In this poignant entry of our 'Voices of Resilience: Anonymous' series, we share a story that deeply touches on the complexities of human connection, the unforeseen impact of our actions, and the profound moments of realization that lead us to say, 'I've had enough.' This narrative unfolds a heartfelt journey from loss and guilt to a decisive moment of personal transformation. Though the identity remains concealed, the experience shared is a universal reminder of the fragile threads that tie us to one another and the strength found in choosing a new path. Join us as we honor this silent voice and the memory of Felicia, whose story continues to inspire change.
At what point did you finally say "I've had enough"?
"When I decided to get hammered (I was a lightweight) and message a girl who lived between Colorado and Arizona where her daughter lived that I was in love and wanted to us to be a thing. We chatted and flirted before on other occasions over social media over the years. Knew each other a little bit but enough I guess. Only about 1-2 years apart in age. She was super pretty.
I live in Michigan.
Anyhow I sent the message over a weekend and decided to apologize on a Monday. I felt bad and decided to sit in my shame for a couple days. She had seen it but not responded. But I meant what I said.
She ended up committing suicide from a battle with PTSD and depression that not a lot of us knew about. Left behind her daughter who was 6-7 at the time and everyone contributed to a go fund me for funeral expenses which were exceeded. Also prior to this she’d been speaking out about predatory dudes in the music scene in Colorado and parts of Arizona. Everyone was so proud of her too. She thought nobody would believe her. We all did.
I never got to apologize. I reached out to a mutual friend to express my regret and grief. That was the last thing she saw from me. This friend said with absolute confidence that the girl who passed didn’t think I was a scumbag.
She died on July 20th 2020. I messaged her on the 18th. I decided that day was my last drink.
I miss you Felicia."
If you have a story of resilience and transformation you'd like to share anonymously, we're here to listen and uplift your voice. Your journey matters, and your experiences can inspire and bring hope to others navigating their own paths. Please reach out to us; let's ensure that no story goes unheard. Together, we can continue to build a community of support, understanding, and shared strength.
