OCD took me to the brink of suicide, where I contemplated the various ways to take my life. In a year where after my OCD diagnosis in April, then my stepdad ended up in a home as he has vascular dementia, and has rapidly declined. My aunty who helped raise me after my dad died on Christmas day when I was six years old, has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. After this, I tore my ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament), MCL (Medium Cruciate Ligament), and meniscus and fractured my leg. I then ended up in the hospital with severe pneumonia.
After this I found out my cousin was murdered, his body was tied up and he was found with gunshots that killed him. Then whilst in therapy, I found out my half-brother who I never met and only communicated with a few times died of cancer on 25th August. Then, my Aunty, my mother's sister also died.
There was so much pressure on my back and the responsibility and weight of being a man weighed too heavily on me. The one thing that was supposed to be my coat of shining armor my masculinity, was instead the straitjacket I wore. Being a man at times brings about unique struggles, but writing suicide notes is ready to say goodbye to everyone. I stopped myself and went to sleep and woke up crying scared of where my mind could take me. Hopelessness became hope and my
voicelessness became the voice I needed. I realized just how many people reached out to me that change was needed.
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