I Was Almost a Period

This evening I have no clever story or meaningful memory with which to begin my post. In fact, this evening I find it to be an almost insurmountable task to even write at all. And yet I feel driven and compelled to write ... tonight I feel destined to share the words that are screaming to be loosed from my heart and aching to be freed from my mind. Tonight I have no choice but to write ... difficult though it may be ... tonight I have no choice but to let you see what I saw ... to let you hear what I heard ... to let you feel what I felt as I sat among a group of 14 parents whose greatest desire in life is to see their children live.

It was one of the fathers from the group of parents who contacted me almost four weeks ago after someone sent him the link to our video "Ears Wide Open?" and information about my blog. As I sat on my couch reading his initial email, I was overcome with what my mom would have deemed a true "gully washer cryin' fit." You know the kind of crying I'm talking about ... the kind that has you struggling to breathe while your tears are pouring like rain and you're wiping your nose with the back of your hand to keep your snot from dripping on the floor. I'm not sure I even made it to the end of the gentleman's first sentence before the tears came ... tears that come to me so frequently now as I learn of the pain and desperation another person is experiencing. 

What began as one email from a father whose teenage child has attempted suicide twice in the last six months ended with me sitting in a room with seven sets of emotionally drained and unspeakably frightened parents of LGBT teens who have attempted suicide within the previous six to eight months. I have never felt so humbled as I did as I listened to the stories told by those precious parents ... stories that all had the same ending ... parents who love their children and want nothing more than to see them live. That's all ... parents who just want to see their children choose life rather than death. I sat among those mothers and fathers and wished with all my might that I could promise them their kids would someday be okay ... but I couldn't. The truth is that according to statistics, LGBT teenagers are four times more likely to commit suicide than heterosexual teens ... read that again ... lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender kids are four times more likely to commit suicide than straight kids. 

I'm quite certain it's not a coincidence that my meeting with the 14 parents took place within days of me receiving multiple emails asking me if I knew about Project Semicolon ... if you haven't heard of it, you should check it out and you should read the story of the young gal who started it. People from all over the country are getting tattoos of a semicolon on their bodies ... the semicolon tattoo has become a symbol for raising awareness about mental illness, depression and suicide. I love these words on the Project Semicolon website ... "A semicolon is used when an author could've chosen to end their sentence but chose not to. The author is you and the sentence is your life." As my meeting with the parents drew to a close, one of the mothers noticed my Hebrew tattoo peeking out from below my rolled-up shirt sleeve and asked if I had heard about the semicolon tattoo movement. I said I had and then watched in amazement as all 14 of those parents turned their hands over ... every single parent in that room had a tattoo of a semicolon on their palms ... every single parent had a semicolon tattoo on their palms ... every single parent.

Perhaps it's because I've been reading about the semicolon tattoo project a lot over the last week or so that's caused me to think so much lately about that day a little more than three years ago when I sat at my kitchen table ready to end my life. I was almost a period rather than a semicolon ... I came within minutes of being a period ... I came within minutes of choosing to end the sentence of my life with the period of a drug overdose. 

I was almost a period ... I was so very, very close to being a period instead of a semicolon. Please, please, please help the people around you who are hurting to find their semicolon, friends ... don't let them become a period ... pay attention to them, listen to them, love them unconditionally and help them be a semicolon.