Two years ago I found myself drowning in a suicidal depression. I dealt with anxiety and panic attacks my whole life and had been struggling with increasingly worse depression. Having grown up around addicts, I thought I understood what “hitting bottom” meant, but this depressive dip I found myself in showed me that sometimes “bottom” has a basement. I buried myself deeply under self-sabotaging and numbing patterns. Feeling anything was just too much at the time. But the thing I learned about numbing was: you can’t numb the bad without numbing the good. So I found myself engaging in risky and reckless behaviors just to feel something. I was looking for an accident to take me out. I would ride my bike in heavy, fast traffic hoping a car would side swipe me and end it. I was done with life. Memories had surfaced and the weight of my past had become too much. I was ready to check out.