There is a Boogeyman who dwells deep within my psyche. I have worked hard to not let my life be dictated by the suggestions of this Boogeyman, I am in the driver’s seat of my choices. At times the Boogeyman was close to being in control, close to sitting in the driver’s seat and driving us off the road. I have worked hard to maintain control of my actions, to not let the Boogeyman find his win. And even though it has been a while since I have heard the Boogeyman’s voice, I feel as though he is still there. Lurking and waiting. Waiting for me to fall down, waiting for the time where his voice sounds appealing and tempting once again.
A lot of us have our own versions of “the Boogeyman” we have had to battle. It can be a million different vices for a million-different people, but for me the Boogeyman is suicide. I was in the 8thgrade the first time I heard the voice of this dreadful demon. I had finally realized that I had a tendency to crush on my male friends. Growing up in conservative Pentecostalism while realizing my attractions were not binary left me feeling as though I had few options. The discovery of my alternative orientation felt like a death sentence, and my Boogeyman would capitalize on this fear and vulnerability for nearly a decade.
I resisted the voices for a couple years. Whenever ideations ran rampant I would force myself to take walks around my neighborhood, heart beating loudly before I ever took a step. The harder the temptation grew to make an irreversible choice, the faster I walked. When I couldn’t walk, I would listen to music. Hours were spent lying on my couch weeping as I played The Shadow Proves the Sunshine by Switchfoot over and over. I would sing that chorus through my tears, desperately searching for any glance of the sunshine to be found in my shadows.
I was fifteen the first time I tried to kill myself. I figured I could chug a bottle of bleach and that would do the trick. It left me on my bathroom floor, weeping in the shame and the puke. The Boogeyman would whisper many more alluring ideas throughout my life. Whenever the pressure got too much to handle, whenever I felt no control over my circumstances, I knew I could always count on the voice to tell me I could end it all, and never have to feel this way again.
For everyone who can recall it, September 11th, 2001 is a day burned deep into our psyches. There are images of that day which will never leave my head, though one stands out above the rest. As the buildings flooded with fire and ash, many opted to jump out the windows of the gigantic edifices, wishing to rather take their chances with the fall than with the flame. Anyone who has felt the allure of suicide before understands this impulse. It’s not because we’re cowards. It’s not because we want the easy way out. It’s because sometimes the building is too damn hot, and we feel the only option is to jump.
Through counseling, vulnerability, prayer, and sacred conversations with my wife and a few trusted friends, I have learned to resist the voice of the Boogeyman. I have learned to believe the goodness in my life. I have learned to trust another voice. The voice that says “there’s still time to be surprised.”I have bought into hope, to the ideathat all the pain, the fire in the building, is data, not destiny. Even if it feels like I’m burning up, and the building is crashing, perhaps rescue is on the way.
And to you, who reads this, who knows the voice of the Boogeyman, I say the same things to you. Maybe, just maybe, there is still time to be surprised. Maybe, just maybe, you’re not going down with the ship. The world needs you. It needs your gifts. It needs your dreams. It needs your love. It needs your vulnerability. It needs your beauty. It needs you to rebuild that old vintage car you’ve always wanted to fix. It needs you to dance in pretty dresses. It needs you to write that book, to take that dream vacation, to ask that girl out, to take risks, and to bounce back from failures.
The Boogeyman is a liar. He will never tell you the truth. There is another voice to hear, one to give you hope and define your reality. Hang in there. Wipe the spit from your eye, and expect the unexpected.
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