I don't know where I got this or what the context was. I just found it written on sticky note in my last journal. The quotation makes me think of the movie Castaway, which I should probably see again.
Suicide attempts and mental illness bloom poison in my family. I've had to learn that I can't keep someone else alive. Nobody can keep me alive either, except briefly in a locked ward with restraints. I've never gotten there, and I hope I never will experience persistent thoughts of death or terrifying hallucinations that will drive me to such a place. But at that point, of course, I have to shout, "Help me! I can't keep myself alive anymore!" And that will pass my life onto that council member (Mom, Josh, Bruce), that intake person, that doctor, that paramedic. Yet even they will have limited power.
But as long as I don't get there, my main job is to keep myself alive. I have people whom I consider lifesavers, who are essential to my well-being. I have good memories to coat my brain. I have books and movies to make new ideas bloom and convince my brain that life is worthwhile. I have color to pierce the darkness. I have special objects (especially gifts) that help to tether me to the earth. I write to stay alive; I stay alive to write. As long as I have a tool and a surface, I will write, even if I have to write terrible words to purge my mind of its monsters. I have love. I have a child to whom I think I can be a good mother. I'm keeping myself alive.
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