At this point a year ago, I was living at my parents' house with my two kids all crammed into a single bedroom with them sleeping on a futon and I on a twin mattress on the floor (don't ask me why we were all in 1 room..... my parents' have a 4 bedroom house with a basement...... maybe they just wanted to be close to me). My Ex was still in our house because I was the one who decided to separate, even though he still begged and begged me to come home, and the kids wanted to be with me (I didn't ask or force them to come). I'd also taken a leave of absence from my job and was trying to figure out what to do next about that. Basically all I did was sleep..... all I could do was sleep. Then on the 15th of July, I hit terribly rock bottom........
I don't even know if I can talk about this..... but here it goes:
The Ex and I were supposed to be going to a movie at the State Museum that evening, but we went to have a few beers beforehand. He lured me into an "open and honest" discussion, which I went along with...... Big. Mistake. We never made it to the movie, but instead I was verbally beat down and berated all the way home to the point where I was delerious from the sobbing and wished he would just let me out right there on the freeway. Calling me every name in the book, telling me I was pathetic..... I can't even remember it all, but I just remember how it FELT. And it felt awful because part of me actually believed it. I did feel like a terribly awful, selfish person who was lost and confused. The harder I cried, the worse his insults got. When I dropped him off at his car, the last thing he said to me was "Why don't you just go home and kill yourself?" and gave me one of his awful gloating laughs. And so I went home and did just that.
Ok, so obviously I did not die. I'm still very much here amongst the land of the living. I woke up in the hospital the next day feeling God awful. I had a bunch of texts and calls from friends worried sick about me (even though the first call I woke up to was from the person who probably--and justifiably-- hates me most in this world, because The Ex was so kind enough to call and leave a message about the wonderful news of my impending death BEFORE he bothered calling the paramedics. Loverly. I'm sure she was sorely disappointed to hear my very much alive voice......) and my parents were there, and The Ex was there and I just wanted to scream at him to get the fuck out. I ended up having to stay in an in-patient treatment hospital for a week, which was probably the worst week of my entire life. Rock bottom, loved ones..... hard, cold, unforgiving rock bottom.
I'm sure 99.9% of people wouldn't have the cajones to talk about this. But this is REAL. Suicide is very real and very, very serious, and not something to be pushed to the corner and swept under the rug (Attorneys have the highest rate of depression and suicide of any profession, so it's not just me here). I felt so low that not only did I no longer value my own life, but I felt that my children would be better off without me in their lives (and not only that, I did that ish on a payday AND it was the first check where my raise kicked in.... who does that??). That is a terrible, dark place to be, and I wouldn't wish that on my mortal enemies. But I can't talk about my Adventures in Divorce without addressing this life-altering event. I'm a true believer that everything, good and bad, happens for a reason. In my emotional recovery process over the following 6 weeks, I became a new person, a stronger person, a more resiliant person. “Sometimes God calms the storm, sometimes He calms the sailor.” My personal storm was nowhere near over, but I can say this experience helped me weather the storm a helluva lot better, and has made me a much calmer person (it takes a whole helluva lot to phase me now). And it has allowed me to appreciate just how far I've come in the past year, and be thankful that I made it to 30.
*And now, my PSA: Suicide is a permenant solution to a temporary problem. PLEASE keep that in mind, no matter how terribly awfully bad life seems. It is never true that your friends and loved ones will be better off without you. If you find yourself having those thoughts, call someone..... anyone. And get help. There's no shame in getting help for depression, just as there's no shame in going to see a cardiologist for your heart or an oncologist for cancer. Please don't go through what I went through. It is never that bad.
2 comments:
Sis, its Angelique, I'm so glad you shared your testimony. Indeed, mental health is a serious issue, especially in OUR community and so many want to wish it away or say just go "pray" about it, with no action behind it. Which is why, like you, I share my story with others just to give some hope and encouragement because so many are suffering. It makes me feel all vulnerable to tell the whole world your inner most thoughts, feelings and experiences, but we are helping others in the process and that is what is most important to me.
You are a gift to this world, don't ever forget it. We are all in this together. Love and Light sis!
I generally don't like to talk about this because it brings me back from an awful place (I've only ever told one other person) but I tried suicide my freshman year of college. It was the result of months of what I now know was basically a systematic and deliberate attempt to break my spirit (the nasty verbal abuse ever). I hate that I did that and glad that I was unsuccessful. One thing it did do was made me realize that I could never be in that place again. Never.
Anyway, it's funny, in April (when my LBF found out about the Heartbreaker, things got super bad, and I remember being scared, that I'd be facing what I faced freshman year in college. Like literally I was terrified. But then, I woke up the next morning and I realized I aint scared of his ass. There is nothing he could ever do to push me over the edge like that again.
As trite as this sounds, there was a part of me that died that day...the part that would just give up...gone. So thats a good thing.
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