Crying-The Most Human Response
November 25, 2025
A walk could save your life.
I know that sounds a little too simple, and maybe it is…but hear me out anyway. A walk could save your life.
A gentle warning
This is personal and deals with depression and suicidality. If you are tender in those areas, feel free to skip to the last two paragraphs. If you’re still with me, here we go. In the fall of 1994, when I was 16, I was psychiatrically hospitalized due to severe depression and suicidal ideation. Prior to my hospitalization, I stood in my dad’s bathroom with a bottle of Tylenol PM in my hand…but I didn’t do it. This was one time my over thinking worked in my favor. There were too many potential outcomes that I didn’t want…so I put it back and walked away. I’m not sure how much time passed before I told my mom that I was empty and sad and heavy and full of despair and wanted to take the pills but couldn’t take the pills, but I eventually told her. That led to an intake and me being hospitalized because in addition to over thinking, I like to be honest. When they asked if I could guarantee my safety, I said I didn’t know how I’d feel or what I’d do the next day…so in I went…for 10 days. I don’t remember much of that time, but there were other kids and “school” and “psycho volleyball” and games of Uno and medication and terrible food. I was the model patient…and then I went home.
The time immediately following a psychiatric hospitalization is one of the highest risk periods for suicide.
I wanted to be home, but I was still depressed. I couldn’t go to school. I didn’t know what to say…if I even wanted to see anyone. I didn’t know how I could just go back and pretend I was fine. So, my mom let me stay home. I stayed in bed for a day…or more…I don’t remember. Then, one day, as I was lying in my bed, the door to my bedroom popped open. Now, you must understand that the house I grew up in was built in 1857. Floors creaked. Doors didn’t always latch properly. There were still keyholes even in the bedroom doors. Doors popped open…but when this one did, I thought “that’s my sign. I need to get up and take the pills.” But, thankfully, the amotivation and heaviness of depression was real. I couldn’t move.
Then, in walked my mom. I don’t know how long passed between the door opening and her walking in, but I know she didn’t open it. It was a significant amount of time. She walked in and informed me that I didn’t have to go to school…but I did have to get up and take a walk. I’m sure I grumbled and maybe even rolled my eyes, but somehow (I have no clue how!) she got me to do it. I got up.
We took a walk.
I don’t think we talked much, but we walked…and my mom was next to me. The air was crisp. My body could indeed move…and move purposefully. There was a world outside my bedroom. Cars rushed by. Birds sang. Dogs barked. The world was still there…and I was still in it.
It’s not magic, but…
Now, before you think I’m trying to say that this was some magical walk through which I was completely healed, I’ll tell you that’s not what happened and that’s not the point. That walk alone didn’t save my life. My mother did. For a long time, medication did (I’ve been off now for well over 10 years). Yoga did. Meditation did. Therapy did. Friends did. Family did. Life did…all of these things together did.
But it started with that walk.
So, the next time you don’t know what to do or how to feel or what is happening, remember a walk could save your life. Go take a walk…maybe with another person. Let their presence be felt. If a walk feels like too much time alone with your thoughts, make it even more grounding. Focus on each footstep. Right. Left. Right. Left. Feel the air on your skin. Give each sensation your full attention. Notice the smells…the sounds…the way the light hits the trees. Movement…within you and around you. Being in nature is a natural anti-depressant. Explore it. Really see the signs of life all around you and know…no, deeply feel…that you are part of it.
A walk could save your life.