Everything I wish people could understand about suicide summarized in one quote posted by my new friend Katelyn: “They didn’t want to leave; they just didn’t know how to stay.” I wish beyond anything that people could understand that. Nothing has ever hit so close to home as reading that quote.
I want to share a story, one that would have been too painful to share just a week ago before working through this in EMDR. Please use caution in reading this if you are struggling. I don’t want it to bring any unnecessary pain to anyone who is already suffering.
The night before I was admitted to the psych unit for the third time this fall, I spent an excruciatingly long, lonely night in the ER. I cannot really begin to explain the level of pain I experienced that dark night. I will suffice it to say that I was in so much emotional pain that it was beyond anything that is possible to put into words or to comprehend. I truly felt that no one could help me anymore and that the only way I could feel peace again was to die. I felt beyond any sort of hope, but at the same time, I knew that I had two beautiful children and a loving husband who needed me. So I was torn. Torn between two very painful worlds, a world of suffering and heartache and a world of peace but separation from my family who I loved so much. I knew my family would be devastated to lose me. I knew it would cause them so much pain, but I could not see any other option. I couldn’t keep living in such terrible pain. I was completely conflicted.
That night, I hardcore grieved for my family. I pictured their devastated faces finding out that I was gone and hurt so terribly at the thought that our lives had come to the point. I prayed that there could be some other option that could open up for me so that I didn’t have to be torn between these two worlds and could have happiness and peace with my family here again.
For some reason that I don’t really remember, I opened up my phone and started looking at pictures. I saw a video I had taken of my son just a few days prior of him dancing during the credits of a movie. I started to ugly cry, gasping for air between bitter sobs. I couldn’t miss all of these little moments. I couldn’t bear to watch my family grow from the sidelines. But I couldn’t keep going through such pain either. I wanted so terribly to find a way to be okay again, while feeling that it was really completely out of reach.
Looking back on that night, it was painful, but sacred, a night spent with God, openly sharing my pain and fears and begging for just the slightest bit of hope. Little did I know what God had in store for me in just a couple of days by sending me Charlotte. I picture now Him hurting so terribly with me that night, while trying to whisper to me, “I’m listening. Hold on just a little longer. The answers to all of your prayers is coming. You will be okay again. You will live a happy life with your family again. It’s coming. I promise it’s coming.” And it did come, all because of Charlotte, my forever angel and answer to my most heartfelt prayers.
This Christmas, I feel the deep pain of what could have been. The pain at the possibility of my family spending this Christmas without me, my husband trying to figure out how to provide for our two kids and how to comfort them and how to give them the happy Christmas they would have desperately needed. But instead, I get to be here with them. I get to experience the real healing that can only come through Jesus Christ. It will likely take several more weeks for my hormones to completely balance out, as well as several months of counseling to overcome the trauma of what I experienced, but I am here and my prayers truly are still being answered. I don’t have to contemplate leaving or staying anymore. My dark night is over, and I am slowly finding my peace again.
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