The decision not to choose

Okay so I had a wonderful talk with my sponsor today and I had something I needed to share about why I chose to live.

I stood on a bridge overlooking the Dallas interstate in 2013 and I was contemplating doing it then. I had several plans to do it. I found it would adapt depending on my circumstances. It wouldn’t stop. It was the only place I felt I had control. But I was living in a place I hated, with someone I barely knew even if they were family, and I just couldn’t function.

I chose not to for several reasons:

1. Friends and my lover. Then they left and buried me as if I was already dead. So they lost meaning of love and turned to spite. Now it’s whatever.

2. Family. This never changed. This is where guilt was effective. I did not want to put my family through the pain of loosing me. I knew the pain I felt of loosing those who had killed themselves.

3. Fear of if I failed, I didn’t want to survive, and there were lots of ways they would fail and I could wind up permanently handicapped.

4. Fear of hell. Or becoming a spirit that haunted that place for the rest of my life.

5. Hope. I knew life isn’t all that bad all the time. I had experienced it.

6. Going to France. Penland. Arrowmont. I had seen the Vatican. I had walked places known for their holiness. I had been blessed by God before. So I knew/know that it could be better.

7. Myself. I chose to live for me. Fuck everyone else who is not apart of progress.

8. God. Buddhism. Compassion. Love. Passion. Excitement. Sounds. Smells. Touch.

9. Music.

10. The new people I have in my life. I will not break my promise.

11. Fuck the rapist and fuck the haters. If I die they win.

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