This is the second part of my series telling you about my night in the hospital. If you haven`t read my first instalment you can over here.
If you are reading this post first, then please note that it is surrounding suicide, and suicidal thoughts. Please don`t continue reading if these are triggers for you.
We were putting the groceries in the car. I was looking forward to the nice warm bath I wanted to have. My body ached so badly. Everything hurt. But, my husband was home now, so it would all be okay. I kept telling myself that. Over and over.
`Are you Natasha? We need to speak to you please.` And panic set in. Two big RCMP vehicles were parked near our car with two separate officers. One officer to talk to my husband, and one to talk to me. I already knew what it was about. I remember walking to the vehicle and looking around wondering what would happen if I made a run for it. Where could I run to and hide?
He cleaned up the front seat for me to sit, and then proceeded to get in as well.
Tears were filling up in my eyes at this point and my body was shaking. My kids had screamed as I walked away towards the RCMP vehicle and I just wanted to get back to them. I could see them in the back window looking around trying to find me. I knew they were crying. My heart hurt.
The texting crisis line notified emergency services, and now there I was sitting in a massive vehicle in my small town where everyone knows everyone at the only grocery mart in town.
He tried to talk with me. He was very kind, I`ll give him that. I was just not in a space where I needed kindness. I begged him to let me go home. I wanted a warm bath. I promised I was okay. That I wasn`t having any suicidal thoughts.
I remember thinking that it looked like I had convinced him. I won. He told me that he was going to go talk with his partner and come back.
I had tried talking him into just letting me go home. I was fixed now that my husband was home, and everything was okay. I believed it right to my core, so imagine my shock when he came back into the vehicle and said,
I`m so sorry Natasha but you have to go to the hospital.
My choice was either they take me, or my husband take me. Everything from that moment on was out of my control. My husband had arranged with the other officer that he would take me. He had arranged care for our children in those few short moments, and had to give the officer the name of the hospital that he was taking me to.
When I got back into the car, my kids were sobbing uncontrollably, and I was furious.
I had assumed though, that we would just go home, and this would just be a crappy moment, but life goes on. When we got home, my husband unloaded the car, and that was when I found out that we were actually going to the hospital. I felt so much anger and betrayal. It felt like he was on their side, and I was on my own.
Sitting in the car sobbing and sobbing, I contemplated running away. I could hide somewhere in town, maybe in a ditch, rather than going to the hospital. I thought about leaving, and finding a way to never return. In my head, everyone was against me, and I no longer had a space here.
My husband returned to the car quickly with my wallet and purse, and just like that we were off taking the kids to where they were going. I begged him repeatedly to please stop, to please let me go home, and I promised I would never think bad things ever again. I promised him I would try harder, and I would work harder.
In my head, I had caused all of this. I was wasting everyone`s time.
There were people with REAL problems that needed help, and that did not include me whatsoever. I stared out my window in disbelief that my husband wouldn`t listen to me. I kept thinking how much I wish I would have just succeeded and gone through with the suicide. I wished I didn`t reach out for help. I felt I now had disappointed every single person in my life, and how was I ever going to come back from it. I wasn`t.
My husband was kind, supportive, calm, and loving. He reassured me it was all going to be okay, and that it wasn`t my fault. I felt so much anger inside of me. I wanted to open the door of the moving car and jump out. I wanted to escape.
The sky was so dark that night.
Or, maybe I just noticed it more that night. The stars didn`t twinkle, and the wonders, and the depths of the sky seemed to be in a bit of a lull. It was as if time stopped, and I was floating through. I remember wondering if it was all real. Like, maybe it was just a really bad dream.
My eyes didn`t stop shedding tears the entire ride. I felt broken and worthless. As we got closer and closer to the hospital I found myself wishing more and more that I had just taken all the pills. If I had succeeded, I certainly would not be going through this humiliating experience.
By the time we got to the hospital, I was broken into more pieces than one could even count, but yet I could still walk.
The looks I got in the emergency room made me feel so worthless. There was clearly nothing wrong with me. Though, there was, because I was ordered to go the hospital, and later found out that the RCMP would be contacting the hospital to ensure I went and was seen by a doctor. If I didn`t go, they would be coming back to make me. It would have been them sitting with me in the waiting room, had it not been for my husband who made the plan to take me himself. He promised he would stay with me, and that he`d make sure I was seen.
My husband checked me in. I had no words at that point. I sunk into a chair and tried to ignore the burning stares, as if everyone was trying to guess what was wrong with me. My husband answered all questions, and I sat there lifeless. I wanted to escape. I was so worried about my kids. So worried about what they thought of the whole situation, and how was I ever going to fix all this.
We sat there for hours. I begged and begged my husband to just take me home. I promised I would work harder. I promised I would do better. It was still at this point that I saw the entire situation as a fault of mine, rather than I needed, and deserved help.
I was unworthy, undeserving, and selfish.
We sat there hour upon hour as I shook, cried, and worried about our kids. When a nurse finally came to us and explained that I would be staying over night and they were just waiting for a room, I immediately sent my husband to get our kids. The most important thing to me was to make sure they heard the real story from one of us, and that they knew I was going to be okay. I felt a piece of calmness knowing that he was going to go pick them up.
They called my name finally. It was my turn. My turn for what exactly?