Hey all, I'm new to this whole online support group thing. I've been putting off telling my story for a little over a year now. I just haven't been ready, i guess i am now. In April of 2016, my boyfriend and I of 5 years split up, and I moved out of our house. Things had been progrossively going down hill quickly for the 6 months prior to our spilt. He had always had a tendancy of getting depressed from time to time, but dont we all, and he always pulled out of it. But this time was different. He turned to alcohol and became angry. I didnt even recognize him. He had always been so stronge, so level headed. I always felt that no matter what life threw at us, we would get through it together. And we did, for years. I took a trip home to stay with my parent's for the weekend. Just to be close to family and friends while i figured out what i was going to do. It was a great weekend. I rode 4 wheelers at the river, sat by the fire with my brother and sisters. I felt like I was ready to make a major life change, and move on from what had become a destructive, and even dangerous, relationship. I  headed back to the city to make all the arrangements needed to move back home. When i got there, i didn't see his car in the driveway, so i assumed he had gone to work. I let myself in to what was once our home, and was mortified. Our dogs had obviously been left to fend for themselves for at least the weekend. They had torn apart and destroyed anything they could reach. I felt sick. I figured he had gone on a binder, probably stayed at one of his drinking buddy's houses. I was so angry, how could he be so selfish as to neglect our dogs like that. It wasn't like him. I gathered up a few things, fed the dogs and promised them i would be back for them that night. I got in to my car and put the keys in the ignition. For some reason the garage door caught my eye. It was down. That was weird it was never down. Then i remembered one last thing i needed, "I bet it's in the garage" I remember saying outloud. So i got out of the car and walked over to the garage. Lifted the door and it was in that moment that my life forever changed. There he sat, on his knees, bloody nose, rope around his neck. Lifeless. I just screamed. I tasted metal in my throat. I got in my car and called 911 as i drove away. I dont know why i drove away, i didnt even close the garage door. It wasn't but 2 minutes later and as i sat in the parking lot of our neighborhood gas station i wathced the abulance and police speed by. I dont know why but for a split second, their sirens gave me hope. Maybe he wasn't dead, maybe they could bring him back. But of course, that hope was soon destroyed.

I guess my hope today, in sharing this story, is that maybe somewhere out there is someone else who needs what I've been searching for, someone who's been there to talk to. Because i dont know about other suicide survivors, i just want to know someone understands and isnt just sorry for my loss, but has felt it too.