(This is Part 3 of my personal series: "The Light I Found In The Dark").
There’s a part of my story I’ve hesitated to write.
Not because I’m ashamed anymore but because I know how heavy it can be to carry even someone else’s pain.
Still, I promised I would tell the truth. And this part is the truth.
I’ve had days where I didn’t want to stay. Not metaphorically. Not figuratively. I mean the kind of days where the air felt too thick to breathe, and the thought of continuing felt impossible.
I was young. And hurting. And invisible, even to myself. And one day, I acted on that pain.
It wasn’t a cry for attention. It wasn’t drama. It was despair... the kind that’s silent, sharp, and chillingly logical when you’re in it. I don’t remember every detail. But I remember the feeling.
The numbness before. The emptiness after. And somewhere in the in-between, the flicker of something that said: “If you make it through this, you owe yourself a different life.”
I did make it through. Not because I suddenly wanted to live. But because, somehow, I didn’t leave. And even now, years later, it still feels surreal.
Depression has never fully left. It shows up sometimes like an old shadow - familiar, uninvited, and quiet. But I meet it differently now.
I don’t fight it with false light or spiritual bypassing. I meet it with tools. With boundaries. With softness. With the hard-won wisdom of someone who knows what it’s like to almost not be here.
Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m alive.
Not just breathing. But living. Building a life with integrity, with beauty, with meaning. Creating a space like Crystolight & You, where others don’t have to feel as alone as I once did.
If you’ve ever stood at that edge, even if no one knows, Please hear me when I say: You’re not a burden. You’re not broken. And your story isn’t over.
Even now, as you read this… You’re still here.
And that matters more than you know.
With love and with all my breath,
Eileen