According to Statistics, I Should Be Dead

but God.

Photo by Hannah Busing on Unsplash

Trigger warning: In this piece I mention suicide and suicidal ideation. Please take care to not read it if it may affect you in an adverse way.

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Fridays are ruined now, I reasoned in my ten year old brain. I thought to myself about all the days of the week.

Sunday: X
Monday: X
Tuesday: X
Wednesday: X
Thursday: X
Friday: X
Saturday: X

There are no more good days, I whispered into the air as if trying to see if someone would respond. Anyone. The sharp terror of my reality had dulled to a sort of apathy. I was surrendered to the holes in the wall, the nights all alone, the absence of my father, even the dirty pants I wore to school. Turns out you can get used to the yelling and the bruises on your mother’s face and arms. It just takes time. It takes days and weeks and months until finally you’re marking off Friday in your head. No more good days.

No more days of the week where I had not witnessed abuse.

I don’t think about my childhood often, but every now and then the reality of what I experienced dawns on me all over again. The drugs, the poverty, the neglect, the abandonment, the beatings I witnessed, and so much more. Memories play in my mind and the sadness of those moments resurface. I look out the window into the cold gray and feel almost baffled at what I went through as a little girl with blond ringlets. Every now and then I allow myself to travel down those treacherous paths in my mind and I leave that space feeling gutted for that little girl. For me. But it’s not just sadness. Mingled with the mourning is gratitude and awe. I’m in awe of God. I know that if it wasn’t for him, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t be typing these words today.

There has been a good bit of research done to find the connection between Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) and the risk of suicide. Examples of ACEs are “exposure to childhood abuse (sexual, physical, and emotional), neglect (physical and emotional), and household challenges (e.g., parental incarceration, household mental illness, household substance use, parental divorce/separation, intimate partner violence) during the first 18 years of life.”¹ There’s a test you can take to find out your ACE score. Mine was nine out of ten. Researchers have found that adults who had four to six ACEs were 5000 times more likely to commit suicide.² How much more likely is a suicide attempt from people like me?

When I was 18, I sat at a stop sign on a country road, mascara stinging my eyes. I blinked through the blurry tears and stared at the headlights of the car that was approaching to my left on the road in front of me. All I would need to do to end the pain, I thought, was to pull out in front of the car. I gripped the wheel. Thankfully, the car in question passed before me before I could find the courage (for lack of a more fitting word) to turn ideation into reality. The selfishness of that moment is not lost on me, but that’s a topic for another day.

Only a couple years later, after a terribly brutal break-up, I found myself in that low place again. I had been carrying depression around like a heavy bag on my shoulder for months, not even knowing the source of my sadness. This break-up was all it took to send me overboard. I wanted to die. I laid in bed wondering what it would be like to end it all.

It was less than a year later that God plucked me out of my sin and also my despair. I can’t help but be in awe of what he has done—what he has spared me from. I’ll never know how my life would have gone had I continued in my hopeless trajectory. I shudder to imagine. I’m so thankful to be alive.

A couple years ago, I shared all of the trauma I had experienced with a therapist for the first time. “You are very resilient,” she declared. I thought about this for a long time. I’m not sure my own resiliency has anything to do with it. No, I’m here today because God chased after me and offered me a hope and joy I couldn’t resist. And then he changed me.

This is not to say I don’t struggle with mental health. I am diagnosed with a severe phobia/OCD that sometimes causes bouts of depression. But where emptiness used to fill every crevice in my heart, there is now a hope that anchors my soul. There’s a sense of awe over the God who saved me in so many ways.

I don’t know what your story is, but if you are battling depression or suicidal thoughts, Jesus sees. He cares. He wants to hold you in your pain and offer you a hope that will never fail you. Trusting in him for salvation may not take away your struggles, but it will give you a sturdy hope to cling to. More importantly, a Man of Sorrows who clings to you.

1

“Adverse Childhood Experiences and Suicide Risk: Toward Comprehensive Prevention.” National Library of Medicine, September 1, 2018. https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5603224/.

Lmft, Emma McAdam. “The Body Keeps the Score - Book Summary by a Therapist W/O the Triggering Bits - Therapy in a Nutshell.” Therapy in a Nutshell (blog), January 14, 2025. https://therapyinanutshell.com/the-body-keeps-the-score/.

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2. ICYMI
I Shared My Story of Spiritual Abuse on Substack
I Didn’t Choose the Writing Life on Substack
Old Beast on Substack
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