The next morning was a Monday. It was a fairly normal day. Three kids ready for school. Lunches packed, dressed, breakfast, teeth, hair, backpacks ready. My husband and I took our youngest to a routine doctors appointment before we dropped her off for school and he went off to work. I work from home so I finally started getting myself in order. At least I tried to, but once the house was quiet and empty and I was there alone with nothing but my racing thoughts and self loathing, things started spiraling downward.
I remember wandering around the house, mentally wondering what it would be like when I wasn’t there anymore. I wandered through like a zombie. I’m sure somewhere on the cloud there’s security camera footage of me walking down the hall, past my daughter’s room, looking at the pictures of our happy family. I cried thinking about them growing up without a mom but I knew they’d be okay… better actually if they didn’t have ole Momma Eeyore moping about. I just stood in each room, taking in what I now knew to be my final moments alive.
I know there’s a conversation that people have about suicide, mainly from people who have never felt that level of desperation and darkness. It goes something like “selfishness” and “how could you do that to your family… to your kids?”. Honestly, in those dark moments, when I feel totally alone and inherently worthless, I also feel like more of a liability than an asset to everyone in my life. My mind tells me, in no uncertain terms, that everyone would absolutely be better off without me. There is no doubt. See, when your brain isn’t functioning properly due to depression (which I have been diagnosed with), postpartum depression, anxiety (which I now know that I have), post traumatic stress disorder, premenstrual dysphoric disorder (which is also what I have been diagnosed with) or any other mental illness, there is little one can do to convince this sick brain, in those moments, that it’s human host is better alive. It’s like a runaway train with no conductor onboard… with a fried control panel to top it all off.
I’d been given a prescription that I hadn’t yet started prior to this incident. I didn’t start it because A. I really didn’t want to be on pharmaceuticals in the first place but my doctor gave no other solutions, and B. I was going to be traveling and didn’t want to start new medication in case of side effects (ya know, like runny stools, constipation, blurry vision, heart attack, hand numbness, vaginal air biscuits… etc, etc).
I sat on my bed to write to my family so they’d know that this was not their fault, this was all me and I took 100% responsibility. I sat and cried while I wrote it. I don’t remember exactly what else it said and I haven’t seen it since (the police took it as evidence I’m told), but I remember that it was pretty short, considering all of the things that I wanted to say. Choosing your final words is hard because you know that it will stick with your loved ones for the rest of their lives. It’s a lot of pressure, as ridiculous as that sounds. Pressure added to an already overloaded mind. I finished it and almost felt a sense of relief that the struggle and pain were finally coming to an end. I wasn’t afraid or uncertain at all.
I grabbed the full bottle of pills and then Googled what would happen in case of an overdose. I remember, as with every other fucking thing on the internet, there was varying information but it looked like my dosage was high enough that I’d go to sleep, my organs would fail and I would not wake up. I grabbed my water bottle and took a few. Then a few more. Then small handfuls until they were gone. The fact that I chose an overdose as my preferred method of exit and took the pills with plain-ass water, is somewhat ironic. I don’t even take Tylenol for headaches, or Nyquil for colds. The only time I’d drink water is if I was super hot and sweating like a whore in church, otherwise, gimme the carbonated sugar and caffeine, please.
Once the pills were gone and I could hardly keep my eyes open, I called 9-1-1 to tell them that I was an organ donor. That was it. I wanted to leave this world as I’d hoped I lived in it, helping someone else’s life get a little better. I’ve always been hyper-considerate, maybe to a fault, which was maybe the reason the regard for my own life at this point, was just in the toilet.
I’m an organ donor on my drivers license but I had the foresight to think that it would be hours before anyone found my body. I wouldn’t show up to pick the kids up from school. My husband would be called and he works an hour from our home so he’d likely send the police to check on me and likely, by then, it’d be too late to use most of my organs.
Fucked up, right?
The pills started to take effect. It was like my body was asleep but my mind was awake. Like when you have those weird, lucid dreams that you’d swear were real. This was like the reverse. I heard things but I felt totally asleep. I don’t remember a lot about what happened after that, even things that I should remember. I don’t know if that’s a side effect of the pills that I took or my mind’s way of protecting me from details that are too scary to recall.
I remember hearing things. The police beating on the windows, breaking glass, beating down the door, trying to wake me up to talk to me. I heard them talking about what I took and the date on my pill bottle. I guess they were trying to calculate how much I may have taken. I remember the paramedic trying to talk to me in the ambulance. I only recall bits of what she said. I tried to open my eyes but they were like lead.The rest is a blur of what I’m not sure are memories or dreams.
Heaving my bitter tasting guts out into a plastic bag, that’s how I remember waking up. My husband was holding it next to my bed in the emergency room…
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-About The Author-
A bit about me for you curious ones:
First and foremost, I’m a mom and have been my entire freaking adult life.
My husband and I have 5 kids in our blended family and we live in Charlotte-ish North Carolina. I love the mountains and the beach so it’s perfect.
I started my online business in 2009 and tried to fit into a little box of elevator speeches and niches and “5 secrets to blah, blah, blah” for yeeeeeears. And shit just didn’t work out for me the way I wanted.
I learned loads about business, especially the online variety, but I got sick of trying to squeeze my ass into other peoples’ little boxes (that sounded more sexual than I intended… but I don’t regret it). So I gave it the double bird and ripped that box apart, piece by piece.
I embraced all of the parts of me that I loved and those that made me happy despite what other people thought. I combined them into this fun, fabulous place that you’re cruisin’ right now.
It’s me… 123%.
Are you still reading about lil ole’ me?
Jesus, stalker… Holy moly… um… okay- here’s more:
Personally, here are 23 fun facts about me that you may find interesting or entertaining or awkward… whatevs:
- I was painfully shy throughout school until about the 8th grade and still sometimes (er, all of the time) have social anxiety around big crowds of people
- I have a fear of spiders and creepy crawlies but will save them versus kill them if possible
- I love to paint old, nasty things and turn them into beautiful works of art
- I have few close friends by design
- I donate to organizations for women, children and animals
- The ‘documentaries‘ section of Netflix is my favorite
- I’ve been divorced twice
- I’m a super picky vegetarian and am striving to become vegan one day
- My dream car is a classic Mustang. She will be mine.
- I have family in Alaska, California, Arkansas, Kansas, North Dakota and Arizona
- If I could live anywhere, it would be on a beach
- I am spiritually “woo-woo” If I had to pick a religion I’d be a Wiccan
- I was born in Alaska
- I was raised in 6 different cities in Northern California and at age 13, we moved to Arkansas. Likely where my humor comes from because making jokes is my way of saying “hi”.
- My favorite song is ‘Brown Eyed Girl‘- obviously
- 23 is my lucky number. I see it everywhere
- I love hot chocolate (dairy free, of course)
- My favorite animal is a dolphin because they’re rad as shit
- I moved 1000 miles away from everything and everyone I knew in 2008 for a dude (who is now my husband)
- I’m a recovering people pleaser
- I HATE working out– if you see me running, someone is chasing me or the ice cream truck is near
- I have never eaten in a restaurant alone (brings back memories of middle school nerdiness).
- My favorite color is purple but most of my closet is black, white and grey
So there, not we’re BFF’s so come on over to the Facebook Page and give er’ a like and share with friends