The depression weighed heavy on my chest, panic setting in and I wasn’t able to breathe. I held the razor tight in my right hand as it slipped over and over and over across the flesh of my left forearm and wrist. Blood drip-dripping onto the bandage already laid out.
Fog in my brain covering everything, every positive emotion and separating me from God. The words of those who cared bouncing off of me like I had a force field around me that only accepted negativity and bounced away love.
Trapped in my own head. Blaming myself for the miscarriages and a billion other things. Feeling worthless enough to write in my own blood, scrawled across the wall, “God won’t even take me back”. Part of me knew that this suicide attempt wasn’t going to be successful. I knew God wasn’t taking me home. I was enraged at Him. I remember saying “if this is eternal life than I don’t want it!!”
I took rat poison, sleeping pills, medication to prevent nausea and chased it all with a bottle of rye. I meant business. I really wanted to die.
I needed the pain to end and that was the only thing I could focus on. The ONLY THING.
I remember my mom’s words echoing in my head when they found me “am I that bad of a mother…?” No mom, you aren’t…. I am just in that much pain inside and I don’t know how to let it out. I am scared to live, afraid to die and living in a world where the only constant is hurt. I didn’t know how to tell her that though. I didn’t know how to tell myself that either.
A few weeks later I sat there, in my own hell. All I remember is a nurse, Trevor, holding me down and sedating me. I was told the next day that I was ripping my hair out claiming bugs were in me and that I was a murderer for my lost babies.
The Lord of Life is My Shepherd
It was then that I finally got real help. Life began to turn up from there. Medications help, I sought out God and somewhere along the way through therapies and friendship I managed to realize that I was going to be okay –even when I feel anything but. The pain still comes, it overwhelms but it passes and I can be happy the next day. I pull near to God, I still take my meds. I pray that I never fall into that pit again.
I know a lot of people have had suicide attempts or lost someone from suicide. It is NOT your fault. It is NOT their fault either. You cannot rationalize with an irrational and sick mind. People who hurt deep down are experts at hiding that pain and wearing a smile bright, cracking jokes and laughing. We are chameleons who blend right in, and then when we are alone the darkness creeps in.
My family has a long history of suicides, on both sides, and I know firsthand the damage it does to the survivors and how it feels to be the one teetering on the edge. I had no intention of writing about this tonight, but it’s what flowed out. The fall is the time of year in which I have had all of my miscarriages so it is easy for me to get down. I am not depressed or suicidal right now, only thinking back on years past and praising the Lord for the medications and the therapists who have helped me overcome those rough years of my life. Without Him, I wouldn’t be. Had He answered my prayer and called me Home my children wouldn’t have a mother and my mother wouldn’t have a daughter.
If you feel depressed or down or have had these thoughts seek help, you may feel broken, but there is glue to put you back together again! God has this, God has YOU!