of struggling and feeling hurt and misunderstood in life.  

I couldn’t envision a future without serious pain and failure.

The night before my 31st birthday, the “reality” set in that time would move forward, but I would always be tortured.

I believed my life was always going to be extremely difficult and painful.  

I ruminated on everything that night; guilt, shame, remorse, humiliation, failure, isolation, loneliness, loss,  betrayal, hurt, heartbrokenness, low self-esteem, mental fatigue, physical pain, trauma, being hospitalized, panic attacks, intense anger, a sense that life wasn’t fair and that I was cursed.

I had sunken to a place far beyond depression. I was just moribund.

When I woke up, eyes swollen on my 31st birthday, I made the decision that it was going to be my last day.  

I told myself, Alexia stop doing this. Just go…

I planned to take all the pills I could find that night so I wouldn’t have to wake up again. I heard of a young lady dying in the area by overdosing on the prescription I was taking, so I knew it would work in combination with a bunch of other pills.

It was the FIRST time in my entire life I had made a real, solid plan to end my life.

And I was firm in my decision. 

I didn’t think to myself, I need to go to the ER.  I didn’t think, I need to reach out to a friend because I feel on the edge of hurting myself and I need somebody to stop me. 

The only thought in my mind was It’s time for me to end this. 

And that was that. 

I’d reached my limit. 

I was fed up. 

I had given up. 

I was done. 

At no point driving to work that day did I say to myself, “Alexia, you shouldn’t commit suicide.” 

My mind was made up, and I drove in silence for most of the ride.  

But as I got closer to the parking garage, I decided to turn on the radio for some white noise.  

My radio was set to NPR, so I figured I’d just be listening to a couple of monotone people talking to each other.

As soon as I turned on the radio, it felt like somebody reached inside my head and turned every thought I was thinking in that moment upside down. My eyes widened with shock and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck.

Why?

Because the morning broadcast was a case study on suicide. 

I didn’t tell a soul that I was planning to commit suicide, but I had this strong, indescribable feeling that somebody or something knew. 

I must’ve listened to over a hundred NPR morning shows that year and never once did I hear them air a story on suicide.  It wasn’t even suicide prevention month or week.  

If they had aired a story on any other topic, I would’ve tuned out.

But for this story, I was all ears.

The story was about a young woman who, like Cheslie Kryst, appeared content and happy. But one day the pain became too unbearable, and she jumped from the top of a building.

She couldn’t take it anymore.  

Nobody saw her death coming. Nobody knew the depths of her pain because she concealed it just like I had concealed mine. 

The timing of that broadcast seemed like more than just a coincidence.

In my gut, I knew it was a Divine Intervention.

I felt like God was telling me it wasn’t my time to go and that He had a bright future for me despite everything I’d been through.

I felt Him saying, “Alexia, I know all the things you’ve been through. I know people around you don’t understand and life has been extremely difficult for you, but I care about you. Keep living and you will see the light of my promises.”

And then I thought about how devastated my family and friends would be, how my death would be a significant trauma that they would have to endure for the rest of their lives. 

Just like when I was 14 and thought I was going to die in a car wreck on the way to Disney World, God turned my day of death into a miracle.  

He gave me the miracle of hope.

That was almost 5 years ago, and I haven’t entertained suicidal thoughts since.  

I’m looking forward to an extremely long and fulfilling life.  

If you ever come to a point in your life where you feel you’re at your last rope, please find the strength to reach out for help. Please reach out to a suicide hotline (I’ve included several resources on this site) or go to the ER.  

Get yourself a healthy support network, and get into intensive therapy so that you can get the tools you need to live a healthy, happy  life.  KNOW that you are here for a reason, that you have a purpose, and that God loves you.

When I was at my lowest,  I was beyond the point of human help.  I didn’t think there was anything another human being could’ve possibly said to me that would’ve changed my mind about ending my life.

 But God’s ability to help in a time of need supersedes what people are capable of. He knows what you need. He knows how to help. And He will.

I believe that when we give God a chance, He’ll make a way for us to experience health and happiness beyond what we’re able to fathom.  

God is with all of us and He knows how we each feel.  

Never give up.  

Be blessed,

Alexia