My Dance with Death

If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I'd be writing this blog post right now, I would have told you no. If you'd asked me two weeks ago if I'd be listening to the sounds of my husband snore and my two-year-old suck her pacifier, I would have asked you how. If you asked me two weeks ago where is be at this exact moment, I would have told you nowhere. Two weeks ago I was finishing some messages, I was crying, I was contemplating walking out the door of my house with lots of sharp objects and my car keys. Two weeks ago tonight I had every intention of committing suicide.

A lot has happened in the course of two weeks, though. Lives can change in the blink of an eye...and mine certainly did. I faced some hard truths and even harder talks. There was a call to 911 and 6 hours in the ER. There was an ice cream date where my best friend had to tell my husband all the things I'd been holding back. There was a fight. There was heartache. There were purchases and uses of razor blades on my arm. There were therapy sessions. There was the terrible, painful, overwhelming fear that my best friend had finally decided she was done trying to help. There were more suicide plans. There were very pushy, honest, anxiety building talks of what needed to be done for my safety. There were tears. There was a full on panic attack. There was one last beverage with my best friend while we drove to the hospital. Then I said the words that made writing this today possible: "I'd like to voluntarily admit myself for inpatient psychiatric treatment."

I'll probably write another post about all of the details of my 4 nights & 4 days in the Affective Disorders Unit (aka the mood disorder wing) of Trustpoint Hospital, but for now I want to specifically go over how that stay has already started to heal me. I don't even know if I can explain the level of self hatred, guilt, and shame I was feeling before walking into that unit. I had convinced myself that everyone would be better in the aftermath of my death, that I was ruining the lives of so many people by existing, that I was like a poison that was slowly killing those that I loved by continuing to live. I had decided the best things were to start closing off, to stop doing anything, to only occupy my mind with death. And every step of the way, it was all there: that early teenage girl who was called names, laughed at, told to be quiet and let his hands work, that the lies (that weren't lies) needed to stop; that college freshman shaking in her ensemble audition being asked, "Did you look at this at all? Can't you even read music? Why the HELL are you even at this University getting a degree?!"; that mother, waking up to the sight of blood, knowing fully what it was and feeling the worst heartache yet. And all the other memories of myself being vulnerable, beaten down, alone...all of the versions of me that I wanted to take my razor blades and kill...all present and accounted for as usual.

Tonight I have one word: forgiveness. It's time to forgive myself. It's time to release. I forgave Nathan, so why not forgive me? I have long forgotten about all those who bullied me, so why not forget those years all together? If I visit my alma mater and the all powerful Dr. Thomas says hello to me, I grin and say hello back, so why not forgive myself for that anxiety attack at my first time doing something that meaningful to me? I still love having sex with my husband and don't blame his sperm for losing Rosilyn, so why should I continue to blame my body? One of the goals I set for myself while in the hospital was to think about what I need to forgive myself for and write it down. These are only a few of the things my mind wandered into while thinking of when all of this really manifested. It's going to take time and it's going to be more than a little tough, but someday I'm going to forgive myself for it all.

Another goal I set was to try to list positive things about myself. As irony would have it, during one of the group sessions that day we did a sheet about ourselves and trying to build self-esteem. I mentioned my hair, my smile, and my desire to make everyone feel better/to help everyone. I also said that I'm not afraid to wear things that make me stand out. I mentioned that I'd give it all and sacrifice my life to protect my family and my innermost circle of friends. I mentioned lots of things that I see in the people I surround myself with that I call great people...so why was I never seeing them in myself? That's got to start happening! I do have good inside of me, it's time I tell myself that!

Tonight I'm thankful for so much. The most important thing though is that I'm thankful to be alive. My friends and my husband gave me the biggest push of my life...but in the end I was the one who took that final step to save myself. I was terrified, I was hesitant, I wasn't even sure it was the right choice...but I was the one that did it. I was the one that walked in and said, "I'd like to voluntarily admit myself for inpatient psychiatric treatment." And because of me, I am alive.