walking disaster

I might be melodramatic …

… but hopefully this will reach out to people who find themselves in a similar mental situation

Reasons to live:

I know for sure that God put me on this planet for a reason, and that he has a plan for me.
There is always a tomorrow. I just have to look for the light switch.
I feel like I’ve been making too much progress to give it all up now
I have to set an example for my sister, and I want to see her succeed in life
Over the past couple of months I have learned that there are actually people out there who care
Funerals are very expensive, and I don’t want to be an economical burden for my family
It would be unfair to the people who are really suffering and would do anything to switch lives with me
I’m so lucky to have the best friends ever, and their support has been overwhelming, really
I want to see everyone I miss again.

Reasons not to:

All this regardless, I still feel worthless, and I still feel like I’m bothering everyone
I’m still weak and I still want to harm myself, something I’m really ashamed of (but I haven’t, not in 4 months! :D)
No matter what anyone says I will always feel like I’m not good enough.
I doubt I’ll ever find someone who wants to spend the rest of their life with me because I’m too fat, ugly and weird. (note: I’m not writing this to make myself look like an attention whore, this is how I honestly view myself)
I feel misunderstood.
Most of the time I don’t even know what’s wrong with me, what’s really bothering me and why I’m sad, and I’m sick of that. It makes me feel claustrophobic, and I just want to get out.

But, you know, let the bright side overcome the darkness! Even though I’m not 100% okay yet, I’m not where I used to be, and while writing this I realized once again that I have more reasons to live than I have to get carried away in a coffin.

Julie

Two years ago today I was walking home from school with a big smile on my face. It was sunny, I had made someone laugh, participated in successful conversations with my crush and for once I thought I was having a good day. That was until my cousin, who was six at the time, ran towards me and said; “Malin, the baby in my mom’s tummy is dead!”

My grandparents, parents, sister, uncle’s parents and sisters, neighbours were all gathered around my aunt, who was sitting in a chair, staring into nothing and with an 8 months old corpse floating around somewhere inside her.

They were supposed to name her Julie, but instead of driving home from the hospital with the back seat full of diapers and roses, they had to pick out the smallest coffin they could possibly find. They said they had given up all hope, and my cousin tried her best to comfort her own parents, telling them that it was okay, because at least they had her, right?

I don’t know what made them change their mind, but one year and a handful of days later, I was sitting in my aunt and uncle’s couch again, with my beautiful little cousin Helena in my arms.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, and even though what happened that september night two years ago was absolutely devastating, I think there was a meaning behind it. I really wish I could’ve seen little Julie open her eyes, but then Helena would never get the chance to open hers. Maybe Julie just wasn’t ready to see the light of day yet.

As awful as it sounds, I believe that after every tragedy there is a spark of light, and something good that comes out of it. In this case my cousin Helena, who just celebrated her first birthday, not even a year after what was supposed to be her sister’s second.