Part 2: The Night I Almost Gave Up (And How My Son Saved Me Without Even Knowing)
This is the part of my story I never planned on sharing. Honestly, I almost deleted this draft more times than I can count. But if even one person out there is where I was, then you need to read this.
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But here’s the truth I didn’t tell you in Part 1—something darker. Something that almost ended my story before it could really begin
The Breaking Point
It was one of those nights when the silence felt heavier than the bills stacked on the table. Another “we regret to inform you” email had just lit up my phone. I stared at the screen, then at the dark ceiling above me.
And the thought hit: Maybe my family would be better off without me. Maybe if I unalived myself, they could at least claim something from death funds or pension.
It scared me how logical it sounded in the moment. Like maybe disappearing would be less painful than failing again. But then I heard it.
The Cry That Pulled Me Back
From the crib came the faintest sound—my son, just 2 months old, letting out a tiny cry. I walked over, picked him up, and held him against my chest.
That moment shattered everything.
He was so small, so fragile, and yet in my arms he felt like the strongest anchor in the world. The truth hit me harder than any job rejection ever could: if I gave up, he’d never know me. He’d never laugh with me while we beat pixelated turtles on our retro console. He’d never sit beside me learning Mario’s jumps or Contra’s chaos.
If I left, his story would start with loss. And I couldn’t let that be his first chapter.
The Shift
That night didn’t magically erase the pain. I still drove Uber. I still faced rejection emails. But I kept going—because now it wasn’t just about me. It was about being there for him.
Every time I sat in my gaming chair, controller in hand, I reminded myself: losing isn’t the end. You respawn. You hit continue. You keep playing.
Every time I looked at my little shelf of anime figures, I reminded myself: every hero I admired fell, struggled, but stood back up again. Why should I be any different?
My son gave me the reason. Gaming and anime gave me the tools. Together, they kept me alive.
The Life Lesson
Here’s what I’ve learned: Sometimes we don’t survive for ourselves. Sometimes we survive because someone—maybe a tiny 2-month-old who can’t even say your name yet—needs us to.
So if you’re reading this, and you’re in that dark place thinking you don’t matter, let me be living proof: you do. You matter more than you’ll ever realize.
Because one day, someone—your child, your partner, even a stranger—might need your story to remind them to keep going.
For me, it was my son. He saved me without ever knowing. And now, every time we fire up that retro console, laughing at pixelated chaos, I know for sure: choosing to stay was the best decision I’ll ever make.
Game on, little man. For you, I’ll always hit continue.
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