To go from being the girl that gained energy and happiness from getting aquainted with a room full of strangers to silently staring at a wall in the darkness all day is my definition of a 180.
Not able to normalize or order my thoughts for long enough to form a statement to inject into conversation…um, yea… that was kinda sorta terrifying.
Drifting in and out, not sure if awake or asleep and afraid to be around others, even family. That kinda freaked me out, too.
Every activity was draining. It felt like I had run a marathon with bricks attached to my nikes when I challenged myself to walk from our upstairs bedroom to the main floor living room. Exhausting.
You would think that Michael Myers was hiding in my shower because I barely bathed.
Even though my closet is filled with fun outfits and accessories, I lived in sweats. It was tragic and I pitied myself but the only thing I could do was show up at therapy once a week and cry and not complete the assignments and homework that would get me out of this.
When I was unable to speak, it was generally for 2 reasons. Some days, the only thoughts that entered my head were of needing a drink of water or using the restroom; primal human needs. Other days, my thoughts were racing at the speed of light in all directions; compass and speedometer going wild.
It used to be about making sure we had school paperwork filled out, were we signed up for dance class, did I pick up toilet paper and eggs at Target, I need to call friend a or b, a thousand work tasks that I need to remember to get done, new marketing ideas, wondering why I wasn’t good enough, why my marriage was falling apart, why my dog keeps peeing on our rugs. I could go on forever.
During my breakdown, my brain was at a standstill or would race with thoughts of who I had been and who I wanted to be. All of the situations I’d been in, the shame of how I had reacted and how I’d wish I had reacted. I couldn’t silence them when I tried. I tried meditation and relaxation techniques, took sleeping pills, nothing could silence the noise.
For most of my life, I felt that I had the answers, believed that people could look to me to see an example of becoming successful after overcoming the challenges of growing up in a broken home. I was so wrong. I was delusional.
For me to see things clearly, I had to travel into the pits of hell and slay demons with a heavy A$$ sword. I had to stare at that wall for a couple of months while sorting through memories and thoughts that were covered in dust and I hadn’t seen for years.
I truly believe that this Summer happened because I needed to come out on the other side of the darkness but going through it was the most difficult challenge I’ve had in my 30+ years. Yea, I know, I’m still young. After this battle, I feel like Yoda, though. I earned a lot of gray hairs from this one. Even my hair stylist wanted to know what the heck had happened.
From August 3rd, 2013 until September 30th, 2013, I was decaying fruit. I was begging to be tossed in the trash or thrown out for the birds.
I was formulating a plan to rid the world of my decay. The moment that I began to search for my Life Insurance policy info, it registered how bad things had really become.
That night, I knelt at my bedside to pray. That night, I battled to let go of my life one way or another. For the Lord to take me out of this madness. I was ready to move on.
I knew how selfish the decision to take my own life was. I had to turn this over to Him. If You are there, Lord… this is it. Show me before I leave this life. I don’t know what you can show me, but I’m done. Throwing in the towel. Show me something, please. I am begging for the end. The end of a chapter or the end of my story. Before my daughter is motherless and my poor widower of a husband has to explain that to her. Explain to her that I was in too much pain to go on. I was not strong enough to take it. I didn’t love them enough to try. Ouch. This was such a horse pill to swallow. My most vulnerable moment. My darkest hour.
Please, show me that You are here. Please let me live, Lord.
On my knees, I fought to give Him my life, one way or another.