It was a Monday in September. SOmething was odd about the day. I woke up and went to the restroom, looked in the mirror and knew that I didn't want to go to work. I wasn't feeling well. I called my manager and let her know that I was sick and would be in the next day. Now, in September, my now ex-husband and I were fighting like cats and dogs. You have to understand the emotional state that I was in before I even woke up that morning.
I felt like it was all my fault. Like the divorce was because of me. He kept telling me if I had only changed, or if I had only done this or that then it never would have happened. He was miserable in the marriage. I wanted the divorce, I asked for it. It was my fault that he was hurting, that I was hurting. I have suffered from depression for a long time, but this was a new low. It was all I could do to get out of bed in the morning. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat. My self-esteem was at 0 and I hated me.
That was my frame of mind. I hated me. I couldn't stand me. After calling my manager I went back to bed. My bed is my sanctuary. If anything is wrong, I can go there and put the covers over my head and pretend it's really not happening. I received a call from my husband at the time and he was furious. I can't even tell you why. I do remember him telling me that I was broken and could not be fixed, and that it was my fault that he was miserable and how I didn't care. I got off the phone with him and something snapped.
Now I have tried to kill myself before, but there is always a moment of hesitation. I am holding a gun and think...Do I really want blood all over the place? Or I am driving down the road and I think I could just drive off that cliff and noone would miss me, but then I think....no I would probably just be paralyzed and stuck in a wheelchair or a bed witha feeding tube. I have researched drugs to kill me, of course I can't find any. Anyway, my point is, there was always a stopping point. Not today.
I hung up the phone and looked around. I got up, changed the sheets on my bed, without even thinking of consequences, grabbed every bottle of medicine I had, went to the kitchen grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels, wrote a note to my ex husband that read, you're right it is all my fault. I then proceeded to take so many pills of different kinds, I can't even tell you what they were or how many. I chased them down with Jack Daniels.
While I was still lucid, I ran a bath, went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife, just a short one but sharp. I hurt so bad emotionally, that physical pain meant nothing. I got into the bathtub and went to try to slit my wrist. Somewhere in there I passed out. I was hoping to drown. I didn't even think about the consequences, not one time. It was all one fluid movement. One step to the next.
One of my friends had a key to my apartment. SHe tried and tried to call me, but of course I never answered the phone. So for some reason, she ended up at my apartment. I remember her standing over me while I was in the bathtub yelling my name. I am not sure what happened from there. I know she got me dressed and to the hospital.
It was a blur, I was passing in and out of consciousness. I didn't know where I was or who I was probably. They kept me there that night and the next night, on suicide watch. I refused to eat, I cried the entire 2 days and gave the nursing staff one heck of a time. I didn't think I needed to be there. My doctor wouldn't let me go of my own free will so the wonderful State of SC admitted me to a mental hospital for 4 days. My friend that found me, stuck by me, my brother flew up here to make sure I was ok. I almost died and I didn't think anything of it except, Why in the heck did she have to find me!
Looking back now, I tear up when I see me moving flawlessly from motion to motion trying to take the very breath that God gave me. How egotistical of me to think that I am God and I can take my life, when it's not even mine. This is the life that God gave me. I dedicated it to him many years ago. I have often said that I am a cat with nine lives. God just won't let me go. There has to be a reason for that.
“The longer I live, the more I realize the impact of attitude on life. Attitude, to me, is more important than facts. It is more important than the past, the
education, the money, than circumstances, than failure, than successes, than
what other people think or say or do. It is more important than appearance,
giftedness or skill. It will make or break a company... a church... a home. The
remarkable thing is we have a choice everyday regarding the attitude we will
embrace for that day. We cannot change our past... we cannot change the fact
that people will act in a certain way. We cannot change the inevitable. The only
thing we can do is play on the one string we have, and that is our attitude. I
am convinced that life is 10% what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it.
And so it is with you... we are in charge of our Attitudes.” Charles Swindoll, author
He is right. Our attitude has everything to do with it. Mine was at rock bottom. But looking back, I had to go through it. I cannot change what happened on that September day or the days that followed, but I can move on. With the Lord on my side, I can do anything, including working on my attitude and trust me, he has done wonders!
Signing off for now. If you find yourself in a situation such as this, please get help. I was later told that the most selfish thing you can do is to take your own life, because you are taking yourself away from those that love you. You may not think anyone loves you ( I sure didn't), but trust me, someone depends on you to bring a smile to their face everyday. You are important and so am I! Jesus loves me and he loves you too. Be strong.
Tammy
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