I was probably 14 when I tried to hang myself in my parents garage. I was struggling with severe depression, had undiagnosed ADHD, and grew up in a household where verbal and physical abuse where a daily thing.

My suicide attempt failed. I’ve never been great at tying knots and I couldn’t get the rope to hold my weight. I felt like more of a failure than ever. I couldn’t even kill myself successfully.

Twenty years later, I’m thankful that I failed. I’m sitting here on a quiet Sunday morning, drinking coffee and watching my son smile at me and play with his baby toys. He’s a bright spot in my life. All three of my kids are.

Life is fucking hard. There’s no sugar coating that. It’s harder for some people than others. But it can also be good. I’ve had to put up with a lot of the hard stuff, but I’ve also gotten to experience a lot of the good stuff. Way more than I ever imagined I would. I’ve also learned that I can do this and that I’m not alone. You can do this too and you’re not alone either.