TRIGGER WARNING: THIS IS ABOUT SUICIDE. Please do not read this if you are triggered by thoughts, plans, or anything regarding suicide.
It`s been one month for me.
One month since I`d completely lost control of everything and ended up in the hospital. One month that I wanted everything to stop. Permanently. I let go of control that day, and that night, and in two completely opposite ways. In the month that has passed, I`ve come to appreciate control and what it means in my life. This one night that I`m going to tell you about, has changed my perspective on my life.
December 20th. Five days before Christmas. I remember how guilty I felt. It felt like only an awful mother would be planning her suicide five days before Christmas. It brought me to such a deep and dark low. I felt worthless and like I was more of a hassle to people than anything.
I was sitting on the couch when I texted the suicide crisis line.
My kids were playing with Hot Wheels Cars. It was a Friday. It had been a hell of a week. I was struggling so much to hold it all together. By the time the days were finishing, I was definitely not all held together anymore. I had begun planning my death on the Wednesday. I called a crisis line and they weren`t very helpful. Getting passed off to 3 different people, and each time having to explain from the very beginning how I was feeling. It left me feeling even more frustrated and I felt stupid for calling.
My son was out of control.
He was on a rampage and there was glass flying throughout my house. His unexpected movements are a huge trigger for my ptsd and I struggle with him very much. This one particular Wednesday, I couldn`t fight with him anymore. I called 911 (emergency services). I`m still not sure what I expected from them, but they didn`t deliver anything anyways.
On the phone call, there could have been no doubt that I needed help. My 6 year old was taking care of my 2 year old and my 8 (almost 9 ) year old is completely out of control. They laughed at me. They flat out told me there isn`t anything they can do.
If no one can help me, and this is just what life has become, then I don`t want to live it anymore.
I remember thinking that. I had given it all I could. My face was tear-stained and I felt like a constant failure to all my children. I worried constantly about what each of them thought of me, but everything was spiraling so fast, I could not make anything stop. It was out of my control.
The Crisis Line called my husband and requested he go home, which he was anyways. I remember, by the time he got home, my body hurt. My mind hurt. Every piece of me, hurt. I wanted to sleep, but the kind of sleep where you don`t wake up. Ever.
Thursday morning my husband stayed home to help get the kids to school.
I knew I was safe as long as he was home. He knew how low I was feeling and wouldn`t leave me alone for very long. I fumbled through Thursday and Friday morning, and that brings us to Friday evening. Back to me sitting on the couch with my kids playing hot wheels cars. I was frozen on the couch. Knowing full well if I moved, it was going to be to go to my medication cupboard. I was done.
I texted the suicide crisis line in hopes of help. Though, I can see now, that what they did WAS help, it didn`t feel like it. I ended the texting conversation out of frustration and my husband got home from work at 6pm. We left for our town grocery store right away. We all went, simply because it wasn`t a good idea to leave me alone.
From Wednesday to those moments on Friday I had taken to relieving everything by cutting.
I hid a razor in my room and would sit in my walk-in closet and cut more and more until I was blinded by the burning of my skin rather than the pressures of being a mom, and trying to figure out how to help my son. In being genuine and honest I`ll admit, I was done wanting to even help at this point. Anger doesn`t give the whole picture of how I felt. I wanted out. I showed my husband when he got home from work, and he took me into a firm hug. My wrist to nearly my inner elbow all swollen and bleeding.
We got groceries, and it was all snowy and icy outside. It was cold.
I was looking forward to going home. I wanted a nice warm bubble bath. We got to our car, and two police suv`s pull up, officers get out, and walk towards us.
`Are you Natasha? Come with us please. We need to talk to you.`
Stay tuned. . . The second part will be coming shortly.