Laying on the floor underneath my desk, I sobbed until the breath no longer came. I could not think past the darkness in my mind, staring at the blade in my fist, unsure of whether or not I wished for the courage to use it or put it back down. I screamed for help in my mind, deep within the depths of despair, wondering if anyone would miss me when I was gone...

Yet here I stand, battered and somewhat bruised, but relatively whole from the battle with myself. For years the only tool I had to deal with the pain within me was self-injury; for years it was the only thing that I could use to escape myself. A sob story involving an abusive ex was my reason for no longer wanting to live - he wasn't in my life, and it was all my fault.

Even as I lay there, feeling like a pathetic person that did not deserve life's breath, I recalled something that I had always shrugged off, words my mother echoed over and over again: "The sun will always come up again tomorrow." A new day, a new chance to be a better person, a stronger person. The sun came up the next day, and the next, as I struggled to walk away from the abusive relationship, as I tried to find my own way through the darkness, only the promise of light glittering out from the depths keeping me going.

It's a long hard road, and I still falter, now and again. Fear and despair wash over me so easily, but that little glimmer of light, that small shard of hope that I clutch so tightly to me keeps me walking forward, instead of leaving myself withering, alone, dying underneath a cold wooden desk.

Learn more about this author, Kristi Buckel.
Click here to send author comments or questions.

---

Add your voice

Know something about My second chance at life: True stories about facing death?
We want to hear your view. Write now!