A few days ago someone said something to me that has been stirring inside me ever since. Not a good stir. And not a good topic. Not something I would never talk about publicly, and never in a million years finding myself writing a blog about. But in hopes of shedding some light on a much misunderstood topic, a very relevant one in today’s society, and one that is now a part of my story. Suicide. Relax. Obviously I am here typing this story so it didn’t happen. But if I were recording a tape from 13 Reasons Why this would be one of them.
Recently my world has literally fallen apart. My wife, the love of my life, my everything, my best friend…left me. My family torn apart. I lost my job. Had been out of work since February desperately looking for anything without any luck at all. My daughter and I have been living on next to nothing trying to make ends meet the best we can. Sounds like a country song right? If only I could play it backwards and get it all back! I have been deeply depressed. And that is putting it lightly. I stayed in bed for days on end. Not eating. Not sleeping. Just crying. Throwing up. I would get up only to make sure my daughter had food or to take her where she needed to be. I was endlessly applying for jobs. I would put on my makeup, cry it off on the way there. Fix myself in the car before going in. Cry on the way back home. Crawl back into bed. And do it all over again the next time. This went on for weeks. Months. The panic attacks are still insane. I even have them in my sleep. I wake up gasping for air, thinking I am dying because I cannot breathe. Clinching at my chest, the tears rolling down my cheeks, trying to calm myself down as my heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat. Wishing the dog could dial 911 so someone could come help me. The mental and physical pain from a broken heart is real. And it is unbearable. I write all this not to seek attention. But to paint the picture of where this blog is going.
The way people deal with pain is different. And to each their own. On the night of June 5th, as I sat alone in my home, hysterical crying, I felt I was to the point where I needed the pain to stop. I couldn’t take the physical pain another minute. I was not the strong person everyone thought I was. I was not the mother my daughter needed me to be. I just wanted the pain I was feeling to go away. So I took the keys to the truck and I went into the garage, and I started it. And as I sat there crying the pain was more intense at that moment than it has ever been. My broken heart…how was it even still beating? I called out for help. But no one came. I wanted to die, but only because I wanted to the pain to end. It seemed like I had been in there forever. How long did this take? I was too scared. So I turned it off and opened the garage door. I cried myself to sleep sitting right there. But the next night…I did it all over again. And again….I was too scared.
So here’s where the stirring comes in…If anyone ever confides in you that they have attempted suicide…don’t tell them that’s the coward’s way out. You have no idea what they are feeling or what they are going through. And let me tell you something…everyone is entitled to how they feel. You have no right to tell them how they should feel. Anyone that is low enough to attempt to take their own life and is confiding in you with that information is trusting you enough that they think you will support them in some way shape or form, not come back with some type of negative comment such as that. People who attempt suicide have their reasons and I can guarantee you that none of those reasons is to ever intentionally hurt someone they love. You’re missing the point completely. It’s solely about the pain they are feeling. And if you can’t find anything to say that isn’t negative, then turn around and walk away without saying a damn thing! If you cannot be supportive than learn to just be quiet.
I am in a better place now. No I am in no way shape or form better. I have a long way to go. I may not ever be better. I still hurt. My heart is still in pieces. I don’t know that I will ever be whole again. Who knows. But what I do know is that I was stopped both those nights for a reason, and am thankful for that reason. I am not strong like I used to be, but I know I am brave because I was able to cont;nue on when I really, really didn’t want to. And I know that I now have something else to advocate even stronger for, because it is more personal now more than ever.
Know that if you’ve felt this way, or are feeling this way now that you’re not alone, nor do you have to be a warrior in this battle alone. There ARE people that care! Reach out…even if it’s to me!