HID Hope In Darkness

HID is dedicated in memory of Angel,
who took her life in March of 2008.
You are loved and missed forever.
"What would you think of me now, so lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank you for that, now I'll never have a chance.
May angels lead you in. May angels lead you in."
-Lyrics from Hear You Me by Jimmy Eat World
What is
Hope In Darkness?

HID Hope In Darkness began from a simple spark, a desire to make a difference. My name is Alex; you can call me Allie if you want. I am 17 and I run this page. I dealt with depression and self-injury for several years. I am here to tell you that hope and recovery is not just a dream, it is real. I am here to tell you that though it will not always be easy, that though the road to recovery is a long and difficult one, it is a road that is right in front of you and one that you do not have to walk on alone. The vision is for HID to be a bridge to community, hope, and healing. The vision is to see people come together, one by one, and talk about these things. Hide in silence no more. You are not alone. Hope is real. You will make it through. Your story is important.
"The youth is starting to change; are you starting to change? Are you? Together."
-Lyrics from The Youth by MGMT
Alex's
Story

Three years ago I wanted to end my life. Three years ago, I struggled with self-injury and on occasion, substance abuse. I am here today and I am free from my addictions. I am free from my past pain. I want people to know that they can be too. Hope and recovery is real. Here is my story.
Those younger years of my life, I remember a lot of fighting. I remember people who did not know how to express what they were feeling. Memories of physical and verbal abuse burned inside my young mind, haunting my dreams, shaping my fears. The older I got, the more I wondered, why? Why did people say they loved when they could not really show it? The memories fragmented and stayed in the back of my mind, lurking and waiting for the day they demanded to be answered for.
I began cutting at the age of 13. I developed a fascination with watching myself bleed. I felt nothing inside the first few times I cut. But it quickly changed into a monster. Concerned friends questioned why I was cutting. They pushed me to think deeper, to not just stay on the simple surface. And those memories of confusion, and abuse, and anger; they were waiting. I questioned everything. I questioned the validity of love and the value of my life. I began to think that the only reason someone would hit me was because there was something wrong with me. I was flawed, messed up, a let down. Confused friends, one by one, turned their back and walked away, tired of repeating the same lines and getting nowhere. My cutting had become an everyday addiction, multiple times a day. Wrists, arms, anything and everywhere. One friend, she stuck with me until the end. I will never know what compelled me to share my pain with her, maybe it was out of desperation, or fear, or loneliness. But she took it upon herself to help hold me up. The gaping hole inside of my heart reacted in many ways to her love. I was shocked, that someone would care so much, and yet, I wanted to hurt her sometimes. I tried to push her away, thinking that perhaps it’d be better that way, easier to end my life and not have her so attached. But no matter what I did or said, she never left my side.
The morning I called her in the bathroom and left her a crying voicemail, telling her how I loved her but could not continue this life anymore, I will never forget. Sliding my hand down the door and wishing she could be beside me. She cracked. She told on me. She let out my secret. A youth pastor called my house. My parents were alerted. I hated my friend for it. I sat there on the floor with my head in my hands, considering running out of my garage and just running. I was forced to apologize to her for what I said. I could not get the words out of my mouth. She cried and cried and I was ready to end it all that night. I could not bear to lose someone else.
I tried. I tried to end my life. But amidst floating in and out of consciousness, something told me that it was going to get better. I remembered a letter she wrote me. I remembered her writing and telling how she would never forget me and how she loved me so much. In that moment I knew I had to stay. I had to stay for the one, who gave her all, to save me. I realized that she told because she could not bear to lose me. She was willing to do whatever it took before letting go and letting me die.
Often we hide in the comfort of silence because we fear judgment. We fear being misunderstood or laughed at. We fear appearing weak. All around there are millions struggling and hurting and battling through memories and pain. Everyday that you do not give in to the demons inside of your head, every day that you flush the pills or throw down the gun, you are becoming stronger. You have a story to tell and it is important. Look up at the blue sky and close your eyes and listen really closely; push aside the pain and lies of hate. The soft whispering of the trees is telling you that you are loved. You were created by a God who loves you and cares about you, from the moment you took your first breath, to every tear you cry alone at night. I believe in a God who has something bigger planned for all of us, you me, the world at this moment, at this time. Stand up for what you believe in; stand up in the hope for tomorrow, that there is so much more for us, even if we can’t see it at the moment. In that, you will find strength. It’s where I found mine, and where I continue to find it, every day, every hour. I told a friend once that “Your story will have an end. You will find hope.” And your story WILL have an end. Hope is right before your eyes.
Connection, Community:
The HID Street Team

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Movement, Discussion:
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