Being in a Dark Place: Talking About Suicidal Thoughts Openly
Warning: This blog post contains discussion of suicidal thoughts and mental health struggles, which may be distressing to some readers. Please take care of yourself while reading. If you're in crisis or need support, help is available—resources are listed at the end of this blog.
Will I be missed when I’m gone?
Would leaving this world even matter to those around me?
Would my death serve some greater purpose?
If the pain is unbearable, why should I keep going?
Why stay alive just to endure more trauma?
If you've ever received devastating news or been through something that left you feeling trapped in a dark place, you're not alone. Most of us—at some point—have been there. We may not act on those thoughts, but we often feel ashamed of them and keep them hidden.
According to the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA), 4% of the population has seriously considered suicide in the past year. That’s millions of people quietly suffering.
For me, that moment came suddenly. One day, without warning or discussion, I was told my relationship was ending. There was no conversation, no pause, no chance to understand or plead my case. Just a blunt and final decision. And with it, my world crumbled.
I spiraled. Thoughts became overwhelming. In a panic, I Googled: “how to overdose on pills.”
I know how that sounds. Maybe you think I’m being dramatic or seeking attention. But what I was really looking for was a lifeline. A way to escape the pain, yes—but also a way to be heard. People in crisis often don’t want to die; they want someone to notice they’re drowning.
During that relationship, I often felt neglected—opposite schedules, the weight of childcare and housework solely on me. In moments of bitterness, I would mutter to myself, “How would they survive without me?” At the time, it felt justified. What I didn’t fully grasp was how my partner might’ve been struggling, too—burdened by guilt for being away, working hard to support us.
But this time felt different. The pain was sharper. The thoughts louder. I curled up on the couch, eyes swollen from crying, chest tight with panic, trying to focus on my phone screen to read the results of my search.
And then something unexpected happened.
Google didn’t give me what I was looking for. Instead of “how-to” guides, I saw hotlines, support resources, crisis text lines. In that moment, I felt surprised—and, oddly, a bit of humor broke through the fog. For a second, I thought: Wow, in a world where politicians can’t agree on anything, we’ve somehow all agreed that suicide isn’t the answer.
That realization jolted me back to myself.
I knew I had to be safe. I called one family member—no answer. I called another and explained, briefly, what I was feeling. Her response? “Come over. Now.”
Even after that night, the darkness didn’t magically disappear. I still had low moments. But I began talking about it—with a close friend, with my therapist, with people I trusted.
And I was shocked to learn that one of my friends had actually attempted suicide in the past. They understood completely. They told me they’d even reported their own overdose to 911, which led to being hospitalized in a psychiatric unit—“the most miserable experience of my life,” they said. But we connected through that vulnerability. I wasn’t alone anymore.
That connection changed everything.
There’s comfort in knowing you’re not the only one. Some days the heaviness lasted a few hours. Other times, it stretched into days. But every time I leaned into my support system, things got just a little lighter.
Therapy helped. My therapist never judged me—only listened. That compassion inspired me. I want to promote that same openness in the world.
We need to talk about suicide. About self-harm. About mental health struggles.
We need to be able to say “I’m struggling” without fear of judgment.
We need to be kinder—to strangers, to friends, to ourselves—because we never know what someone is silently carrying.
This won’t be the last time I visit a dark place. But now, I know what matters most: making it okay to talk about it.
Often, those who speak about suicidal thoughts won’t act on them. But if we keep conversations open—if we remind each other that it’s okay to feel pain—then maybe, just maybe, someone will reach for a hand instead of searching Google.
Maybe instead of typing “how to overdose”, they’ll pick up the phone and say:
“I’m really struggling. Can you check on me? Can you help me feel less alone?”
If You’re Struggling, You Are Not Alone
If you or someone you know is in emotional distress or thinking about suicide, please reach out. Help is always available:
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline (U.S.)
Call or text 988
Free, confidential support available 24/7
Chat online: 988lifeline.org
Crisis Text Line
Text HELLO to 741741
Free support from trained crisis counselors, 24/7
Visit: crisistextline.org
