My cousin was killed in a car wreck when I was 8 years old. She was thrown from a convertible when it wrapped itself around a telephone pole. This was my first experience with death. I was amazed at the attention she received. The viewing, the funeral, the wake, so many people crying and loving her. I craved that kind of attention. I wanted to be loved that much. I was 3 years into the wrong kind of attention. The secret kind. It was from my uncle, who sexually abused me.

I became obsessed with death.

Flirting with suicide started in my teens, putting myself in dangerous situations, hoping to die or be seriously injured. The accolades for being brazen and thrill seeking amazed me. I interpreted it as love and gave me value. It also gave me a bizarre high, amplified by alcohol and drugs. When I began driving, I thought I had found my escape plan. I will simply kill myself by wrecking my car. Brilliant. It would not look like suicide.

For decades the idea constantly floated on the surface of my mind. There were many attempts.

Married with 4 sons, I lived in the country with lots of 2 lane narrow roads. Large dump trucks and semis were always speeding down the main route. All I had to do was cross that yellow line.

I had convinced myself that my impending suicide was out of love. My brain was conditioned to believe love was about sacrifice and I was designed to sacrifice my life.

One particular day, being emotionally stomped on and confused, I was speeding down the road. Topping a hill, about 500 yards away, a large dump truck was coming my way. Here was the opportunity. Alone in the car. No other vehicles around. Flat corn fields on both sides. The moment I had imagined was real. It was happening. I could do it. I moved straight into the path of the dump truck. Truck headlights flashed and the horn blared. I was 2 seconds in the wrong lane before I moved back. The truck passed.

I DID NOT WANT TO DIE!!!!!

The rest of the day I was numb, going through the motions of being a mother and wife. The recordings of suicide in my head were all warbled and nonsensical now, sounding like a stretched out cassette tape.

I went to bed early that evening, recalling the day. The emotions caught up to me. I didn’t bawl or scream uncontrollably. Tears simply welled up in my eyes and fell for almost 2 hours. It was cathartic. A heaviness had lifted. No longer was this poison inside me.

I have no idea what caused this paradigm shift. Was it maturity? Had I suddenly realized every bad circumstance passes and life continues? Did all I need was more experience living?

I was finally at peace. Not Resting in Peace. I was Living in Peace. I was Loving, myself, in Peace.

I had broken through.

Photo + Edits: Tim Brosius / Models: Melissa Blaner, Yury Lomakin / Concept: Andrew Key, Rebecca Ellis, Samantha Trionfo, Tim Brosius