Trigger warning: mention of suicidal thoughts.
I wanted to kill myself when I was 20. I was the only one who knew this and what I did was hang the lyrics to Billy Joel’s River of Dreams above my bed and I’d read it every night until I didn’t feel like I wanted to die anymore.
Why was I in such a dark place? Because I let other peoples opinions matter more than the facts. I let other people decide how happy I was going to be. And I depended on approval from others to make my life feel important.
Now at 41 I lie in bed looking at the ceiling and instead of lamenting I am thankful I have people who love me for my brain and my heart, a great family who may have no idea or care what I do with my life but love me anyway; and the only approval I need is knowing in my heart I have lived today to the best of my abilities and made a difference in whatever little way I can.
I’m the happiest man in the world. And if my dark days and revealing them this way save even one life tonight or one person from giving up, I am even happier.
