September is Suicide Prevention Month. Suicide isn’t something we talk about. It’s one of those weird taboo subjects that everyone just seems to avoid. The only time people do seem to talk about it is when it’s too late.
Late fall of 2018 I started to take a downward dive. Things weren’t going exactly as planned in life, lots of things were up in the air, and I lacked direction in my life. I felt trapped in many situations, knowing I couldn’t change anything. I’m a goal-setter. Lacking direction in life and not having goals to work towards takes away a big part of me. Time progressed and decisions that needed to be made as an individual, couple, or family we talked about, prayed about, fasted about, for months and months and months. No answers. No changes There didn’t seem to be an end in sight. Just more questions and more stress built up over time to the point I felt I might explode.
I’ve always managed my stress well with intense exercise (usually running). I can literally feel tension and pressure building up inside me; whether emotional or physical I’m not sure. But I run it off. Relaxation doesn’t do it for me. I need hardcore physical activity to melt my stress away. I started managing stress this way when I was 12, so it’s become a life-long pattern and habit. During this time of intense stress and confusion I also started to experience intense knee pain, to the point, that in January 2019, I had to stop running completely. It was hard!! I tried everything from alternative exercise to rest and finally went to a doctor, who told me the only solution was to stop running. So I did. I took a month off. It was hard again. My stress relief was gone and I felt like a big part of me had died and that I may never get it back. My life was even more out of my control, and the stress and pressure continued to build.
I didn’t give up hope at that point. I had family coming into town and I was trying to get my knee better so I had things to look forward to and work towards. Two more months came and went. My knee pain persisted, but I could do a lot of walking (no running) without too much trouble and I was happy about that. My family came for the visit and I had an amazing time with them. I threw all my energy into them, forgot my everyday life entirely, and had a great stay-cation. And then….they left.
For some reason, I found myself in a place with no plans. Nothing coming up to look forward to. No goals I was working towards. Just myself and the endless unanswered questions, and no stress relief. I began to dwell on this more and more. I really didn’t have any goals. I had lived a good life and accomplished all my goals: grow up, get a college degree, get married, have some children, check, check, check. Heck, I had even run 4 marathons and traveled the world. Hmmm? Pursue my career, which I was, but it wasn’t bringing me the fulfillment I was hoping for and I was stuck in a position where I couldn’t change the situation of things I didn’t like. What else? Travel, see the world some more. I was doing that, and although it was great and exciting, it didn’t bring me a lot of the fulfillment I was seeking either. Vacationing is not my idea of “life” That was it. I didn’t see what else was left to pursue in life.
I began to think about the longevity of my family history. 3 of my 4 grandparents are still alive and in or approaching their 90’s. I was 36 years old with no more reason to live, let alone 50+ years of things to fill it with. Then my mind started going to darker and darker places. I had lost hope. I talk with my husband, other family members, and some friends about all my goals being fulfilled, and no one had any new plans I hadn’t considered, or new goals to pursue. My mind went even darker.
At the end of March, I was driving my car along a large hill and I had an image of driving my car off the edge. I didn’t, but I felt absolutely numb as I completed the drive to my destination, picked up my kids, and drove back home. I told my husband about the image and that it had scared me. Within the next two weeks, these images of ways to end my life were becoming the norm. March 30th we spent a lovely day as a family celebrating my son’s birthday weekend and my husband noticed I wasn’t being myself. I told him that my suicidal thoughts were all-encompassing that day and that I couldn’t stop the images, that I was scared, etc. He was noticeably upset, gave me what comfort and support he could, and went to bed that night at normal time. And I didn’t.
I have a tradition of making my kids a special cake of their choice for their birthday. I usually stay up way too late decorating the cake for a surprise first thing in the morning. Tonight, the night after I had been struggling with these images all day, was that night. I was to stay up late and make a cake. I thought about ending my life that night. My husband hadn’t taken me too seriously if he left me alone and went to bed, and it would just be easier than waiting. But I thought about my son. What an awful birthday present that would be! I decided for his sake, I would wait. I put on an audiobook to keep my mind from wandering and made the dinosaur cake. It wasn’t an easy time, but I got through.
The next day was Sunday and my son’s birthday. Although I wasn’t feeling 100%, I put on a good face and tried to celebrate my son. I was able to push aside a lot of the images and pain of the day before and just relax with my family. And then Monday came. My husband went to work. My kids went to school. And I was home alone with my remote job and my images. It was a nightmare of a day. I spent a lot of the day curled up on the couch, trying to work, but mostly crying and trying to keep living. I was scared, embarrassed, confused, every negative emotion you can think of.
At some point in that day, the thought came that although I couldn’t see a reason to live, I didn’t have a desire to die necessarily. This thought came and went while my darker thoughts still pushed their way in and I struggled to know what to choose. I started looking up articles on suicide prevention to see what I could do to not die. I wasn’t fully committed to it yet, but I at least wanted to explore the option of not dying and see if there was something I was missing. I decided to make an appointment with a local counselor. I made myself make the phone call, and I hate making phone calls. To my dismay, they only had walk-in hours the next day and I was devastated. I needed an appointment! I needed something I was committed to. I finally decided to make myself an “appointment”, so I told myself to go into the counselor’s office at 12:30 the next day after my work hours were completed. That was my appointment. It got me through that day. My family came home. It was a little rough, but I put on my best face again, and we had our evening.
Then Tuesday came. The morning started out okay, and I had my 12:30 appointment. Kids off to school. Starting to work…and then they started coming again. The images, the dark thoughts, the dark desires. I realized I couldn’t live another day like this. I couldn’t be alone. I let my husband know I was going to the counseling office as soon as they opened. I contacted a friend and let her know I was having a hard time and that I didn’t want to be alone and could I work from her house that day. I didn’t tell her what was going on or how bad it really was. Like everyone, she had plans but said I was welcome to use her house and she would be home when her appointments and errands were over. That was good enough. I had to get away, somewhere.
I went to the counseling office, which is right next to our grocery store and library. In a tender mercy from God, I saw several friends on my walk from the parking lot to the office and I put on my best smile and said “hi” as I walked by. I wanted to talk to them, any of them. I wanted to tell them I was in a really bad spot and I needed support. But I couldn’t. They had their little kids and their grocery shopping, and all their things going on and I didn’t want to burden them. I walked across the street and met another friend, who actually stopped to talk to me. She asked me how I was doing and I burst into tears and told her I was doing really bad and I was on my way to talk to a counselor. I didn’t tell her how bad it was either. I told her many of the things that were weighing heavy on my mind. The questions and confusion I had and she was just there and let me talk and listened. She told me to talk to her later after my session and we parted ways.
I slowly went up to the counseling center. I knew I had to do it. I had to try something before I just gave up. I went up to the reception desk. The lady casually asked me if I was having thoughts of hurting myself or others. More tears, as I responded “yes” to her nearly horrified face. I filled out the paperwork and went into my appointment.
The counselor was textbook. She asked the expected questions. Did I have a personal history of depression? Yes, but it was mostly manageable and infrequent. Did we have a family history of depression? Yes. Did I have a rough childhood? In many ways, no, but in some ways very much so. She also asked if I had a plan for my suicide. I told her, “no”, but I knew I was on my way to making one. She asked me to wait and live one more day. Come back for another appointment the next day, and just hold off, which I committed to doing.
On my way to my car, my friend was there again. I don’t know if she still had errands or if she was waiting for me, but either way, I was glad she was there. We went to the library while her little boy played and she let me talk some more. She also had no new ideas or solutions for me, but at that point, I didn’t really care. I just needed to not be alone. After talking with her for a while, I contacted my other friend that I was supposed to meet up with and let her know that I was doing okay and I went home. I was exhausted from talking and I knew I was safe for one more day.
In my counseling session the next day we discussed choices and that all of us have choices, no matter our situation, and that you can make your life into what you need it to be. She encouraged me to reconsider all my current situations and decisions and make sure that I wanted that as part of my life. It was eye-opening as I realized that most of the things in my life I did want and I was doing on purpose. There was still so much out of my control, but I was able to finally see the things that I already had some choice over and what I could do to gain more choices if I wanted. I wasn’t a victim in my own life. I could be a creator as this amazing tool describes (below). The first choice I wanted to make was about suicide. What was that the choice I wanted? When I honestly truly looked at it that way and realized I could choose, I decided I wanted to live. I found it! A new goal. It seemed like a silly one, but obviously important, my new goal was to keep living.
My journey since then hasn’t been an easy one. My suicidal thoughts went away within some intense weeks. Overcoming my situational depression took months. But I’ve made it. It’s history now. Here are some things I’ve learned from this experience…so many things.
1. Be educated: Be educated about depression, anxiety, and suicide. I was lucky enough to have been recently trained on the signs of suicide in a church leadership meeting. I recognized those signs in myself and took the steps I needed to get help. I was grateful for that training at the time but didn’t imagine I’d need it for myself.
2. Take it seriously: Take suicide cries for help seriously. I only told a few people at that intense moment: my husband, my parents, and the counselor what was really going on, and none of them took me very seriously. My husband was concerned but still maintained his normal schedule while encouraging me to see the counselor. My parents were supportive on the phone but didn’t call or text to check up on me that week as I expected they might. My counselor was supportive at the office, but then put 10 days between our next appointments because it was Spring Break. But I took me seriously! I had to. I didn’t want to sink any deeper. I didn’t want my suicidal thoughts to turn into a suicide attempt, or suicide itself.
3. Make and execute a safety plan: If you or a loved one are on the edge, make a plan to get help if needed. I didn’t use this worksheet below, but I had these things in mind those weeks and months of recovery. This (below) one also looks helpful. The first worksheet lists coping skills. I had known and used running as stress management, but that was gone. I had to find other things: Punching (kickbox style) and lots of walking became my exercise relief. I also found a lot of peace in music. My journey can actually be documented in these songs (below) as they spoke to me at different points in my mental, emotional, and spiritual journey. 1. When I was feeling lost and confused but was still trying, 2. When I was giving up and felt like I couldn’t go on but still had the smallest desire and knew I needed help. 3. When I decided “staying” was the best option and that there was hope for the future. 4. When I decided I don’t have to be in control and to trust that the Lord knows what he wants my life to be, even if I don’t. 6. When I realized that God had helped me climb my mountains and grow stronger through this trial. I also made people a lot bigger part of my life. A few others I told how bad things really were, some I told I was struggling, and others still I just sought a better friendship with. I wanted to surround myself with people so that if I started struggling again I had people to turn to. I love people anyway, but in my months of depression, I had isolated myself more and more from others. Not on purpose, and it was so gradual that I didn’t really notice until I was at a moment of crisis and I realized I didn’t have anyone but my husband that I really felt close enough to turn to, and that bothered me.
4. Those in need might not be those you expect: Those struggling might not be someone you expect. I’ve been a strong independent person most of my life. When I’ve struggled with depression, most of the time, I’ve struggled alone. I get out of bed each day, take care of myself, my home, my family, and often even others. I fulfill my responsibilities and keep my commitments. The person that’s struggling with depression or suicide might not be showing stereotypical signs. But, I did show signs. During those months leading up to my suicidal thoughts, I often told people I was having a hard time, that I wasn’t finding a lot of purpose in life, that I didn’t have any goals. I even told someone that I wouldn’t mind dying running if I could run again. I did show signs! This goes back to education. People didn’t know the signs, and very few people asked me why I was having a hard time, what was going on, if I was okay, etc. In May I attended a church meeting where we had a chance, if desired, to share a few thoughts. I went into not very many details but made it very clear that I was coming out of a really dark time and was grateful for the progress that I made and all the Lord had blessed me with. For some reason, that time, people noticed. I started getting messages, letters, calls, etc. from many people in my church group making sure I was okay. I felt a little embarrassed, but grateful. Mostly I was sad though. I told one friend that I felt like the fire-crew had arrived and started fighting after the fire was out. I was okay at that point! I was climbing out of the last of my depression and making great progress. I wanted to scream…where were you, people, when I needed you? Why didn’t anyone ask me why I was crying at church or talking about having a hard time month after month? Why didn’t anyone wonder when I posted songs about drowning? Where were you? Why didn’t you notice then? I am okay. I know that they love me and that I could have turned to them at that time and they would have been there for me. I know that my journey is my own and that my decision to stay was mine as well. In May though, I was just sad that the help I needed was not more easily accessible. None of us are super-heroes. We all need a support system and need to be aware of those around us, even, or sometimes especially, those that seem the strongest.
5. Life is worth living: My number one goal is still to live. I’m really not sure yet what life will hold for me. What I’m going to be doing for the next 50+ years, but I know I’m going to be doing it. I’ve made some changes big and small to life and I’m happier with life situations now, but it’s not perfect. There are still lots of questions, lots of unknowns, and lots of bends along the river ahead that I can’t see. But, I’m going to take that journey. I’m going to keep going forward each day, making the life that I want where I can, and trusting that life will be okay and God will take care of me when I don’t have control.
The last six months have not been all roses and sometimes there have been very hard days, but I’ve lived those days. I’ve been with my family and friends. I’ve had experiences, good and bad, and learned through it all. Live is worth it! I don’t know all the reason why, but I felt like I needed to write about my experience. I hope that I can help someone else. I hope those who are struggling know they are not alone. I am here if anyone needs support. I hope those who have loved ones who have struggled to know how much they are needed. How much their love and support means. How much of a difference they can make. And to those who have watched others lose their battles, don’t give up! You can still make a difference. You can celebrate their life. You can open your mouth and spread awareness of this issue. It’s a fight we all need to keep fighting because life is worth living and there is HOPE. My love and prayers go out to you.
