The Question I Ask Myself Every New Year: "Why am I Still Here?"

It's gonna be a fun blog post everyone. Trigger warning ahead for morbid topics involving suicide, read with caution please.

But honestly, it’s a genuine question I ask myself every December 31st, like clockwork since I was 21: Why am I still here?

Why am I still breathing? Why am I still waking up in the morning? Why am I choosing to get up, go to work, and be productive? It’s a mix of the idea of New Year’s resolutions and my suicidal thoughts kicking in at the perfect time—a combination of my regular depression and seasonal depression.

I grew up believing I wouldn’t live past 21. I thought I’d either end my life, die in some stupid accident, or maybe my heart attack at 20 would be the thing that took me out. But here I am at 26—still here, day in and day out. I didn’t plan for much beyond 21, and when I got there, I was flying by the seat of my pants, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I did attempt to end my life at 18, but one of my friends intervened before it was too late. I’m so grateful to them, even though I still have suicidal thoughts often. On some level, I still believe I shouldn’t be here and that nothing would change if I were gone.

From turning 21 to now, I’ve actually had so much fun figuring out what I want to do with the life my parents gave me. Sure, some years sucked total ass. My high school years were filled with abuse from my alcoholic father, and my adult years weren’t much different. Only recently, in the past two years, did I manage to finally get out and start recovering from it. My sisters and my mom also got out, and they’ve started to recover too—though I keep saying we all need therapy, not just the depressed, suicidal middle child (aka me).

I discovered what I wanted to do with the skills I’d learned. After all the shit jobs I endured to get them, I finally landed my dream job, and it was amazing. For the first time in my life, I was happy to go to work every day. My boss was incredible, my team was full of amazing people, I made lifelong friends, and I got to work on special projects outside my job description because of skills I had that others didn’t. I had opportunities to showcase what I was capable of in front of directors and VPs.

Unfortunately, that time was short-lived. After a year, I was unfairly laid off toward the end of 2024. I know it wasn’t my performance or anything professional—it was all about workplace politics and the fact that I didn’t kiss the right asses to secure my job. Even so, I’ll never regret the choices I made, the people I chose to be around, or the way I performed my job duties the whole time.

Now we’re heading into 2025, where I’ll be 27. Hopefully, I’ll have a new job, continue my 3-year relationship with my partner, move into a new home, and stay connected to my family and loved ones. With all that, people might wonder why I’m still searching for a reason to stick around, to keep breathing—and honestly, why I’d even consider ending it in the first place.

For those who understand the headspace that comes with years of suicidal thoughts, the answer is often simple: We’re just tired. Tired of trying, tired of talking, tired of socializing, tired of everything.

So, no—I don’t have an answer to my own question of why I’m still here. For anyone else asking themselves the same question, I don’t have an answer for you either, and I’m sorry for that. While I’m not in a place where I’m considering another attempt, the weight of it is still there. I still imagine life without me in it, It’s A Wonderful Life style, except I’m my own Clarence. (Please, someone get this reference, lol.)

Regardless of what I decide, to anyone in my situation: I’m giving you a big virtual hug and a reminder that you’re not alone. 2024 sucked, and 2025 might suck too, but that doesn’t mean it has to suck all the life out of you. It’s unbelievably hard, and it’s okay to rot in bed for a day or two to recharge. Anyone who tells you otherwise doesn’t know you the way you know yourself.

I wish you all a calm start to 2025. Do your best with whatever comes your way, and if you’ve truly done your best, tell your brain to shut the fuck up for a while so you can breathe.