I’m going to be doing some personal posts to raise mental health awareness this May.

I live with chronic suicidal ideation as part of my schizoaffective bipolar type.

Something I get asked often (too often, if we’re being honest, given why people are asking) is the reason I choose life when my brain doesn’t really ever want me to.

The answer is both simple and complex, at least in my opinion. I’m curious about what will happen if I do. I’ve got my own set of beliefs on what happens if I don’t, but what if I do?

I’ve been in some very dark places, far darker than anyone should have to be, but I’ve also been so incredibly happy, felt so loved, and genuinely wanted to stay forever at times.

I’ve simply endured a lot of my life, sure, but I’ve also had times I adored every fucking second of it. I’m the queen of making a comeback, of surviving chaos and emerging from the rubble of my own downward spirals.

My satisfaction with life is up and down. I exist in the peaks and valleys of my illnesses. Yet, from the top of the mountain, things look so damn beautiful. Even the valleys below don’t look as scary as they truthfully are.

Things can be peaceful, calm, routine. Things can be exciting, new, and mindblowingly beautiful. Things can be better than this moment right here.

What will things look like in a month? A year? My curiosity mimics hope.

It’s that simple and that complex.