Yesterday was 13 months. I was on my way to my second survivors of suicide support group when I realized it. I'd had a really shitty day and wasn't going to go, but I felt like I had to. I'm glad I did. It's hard, and I don't like crying the way I do when I'm there, in front of all of those people that I don't know, but no one judges. No one shakes their head at the things I say. In fact, they all nod in agreement at the way I'm feeling, or at the seemingly absurd things I say. You see, they're where I am. Sure, some of them are further along, some aren't as far along, but they get it. They get me. I'm glad I found them. Because right now they are the people I need. If you've never lost anyone to suicide, I pray with all of my heart that you never do. That you never feel this... this emptiness, this guilt, this anger, this hate, this hopelessness, this despair, this sadness.
