Sunday.
Toni called and we talked on the phone for a bit. Well, she talked, I half listened. I was already gone. I already knew that I could not be here any more, that I was done, that I couldn't do any more. My brain was gone, my heart was broken, and I knew that I was no longer needed. I knew it would be the very last time I would ever hear her voice. I remember being sad about it, but resolved to knowing that this was best for her. She would be happier without me. I remembering saying, "okay" a lot to what she was saying, but I completely disagreed to what it was and knew it didn't really matter.
I put the boys to bed, tucked them in, prayed for them as we did every night, and kissed their little lips. I stayed back just a little while longer than I did most nights. I remember being sad, but I knew that this was the best thing for them. They would be happier without me.
I fussed at my 14 year old daughter once more, trying to get her into bed. Her bed time was 10 pm, but it always seemed like it was 10:30 before she would be in bed. I prayed for her and kissed her and told her good night.
I honestly do not remember what I did then. I think I took a shower, but I don't remember actually doing it. I know that I wrote a letter to Toni, one to my 18 year old son, one to my daughter, one to the little boys and maybe one to my family. I don't remember what I said in any of them. I remember sitting in my bed and looking around my bedroom. I remember feeling some sadness. I got up and went and kissed the boys again. I laid down in my daughters bed with her and held her. I cried. I prayed for her. I was sad for her. She was the only one that I really worried about. I knew that this was the best thing for her, and I felt like she would be happier without me. But I knew that she would be the one that would suffer the most. I walked around her bed and kissed her on the cheek and I told her how very much I loved her.
I was no longer scared. I was no longer in pain. I was no longer trying to find the walls of the hole I was in and reaching for something to grab onto. I was in the dark. With no emotions what-so-ever, I went into my bathroom and opened my medicine cabinet. I took a whole bottle of benedryl, most of the bottle of ibuprofen, and an awful lot of Xanax. I don't even remember the numbers any more. I looked at the person standing there in the mirror. I didn't even know who I was looking at.
I laid on my back in my bed. I closed my eyes and slipped further into the dark....
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
2012
2012 was a rough year for me. I was having trouble everywhere I turned.... with my children, in my relationship, with my job. Nothing seemed to be going the way I thought it should or the way I wanted it to go. Some things from my childhood reared it's ugly head too, and a lot of insecurities came up, lots of fear. I think I really lost myself, trying to cope with everything and try to hold onto who I was. I started to realize that everyone around me did not see me for who I thought I was. I went to my doctor and was put on Paxil. I started having panic attacks. They put me on Xanax, but I couldn't take them because they knocked me out. I stopped sleeping. I started having a hard time focusing. I didn't want to be at work. I didn't want to be at home. I didn't want to be anywhere else. I wanted everyone to want me and need me, but I wanted everyone to leave me alone. Over a 9 month period it just kept getting worse and worse. I'm not one to air my dirty laundry, but I will say that I had a ton of things going on in my life. A lot of my spiral downwards had to do with situational stuff. My every day life, my reality, sucked. But I was having emotions come out of me that I didn't understand. Normally well equipped to handle stress, I started losing control of myself, of my emotions. I am a good mom. My kids are my world. I would jump in front of a moving vehicle to save them. I would stand up to anyone if I felt they were being mistreated. All of that started changing towards the end of August of 2012. I just didn't care any more. I felt like they all hated me and didn't want me, my love or my parenting. I could feel my desire to get up in the mornings slipping away. My desire to listen to the fighting was gone, my desire to be a part of anything they were doing, my desire to even let them love on me was just slowly going away. I started having flashbacks of my childhood. The little girl that was abandoned by her parents when her Daddy died when she was 5 was inside of me, lashing out, begging everyone to stay, angry as hell because the people that were supposed to stay wouldn't, and the adult Jill just felt like she was dying. It all felt crazy, it was hard to talk about in counseling, it was hard to explain to the people closest that needed to understand it. By September 15th, who I was, was gone. I was existing in this body, trying to hold onto my relationship, to my children, to myself. I had zero self-esteem. I felt worthless. I felt like nobody wanted me, and they certainly didn't need me. I am a pretty sensible person. I can see a situation from all angles, I see the big picture. I wanted to die. But I knew what that would do to my children and to my family. That night, on September 15th, I took a whole bottle of Ibuprofen and went and layed down. I'm not sure what I thought it was going to do to me, but after about an hour I wondered what the hell was wrong with me and I went and made myself throw up. It scared me. I told one of my friends but promised her I was okay and wouldn't do it again. The next month was just more of the same, with me falling more and more into the dark. But October 19th, I was felt like the darkness had swallowed me up. I could see no light. I went to therapy that day and was honest with her and told her I was suicidal. She asked me questions to determine if I needed to be admitted to a hospital, but I promised her that I was okay and I would NEVER do that to my children. She gave me her personal phone number and I promised I would call or text her if I felt like I wanted to hurt myself. I didn't really see myself as suicidal. I just knew it was really dark and very scary and lonely. I knew I no longer wanted to live this life, but never thought I would do anything about it.
The darkness is just that.... dark. Imagine being out in the middle of a forest and you fall into a deep dark hole. The hole is big, and you can't get out of this side of it. You yell for help and no one comes. You beg someone to pull you out and either you aren't yelling loudly enough or maybe they are just too far away and they just don't hear you. You figure out a way to climb out and you start climbing. You can hear the people you love, but they seem so far away. You fall back into the hole, but you fall a little harder and a little further away and realize you've fallen further into the hole. You panic and start yelling for help. You pull yourself back up and start climbing out again. You can hear your family and want to fight to save yourself, so you try hard. Then the voices of those that are supposed to be there sound like they are walking away. You are tired. You fall back into the hole. It is so dark. You panic. You are scared. It is dark but you know that you are dirty. You feel yucky, you feel alone, and you can feel yourself losing hope. You decide that no one is going to come and help you, so you turn around and try to figure out how to get out on your own. You start walking towards the other side of the hole and you hear the voices of your children getting further and further away. You fall deeper into this hole. You can no longer hear voices. There is no light. You still want out though so when you find a wall, you start pulling yourself up. You pull and you pull. Then your mind comes alive and you start telling yourself, "wait, they left me here!", "they don't want you", "they don't care", "if you were worth anything, you wouldn't be where you are". You start giving up. You are so tired and you don't feel like it will matter if you pull yourself out of this hole or not. You are in the middle of a dark forest and no one is waiting for you. So you let go of the root you are holding onto so desperately and you give up. You throw yourself back down into the darkness, you curl up into a ball and just wait to die. You welcome that last breath, when you won't have to fight so hard, when you won't have to feel the pain, when you won't feel worthless and like no one is waiting for you once you get up out of this dark and nasty hole. The dark.
In 9 months, my whole life changed. The Jill that I was in January was not the same Jill I was in October. I had lost my Jill. I saw no light. I saw no hope. I felt no happiness. I had fallen into the dark. I was lost, I was lonely, I was tired, I felt like I had no worth. I had gone from being terrified and so angry to feeling nothing. I did feel pain, but it wasn't the gut wrenching pain anymore, it was more of an acknowledgement that the pain had been there and would never leave. I opened my eyes and the room was light, but it was so dark. I knew that I was no longer "here". It's not something I sat and thought about, but looking back I know that I knew that I was no longer "Jill". Something dark had taken over and I had no idea how to fix it. Nor did I care.
The darkness is just that.... dark. Imagine being out in the middle of a forest and you fall into a deep dark hole. The hole is big, and you can't get out of this side of it. You yell for help and no one comes. You beg someone to pull you out and either you aren't yelling loudly enough or maybe they are just too far away and they just don't hear you. You figure out a way to climb out and you start climbing. You can hear the people you love, but they seem so far away. You fall back into the hole, but you fall a little harder and a little further away and realize you've fallen further into the hole. You panic and start yelling for help. You pull yourself back up and start climbing out again. You can hear your family and want to fight to save yourself, so you try hard. Then the voices of those that are supposed to be there sound like they are walking away. You are tired. You fall back into the hole. It is so dark. You panic. You are scared. It is dark but you know that you are dirty. You feel yucky, you feel alone, and you can feel yourself losing hope. You decide that no one is going to come and help you, so you turn around and try to figure out how to get out on your own. You start walking towards the other side of the hole and you hear the voices of your children getting further and further away. You fall deeper into this hole. You can no longer hear voices. There is no light. You still want out though so when you find a wall, you start pulling yourself up. You pull and you pull. Then your mind comes alive and you start telling yourself, "wait, they left me here!", "they don't want you", "they don't care", "if you were worth anything, you wouldn't be where you are". You start giving up. You are so tired and you don't feel like it will matter if you pull yourself out of this hole or not. You are in the middle of a dark forest and no one is waiting for you. So you let go of the root you are holding onto so desperately and you give up. You throw yourself back down into the darkness, you curl up into a ball and just wait to die. You welcome that last breath, when you won't have to fight so hard, when you won't have to feel the pain, when you won't feel worthless and like no one is waiting for you once you get up out of this dark and nasty hole. The dark.
In 9 months, my whole life changed. The Jill that I was in January was not the same Jill I was in October. I had lost my Jill. I saw no light. I saw no hope. I felt no happiness. I had fallen into the dark. I was lost, I was lonely, I was tired, I felt like I had no worth. I had gone from being terrified and so angry to feeling nothing. I did feel pain, but it wasn't the gut wrenching pain anymore, it was more of an acknowledgement that the pain had been there and would never leave. I opened my eyes and the room was light, but it was so dark. I knew that I was no longer "here". It's not something I sat and thought about, but looking back I know that I knew that I was no longer "Jill". Something dark had taken over and I had no idea how to fix it. Nor did I care.
About Me
Who am I? I've been asking myself that question for 39 years. The easy answer is this: I am the mother to six children, two of them step-sons, two biological and two adopted. I am married to my partner of 7 1/2 years, Toni. I am very spiritual, I know that without God I am nothing. I am the daughter of Lanny and Jan, sister to Jeannie and James.
But that's not really WHO I am, that is more what I am. I feel that I know who I am, but sometimes that gets cloudy in my own head. I have fought depression my whole life. Sometimes I think I'm a pretty amazing person, strong, courageous, kind, considerate, compassionate, ready to take on the world. Other times all of that is squashed down and I feel weak, afraid, withdrawn, worthless. I know that I'm not those things, that is not "who Jill is". But when depression takes over you get lost in your own mind. It makes you feel crazy really, like you are two people fighting over "you". I hope to not only be able to figure out who I am in this blog, but to also help anyone out there who is struggling with the same thing.
But that's not really WHO I am, that is more what I am. I feel that I know who I am, but sometimes that gets cloudy in my own head. I have fought depression my whole life. Sometimes I think I'm a pretty amazing person, strong, courageous, kind, considerate, compassionate, ready to take on the world. Other times all of that is squashed down and I feel weak, afraid, withdrawn, worthless. I know that I'm not those things, that is not "who Jill is". But when depression takes over you get lost in your own mind. It makes you feel crazy really, like you are two people fighting over "you". I hope to not only be able to figure out who I am in this blog, but to also help anyone out there who is struggling with the same thing.
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