ConfessionsPeachTwig

21 Jul 4 min read

I Almost Became Another "Rest in Peace" Status, But God Had Other Plans

I want to share this here because the people around me have no idea that I almost took my own life. If you met me today, you would never believe it. I laugh. I crack jokes. I encourage other people. I even tell people that everything will be alright. But there was a time when I prayed every night not to wake up. I grew up believing that if you worked hard, stayed out of trouble, and treated people well, life would eventually smile on you. Instead, life dealt me one blow after another. I lost opportunities I prayed for. Money became a constant problem. Family members expected me to solve everyone's issues when I couldn't even solve my own. Friends slowly disappeared whenever I needed them. The people I sacrificed for moved on with their lives while I was left picking up the pieces of mine. Every morning I woke up with anxiety. Every night I went to bed with tears. I would scroll through social media and see people my age buying cars, getting married, relocating abroad, building houses, opening businesses, and posting smiling family pictures. Meanwhile, I was struggling to afford transport and pretending everything was okay. The comparison was killing me. People kept saying, "You're strong." The truth was, I wasn't. I was exhausted. There were days I would leave my house with a smile, greet everyone like nothing was wrong, then lock myself in my room and cry until my chest hurt. As a Nigerian, you're expected to "be strong." If you're a man, they tell you, "Real men don't cry." If you're a woman, they tell you, "Just pray harder." Very few people ask if you're actually okay. I stopped answering calls. I avoided people. I stopped going to church because I was tired of hearing, "Your breakthrough is near," when my reality kept getting worse. I felt abandoned by everyone... even by God. Then one night, everything became too much. I had reached my limit. I sat alone in the dark with tears running down my face. I wrote a goodbye message. I apologized to my family. I thanked the few people who had ever shown me kindness. I asked them not to blame themselves. I truly believed everyone would be happier without me. As I stared at my phone, trying to gather the courage to end it all, a message entered. It simply said: "I don't know what you're going through, but God asked me to tell you not to give up. You're going to survive this." I froze. The sender had no idea what I was about to do. I broke down completely. For over an hour, I cried like a baby. That message felt like God reaching into the darkest place of my life to remind me that He still saw me. The next morning, I deleted my goodbye message. Not because my problems had disappeared. Not because life suddenly became easy. But because I decided to fight for one more day. One day became one week. One week became one month. Slowly, I started asking for help. I stopped pretending to be strong all the time. I started praying again—not the long, powerful prayers people expected from me, but simple prayers like, "God, please help me survive today." I started taking walks. Reading books. Writing down my thoughts. Celebrating little victories. Getting out of bed became progress. Eating became progress. Laughing without forcing it became progress. Healing wasn't fast. There were days the dark thoughts returned. But they no longer controlled me. Today, I'm still building my life. I'm not rich. I don't have everything figured out. I still face challenges. But I no longer want to die. Instead, I want to live long enough to become the testimony I once prayed for. Sometimes I imagine what would have happened if I had gone through with it. People would have posted my picture with, "Gone too soon." Some would say, "We never knew he/she was going through so much." Others would write long tributes. Then, after a few weeks, life would move on. That thought changed me. I realized that while the world moves on, the people who truly love you are left carrying a pain that never completely disappears. If you're reading this and you're secretly fighting the same battle, please hear me. You are not weak. You are not a failure. You are not useless. You are not alone. Please don't suffer in silence. Talk to someone you trust. Cry if you need to. Pray if you can. Ask for help without shame. Your current chapter is not your entire story. The fact that you're still breathing means your story isn't finished yet. Today, I'm grateful I stayed alive. Because months later, I experienced moments I would have missed forever. I laughed again. I found hope again. I discovered that even the longest night eventually gives way to morning.