It felt like waking up from an unplanned nap--confusing, unsure of the day or time, yet I remember the moment with total clarity. My eyelids lifted, revealing the emergency room privacy curtain on either side but open towards the front of the makeshift cloth room. The stabbing pain with my first coherent breath and seeing the look on my mom’s face as she hastily turned into the open fabric to see me laying in that bed, I knew I was alive. The immediate sense of disappointment I felt was alarming, even to me. I didn’t set out to kill myself that day. I was sixteen and had no self respect. I didn’t care what happened to my body--reckless, and without self love, I was seeking approval from ...
