Last week, people everywhere observed Suicide Prevention Week. Through a really awesome campaign from To Write Love on Her Arms, I saw a ton of really amazing posts from around the nation of people expressing why “you’ll see me tomorrow.”As I watched these posts flood my Twitter for days on end, I started asking myself the same question. Why will people see me tomorrow? What keeps me pushing to tomorrow? 

Struggling with depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts for years tends to put questions like those into a very small and tightly locked box. I am terrified that I will find that I don’t have a good enough reason to stay, that my reasons will be stupid or flaky or not good enough — and heaven forbid my reasons become people. People leave, and then I don’t have a reason to go on. What happens when I identify the reasons I stay alive and they disappear? 

Eventually, I stopped and thought about the last few months of my life. It had been rough — a lot of transitioning and not a lot of stability, which can cause someone with anxiety and depression to spiral pretty quickly. And on a few separate occasions, I did. My thoughts traveled back to a day that I sat in my best friend’s car and explained to her that I was giving up, that I could not continue and I didn’t want to try anymore. At that point, I thought I was going to be done living. 

I replayed that conversation in my head, saw my friend’s face, and wondered how I made it from then until now. 

Then, I thought of the billions of moments that had passed in the few months since that conversation. I thought of the people that made up those moments — my three best friends, my roommate, the people I work with. 

If I had chosen to take my life just a few months ago, I wouldn’t have gotten to see my first newspaper layout in print. I wouldn’t have seen the growth of the church service I’ve loved for years. I wouldn’t have experienced living on my own or playing my first coffee shop gig. 

If I had given up, I wouldn’t have gotten to experience family monopoly nights with one of my best friends, her husband and three little kids whom I’m crazy about. I wouldn’t get to FaceTime them a few times a week or see their spelling tests and talk to them about riding the bus. 

If I had given up, I wouldn’t have experienced countless road trips and huge conversations with someone to whom I can tell anything; she wouldn’t yell at me for playing too much Switchfoot in the car. 

My pillow wouldn’t smell like my best friend’s perfume because she shows up after working nights to take a nap and make sure I’m okay. 

There are countless others, so many more moments I would have lost. And there are many more to come.  

I am about to celebrate my 22nd birthday. And I choose to stay, to keep celebrating — because I have so many more moments ahead of me to celebrate. 

You will see me tomorrow because I live for the moments that make my life beautiful, even in the midst of the pain.