Posted by Katrina Roets at 9:36 AM
Monday, December 21, 2015
I'm not going to get into a lot of details here because on some level, they just don't matter. What matters is the end result.
As most of you know, I deal with a multitude of mental issues every day...bipolar 2, ptsd, anxiety, ocd...and most of the time, I manage. This time, I didn't. In the midst of a depressive cycle, the man that I had fallen in love with decided that he wanted to pursue a relationship with someone else. It was too much. I've been fighting my own demons for months and I was emotionally exhausted. I had nothing left.
So, last Wednesday, while driving into town to do homework with the kids, my brain wouldn't stop ticking. It wouldn't stop thinking about everything and suddenly, I had this moment of clarity..the kind where everything seems to fall into place. I didn't want to live anymore. I wanted to die. This wasn't just one of those passing thoughts. It was as if a lightbulb had gone off in my head. There's no reason for me to be on this planet. I could die and life would go on for everyone else and it would be okay. Everyone had someone. They didn't need me.
I did homework with Ben. I tried to spend time with Roger. I tried not to cry. The one person who I had trusted more than anyone on this planet reached out to me and I told him. Even though just seeing his name caused me physical pain, I told him. He reached out to others who tried to contact me. I ignored them all. I didn't want to be talked out of this. The decision felt right.
When it was time to leave the school, I sat in my car saying goodbye to my children, to those that I love. I sat there crying for a while, the pain raw and consuming. Then, I started my car and headed out of town. As each car passed me, I prayed that it would hit me and I would die. I scouted places where if I drove my car off fast enough, it might roll or hit a tree or cause enough damage that I wouldn't live. As I got closer to home, a truck stopped a ways up in front of me and for a few moments, my foot didn't reach for the brake. I thought if I ran into him, it might kill me and I almost didn't hit the brake. In the end, I did...simply because I wanted to come home and finalize some things...then, the next night, I would do it. Some would say this was me looking for a way out, but it wasn't. I wanted to die. I just didn't want to leave more chaos behind me than was going to happen anyway.
In the end, I made it home alive and since I'm here writing this, you can guess I didn't go out the next day and off myself. Some tiny thing shifted and while every day has had its battles, I'm still here. Still, I'm tired and I'm fragile. Sometimes I'm living minute by minute, not day by day. Mantras that worked in the past are now contorted by what has happened. My brain changes you are loved to you are alone. The battle with myself is one of the hardest that I've fought.
Is there a moral to this story or even a point? If there is, I'd say that it's a simple one. Take care of those you love. Don't accept I'm fine as a response to how are you? Get details. Care enough to listen. Be there for one another and if nothing else, hold someone's hand so that they don't feel as if they're alone as they struggle simply to survive.
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