It was one week ago today that I considered taking my own life.
I just wrote, erased, and re-wrote that sentence a few times before deciding that there was no glamorous to make that statement. That was the heaviest, most intimidating, most vulnerable, most terrifying sentence to write.
One week ago today I was wide awake with six million thoughts running through my head. This was not unusual. My mind races more often than not. Sometimes it’s replaying conversations that happened years ago. Other times it’s experiencing severe anxiety over what if’s that haven’t happened, and honestly, might never happen. The open tabs of my brain are constantly telling me to be worried about things that I can’t control.
Once I have a vision for things (whether it is our plans for the weekend, what we’re making for a football party, or the way I see our lives going), I remain stuck in that vision. While I am aware that there are so many ways that my vision can be detoured, I don’t mentally allow for that.
To me, change is catastrophic. Change sends me spiraling down a rabbit hole. I cannot process how to fix the problem. I shut down. I become sad. Instead of finding a solution or seeing the bright side, I wallow in self-pity and devastation.
On the flip side, once I finally come around to the change – I throw myself 100% in. After going through the stages of chaos first of course. Then I am on team change.
For a few months now we’ve been making a lot of changes in our lives. Some I have adapted to very quickly. Others I have been grappling with for over a year now. One minute feeling hopeful and excited about it. The next time barely wanting to get off the couch, tears rolling down my face for hours at a time, unable to comprehend the change.
Monday was one of these days. After a week of over-discussing the issue with my husband I had succumb to my sadness. We get to a certain point in these conversations where I just need to let it go and I cannot. The OCD tells me to keep going, keep talking about it, don’t let it go, it’s not going away, you have to fix this right now. It becomes exhausting for us both and causes me to feel so much guilt for dragging him through this. The day was spent in tears every few minutes, attempting to get on team change but failing miserably. Most of the day I sat on the couch, only getting up at the request of my children’s needs, until Michael got home.
I excused myself to the shower where I sat and cried for 45 minutes. I was thinking about how to make this situation better, wanting to just. stop. bugging. Michael. about my insecurities and irrational thoughts on the topic, looking for a solution.
I found it, so I thought.
If I’m the only thing that is causing this particular situation to be such a huge deal – the solution is remove me from it. Taking myself out of the equation would solve it completely.
Michael spent this time celebrating the night before back to school with pizza and ice cream. After I got out of the shower, I laid on a chair in our room in the silence, in the dark, processing what I had just thought about. Thinking about how much easier I thought that would make everyone’s lives, Michael’s especially. I continually cause stress, create turmoil where there doesn’t need to be any, require assurance, become insecure without being given reason, etc. etc. etc. etc. All of the ways I cause him trouble ran through my mind at once.
I re-entered our little family just in time for bedtime stories and kisses. We watched some of our favorite show before Michael said goodnight and went to sleep. I sat next to him ready to explode with so many thoughts and feelings that I just couldn’t handle it.
Then I did what I do best, I wrote. It was probably the longest email I have ever written, but I wrote it all down and sent it to Michael. Every feeling, every fear, every irrational thought, and then I did it – I wrote down the suicidal thoughts I had been contemplating.
“Sometime in the few hours before you got home, it crossed my mind that if I just took a few more sleeping pills than I’m supposed to maybe this pain would go away”
As soon as I hit the send button, I jumped out of bed and went to his phone to delete it. Not because I didn’t want him to know how I felt, but because I felt immediate guilt for putting this on him. “Don’t you put him through enough?” is what I asked myself. I laid in bed the rest of the night hoping that I had deleted all the traces of that email from his phone. He didn’t need to carry that burden. That wasn’t fair.
The next day I got up and pushed through the morning routine of getting everyone up and off to school. Walking around like a zombie version of myself. Exchanging short texts with Michael throughout the morning when he suddenly showed up at home. This wasn’t usual. He came in and immediately asked me what he could do to help, telling me I couldn’t walk around like this anymore, in tears, depressed.
It was then that I told him about the email, about how I had sent it then deleted it, about how I felt that if I wasn’t here it’d all be better. He asked what I meant by ‘wasn’t here’ and through tears, I said ‘at all’. He knew what I was getting at and immediately took matters into his hands, insisting that I change and go with him, which I did. Within the hour I was with someone that wanted to help, then on the phone with a crisis counselor to discuss my plan of action going forward.
I have received a lot of comments and messages telling me what a great job I did by reaching out and getting help. The truth is, I really didn’t make that decision. I told someone and that someone took the initiative to get me help. That person knew that I needed more than he and I could give me in this moment. That person took action.
We all this illusion that Instagram if filled with perfection and staged photos. I have strived from the beginning to always share the mess, share the chaos, share the struggle. Even with that mindset, it was terrifying to share my story on Saturday and it is terrifying to write it down now. But I knew before this, and know even more now because of the messages, that so many of you are struggling with the same feelings.
I shared my truth for many reasons. To let you know that pictures don’t tell the whole story. That might make you feel more connected to me or make you feel like we aren’t similar at all. Either one is fine.
If you’re ever in a situation and having thoughts of suicide, please confide in someone. Whether it’s your spouse, family member, friend, or the person on the other end of the hotline number.. just do it. Reach out and tell someone. I’ll leave you with this.
Please stay alive
You’re not a burden
It’s okay to be struggling
It’s okay to tell people you’re struggling
Please stay alive
Please tell people you’re struggling
Don’t suffer in silence
It’s okay to need help
Please stay live
Please get yourself help
The world is more beautiful because you’re in it
You’re worth it
Please stay alive
You’re a good person
Thank you for existing
You’re not a burden
Please stay alive
People love you
I love you
Don’t give up
Please stay alive
If you’re ever in a situation where someone confides in you about thoughts of suicide as I did with Michael, please get them help. This is bigger than them. It’s bigger than you. Recognize that and use your resources.
