Tuesday July 23rd 2019; 9am
Wow what a crazy few days (weeks!?) I've had. For years I've tried to understand feelings of jealousy, especially towards my step children the past 3-4 years. Jason is always there for his kids, 100% of the time. He would do anything at any time for any one of them. I never knew why it was so hard. I mean... he's my husband! I love that family means so much to him. That's one of the first things I loved about him.
Yet every time those kids needed him, I felt abandoned, neglected, ignored, even invisible. I guess it added to my already screwed up mind and y feelings of worthlessness.
When we've had broken bones, sprains, surgeries, and hospital stays (which included family therapy I was excluded from) I've slowly sunk more and more into the darkest parts of my mind.
For a few months the darkness has been so thick. But I'm an expert at hiding things like that. Nobody really knew. Not my psychiatrist, or the three therapists. Not my family or friends. Not coworkers. I've struggled since my pregnancy with TJ and throughout it all, I've considered these three options:
- I've done this before. I'll figure it out on my own (like I always have)
- People don't even see it, and when I do express it, it's always downplayed by them or myself so I'm on my own with this.
- I'll just adjust my medication myself and get this resolved (by switching doctors and telling them different doses).
I've played through all of this, fighting my own demons and trying to find light on my own, or with my Heavenly Father.
The last 2 months, things have been really bad in my mind. I guess I just hoped to silence the negative thoughts by "toughing it out". Going through my daily actions and doing my best to keep it all buried while I prayed, studied scriptures with my family, attended church, kept up at work and (mostly) at home. I've done this countless times in my life! I can do it again!
As I write, my heart races, my head pounds, and I start bouncing my knees to keep from shaking as I write.
All the times I tell my family and friends to reach out when they need to, encourage people to lean on me or the Lord, and here I am! Strong and faithful on the outside, falling apart inside. But I deny that constantly! Because I am the "expert" and don't need others to know I'm not well.
On July 2nd I had some dental work done. A tooth pulled, a crown, and a filling. By Friday (the 5th) I knew the socket where my tooth had been pulled was not healing well. I went back to the dentist on the 9th to confirm it was a dry socket. I assumed I'd be sent home with an antibiotic and some more ibuprofen. But he offered me pain pills. I thought "oh, good. I'll have them on hand if I fell like hurting myself!"
That thought [though fleeting] got me really nervous. Afraid of those thoughts, I decided not to fill the prescription. Then, I got a urinary tract infection, which required an antibiotic. I also had refills of Lamictal [my mood stabilizer] and Cymbalta [my antidepressant] so I filled the prescription for Percocet, too. I don't feel like I needed it. I have a high pain tolerance. But I felt like it was my safety net to have those pills on hand.
On Tuesday July 16th, I had 3 appointments at 3 different places. Looking back, I see it was my "dry run" to see how things went when I was gone. That night, after the little ones were in bed, Karleah brought up 3 prescriptions from her room. One was for pain pills from her wisdom teeth surgery. I told her I would take them to the pharmacy for proper disposal.
Wednesday the 17th I was ready to take the hydrocodone and oxycodone prescriptions. Thew plan was to take them after work, in my car. People nap in their cars at work all the time so it wouldn't raise suspicion. Work wouldn't know because I'd be done with my shift, and my kids and parents wouldn't notice for a while because I had left work late so often lately. I left for work, started the car, and realized I had forgotten one of the pill bottles. When I ran back inside the house to get it, Jason was standing in front of the drawer the pills were in, brushing his teeth! I felt so many things in that instant. Relief, anger, disappointment, and more. Jason never gets up to brush his teeth at that time of the morning. I looked at my sweet husband, afraid he would see in my eyes the darkness I was holding inside. I told him I forgot what I came back for and left for work.
I knew Heavenly Father was protecting me. He sent angels to nudge Jason to get up! So I felt comfort, and resentment at the same time. Such intense emotions, so conflicting, impossible to handle, even harder to express.
After work, Jason text me some random message and I knew he was about to tell me something. When he sent a pic of himself at the ER with an EKG on, I was saddened. I think part of me was relieved I was there with the kids since he wasn't ready to take on all of it with me gone. I told him "the kids need their Papa. Get better!" But If I'm honest with myself, it was also... "they don't need Mom."
Thursday as I left work, ready to talk to Jason about my suicidal thoughts, he told me Anthonio had been in an accident so he had to go help him out. I responded with "OK. I'll hold all this inside for even longer." As I drove home, I cried, punched the steering wheel, and screamed "I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT! I SHOULD HAVE DONE IT!" Over and over again. I thought I might explode from the intensity of it all.
I was afraid of my feelings, but even more afraid to express them. I text two friends that I knew would understand the best. I still never let on to how dark I felt. Thursday evening, we took the kids to Burger King. A friend of mine was there and she entertained the kids while I told Jason little slivers of the truth. That night in bed, I lay on his chest and told him my plan. He asked if he should take the pills, and I said it might be a good idea. But he only knew about one bottle.
Friday, I felt giddy! I thought that by sharing my burden, I had been led out of the depths of my depression.... I was wrong. That joy was short-lived.
Saturday I went to lunch with my friend Tasha. I thought it would be nice to spent time with someone who dealt with similar emotions. It helped but not enough.
I posted something on a facebook group, my attempt at crying out. I finally accepted that I was not OK.
Quick backtrack..... on Wednesday Jason received a blessing before going in to see the cardiologist. I was afraid to ask for a blessing, despite the urging from Heavenly Father. I didn't want to explain to my parents why I needed a blessing.
During all this, I did try to reach out. I text my friends Tasha, Becky, and Lindsey for advice, but always avoided anything specific. I called a crisis line, but hung up in fear. I text a crisis line but when they asked for my name I disconnected. I made vague FB posts that I promptly deleted when a comment would hit close to home.
Saturday night as I lay in bed, Jason said he felt like I needed a blessing. He asked if we should wait til morning, but I knew we couldn't wait. That blessing may have saved my life.
In the blessing, I was told many times that angels were with me. They were calling my name! Angels on both sides! Originally I thought this meant "both sides of the veil". But now I know it's both sodes, meaning Satan's angels as well as Angels of the light of God.
Sunday, at about 2am, I woke up in a panic. I tried to calm myself. By 3:30 I had text a friend that had begged me to text anytime that night. I told her I felt like I should have been hospitalized. She told me to wake Jason and GO! I was too scared.
I lay there for hours, frozen by fear. The thought came to me that I had angels calling out to me, helping me. By 8am, I told Jason that I knew the angels were telling me to GO TO THE HOSPITAL, NOW!" He agreed.
Jason's phone rang right then. Lilly needed him. She either broke or sprained an ankle, and needed help to get to a doctor. I looked at Jason and told him to go. I was prepared to cry alone once more. To fight my demons alone. He said "don't you see? You have a "cover story" and I'm going to the hospital anyway!" I was relieved, and terrified.
Once I got the courage to walk to the ER (Jason stayed at urgent care with his daughter), I asked the person at the front desk "Is this where I go if I'm feeling suicidal?" she said it was, and I was placed on a stretcher in the hallway. I got to hear and see all kinds of things. But mostly, I fought my demons as I lay alone.
Finally, I was sent to The Receiving Center, to be "observed" for 23 hours and talk to some social workers. By the time I left there, I think I told my story to at least 10-15 people. And it only got worse
Monday July 22nd at noon I was admitted to the University Neuropsychiatric Institute (UNI). I never knew my mind could have so many racing thoughts, simultaneously. From old folk songs, to why my suicidal plan was stopped, to why I'm here and when I can go. Thoughts about my family, my kids, work, how friends will take the news, church! How can I ever go again?! How can I not?!
RACING, CONTINUOUS, SIMULTANEOUS AND CONFLICTING THOUGHTS!
My thoughts became more violent. I became afraid to go home. I talked to a team of doctors and social workers. I knew I was going to be there a while. My fingernails began digging at my wrist. My hospital band left a deep gash on my right hand and my fingernails left deep gashes on the left wrist.
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