She only knew one way. For her there was only one escape from all that troubled her. It gave her instant relief, but it never lasted. So she took more, and more, and more. The beauty of the blackouts was that she didn’t have to feel. She didn’t have to worry. She didn’t have to think.
And so it went for a time. A day would become a week, and the weeks turned into months. Dulled to the world, her family and friends faded from her routine. Work became an inconvenience. She could barely force herself to leave the house.
She knew she had to stop but didn’t know how. If she controlled it, she couldn’t enjoy it. If she enjoyed it, she lost all control. If she managed to go without, how could she possibly stay stopped?
It seemed impossible.
She locked the doors and drew the blinds. Determined to conquer her sickness, but the feelings and thoughts returned. The chaos in her head grew louder. Damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t.
For her, life would never be different. Nothing would ever change. In a moment of despair, with no solution, she took her own life.
No one had ever told her, there is a solution.
No one had ever told her, we can recover.
No one had ever told her, there was hope.
Carry this message…