Yes, yes, it really can happen to anyone. It has to me. While I have never seriously attempted suicide, even I have thought of it…twice. And planned it once. That may shock some of my friends…but that is good. It is important that we all recognize how deadly serious and real this issue is. So today I will share my personal story with you.
It was September 16th, 2009. I had gone to the hospital a few days before because I thought was 12 weeks pregnant and had begun spotting. I did not think it was anything serious at first. The exact same thing had happened with PanKwake.
But the look on the doctor’s face when she did the ultra sound said it all. Missed miscarriage was the term. In other words…my baby stopped growing…died. Probably before I ever even knew I was pregnant. But my body refused to move on…held tightly to hope…futile though it was.
The next few days were a blur. More ultrasounds…with a very pregnant doctor this time. Oh, that one HURT.
Going to my GP surgery to see a male doctor from a very patriarchal society. English was not his first language so I left with the impression that he was going to have me involuntarily committed and remove me from PanKwake who was the only reason I was staying alive. I walked out of the office and when the kind receptionist asked if everything was ok, I screamed…No, I have a dead baby inside of me. I went home and huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth, and bawling my eyes out.
That night I could not sleep. I spent half of the night looking at forum posts of women like me who had been misdiagnosed…who went on to have healthy babies. And the rest of the night…I goggled how to kill myself. I found out that swallowing even the whole bottle of PanKwake’s anti-seizure med would not kill me. I knew about Tylenol/paracetamol, but that can be a nasty way to go…and I am chicken of pain.
In the end, I had been collecting/hoarding old glass jars (I still do…lol). I started throwing them on the kitchen floor and breaking them. Partly because the release just felt good. But also I was working up to slitting my wrists.
PanKwake’s dad came screaming down the stairs. Yelling at me about not waking her. It was nasty. Very nasty. And in that moment, I knew. I knew that I could not leave her alone in this world.
The next two years were HELL. Depression. Anxiety. Panic attacks. Domestic issues. It was a very long, long, long way back.
But never…not once…did I consider suicide again. For one reason only…PanKwake.
Yes…but as I said…twice. My friends may be even more shocked to know…I considered it just weeks ago. Not in an imminent sort of way. I still have a PanKwake to care for…now more so than ever…I realize just how much she needs me. And as wonderful as Cookie Monster is with her…it would not be the same.
But I was in so much pain then. Some days I could barely get out of bed. Then only to care for PanKwake. I could not clean the home that Cookie had given us. Some days I could not even cook for him. Even PanKwake could recognize how hard it was for me. She took to apologizing when she did have to call me.
And there were no answers from NHS. Just long, long, long waiting lists. I was doing EVERYTHING I could to help myself. Even giving up meat…I am still a forced pescatarian. The pain itself clouded my thought processes. It must when it is constant…day in and out for weeks.
I thought then…this is no way to live. I knew that I had probably a decade of this before PanKwake could care for herself. But I began to plan then. When she finally could…what was the point?
That pain let up…for a while. But I know it will be back. I am beginning to feel it once again. Not to that level. Not yet. And I know that when it does I will find the strength as I always have to go on for as long as she needs me to.
But I also know…just how dark things can get. How hopeless. How pointless life can seem.
I don’t want your pity. This is not to get words of encouragement. I am strong. I always have been…and always will be…no matter what happens in the end.
What it is to do and say is…
You NEVER know what people are facing. What is going on inside of them. And no matter what…we all need the same thing…
UNDERSTANDING and ACCEPTANCE!!!
Depression…Anxiety…Suicide…those are not about someone being WEAK. But sometimes there are mountains in life that are just bigger than all your strength. Few of us could climb Snowdia. Let alone Everest.
It is really as simple as…
STOP JUDGING PEOPLE!!!
Don’t get me wrong…people need help…support…services. Suicide is final. But it is equally important that we address the stigma attached to this taboo subject. That we stop pretending and recognize…
It truly is something that can happen to any of us…if we are pushed far enough. All of us having our breaking points.
Yes, me too.