Fences, Pills and Possibilities

Guest Author: Mark

This content contains explicit and sensitive information that may not be suitable for all ages.

The other night I picked up the refill of my prescription for an anti-anxiety medication that I’ve been on for several years. There was nothing special about the pickup – I simply showed my ID to the pharmacist and made my way home.

My diagnoses are major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and complex PTSD. I have suffered from mental illness since I was a child. Mental illness runs up and down both sides of my family tree like a blight, so it’s not surprising that I too would face “the black dog.”

It seemed that I finally came to a crossroads, or as I call it, a fence.

On top of genetics, all throughout my childhood I was a victim of punishing verbal and emotional abuse.
I have tried every anti-depressant known to humankind it seems, and have been hospitalized on three occasions because of my illness.

But as I entered adulthood, it seemed that I finally came to a crossroads, or as I call it, a fence.

For years I have been sitting on a fence of sorts. On one side of the fence lies death, specifically death by my own hand. On the other side of the fence is a life where I listen to my inner voice which tells me that I have a lot to offer to the world and to act boldly, to stop living such a small life.

I sat on that fence again the other night after picking up my medication.

I had two options available to me as I held the open pill bottle in my hand. The first option was something I have considered hundreds, if not thousands of times. It consisted of throwing the entire bottle’s worth of pills (along with my other prescriptions) down my throat and hopefully ending it all. The second option was to stop living a life of half-steps and second-guessing, a life where my past abuse defines me. To live a life where I listen to that persistent inner voice which calls me to be the best version of myself that I can be. In that moment, holding that pill bottle, I knew that sitting on the fence was no longer an option for me. Doing so had been killing me slowly for years. The fence brought some level of comfort, but the trade-off was a life of constant fear and indecision.

Do whatever you need to do to get off that fence.

Perhaps you find yourself at a crossroads, or sitting on a fence like me. You’ve thought of suicide thousands of times but a small voice inside of you tells you that there is more to life than fear and dread. I get it, I’ve been there as recently as last night. If you can’t hear your inner voice right now, listen to the voices of those around you who know you best, the people who know that you have a whole hell of a lot to offer this world. You may need therapy, medication or a caring community to awaken from the nightmare. Do whatever you need to do to get off that fence.

I believe in you. I love you.



This story has given me so much hope. I. On the fence and a 37 year old mother of 3. I’ve tried medication as well resulting in an addiction battle with benzos and Ambien. I am so glad I found this community. Thank you for sharing this.

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