The Pastor With a Semicolon Tattoo
My story isn’t over yet
(Trigger warning: suicidal ideation)
My colleague and I were walking alongside the train tracks in beautiful Vancouver. We were so excited! There was a bright future ahead of us. The church that we pastored sent us there to attend a personalized workshop, just for us!
Then the railroad shook. A train was approaching.
I immediately felt I was going to faint. My vision blurred, my hands were sweaty, and my knees shook. Holding my friend’s arm, I urged him to let me sit on a nearby bench.
The train passed, rumbling his mighty power just a few feet from us. My colleague sat with me, putting his arm on my shoulder. When the train was gone, he quietly whispered, “Josué, are you ok? What happened?”
“I wanted to jump,” I honestly answered.
I had a beautiful life, a job that kept me busy and excited, and a family that loved me.
Yet, I wanted to die.
When depression takes your soul hostage, suicide is the only acceptable exit presented in front of you. You see the world passing by, but you cannot enter it. You are trapped in a glass bubble. You scream, but nobody hears you. You hit the glass, but nobody sees you.
