Monday, January 30, 2012


Some random thoughts after my meltdown this weekend.

I think that those who have never dealt with suicidal ideations long term have no idea how it works. For crying out loud those who have had their own have no idea how it works for me. We are so individually different. For me, what I dealt with on Saturday is mostly my life. It comes and it goes. Saturday was just a particularly rough day, an end to a rough week, and I was spent. I also choose to blog about it when it was RAW and very UGLY. These are thoughts I live with. Sometimes they come every month, other times they only visit once every few months. Who knows? Certainly not me. I get these thoughts, meltdown and it is typically over within hours. Honestly, it sucks. It is something I know well. But the next day seems brighter, I am proud of myself for slaying the demons and I continue to live my life.

Help. Getting help. I seek help many ways and through many avenues. I don't feel the need to share that here or lay out my "schedule". That is not what this is about. This is therapy for me as much as I hope it helps someone else later. For goodness sakes, I hope it helps me later and it has in so MANY instances. While I appreciate your cries to "get help", and I truly mean that, I take issue with some comments that I need to seek help to find a "cure" or that I should've been "well" before I had my kids. That makes me physically ill. Why? I don't think I will ever escape this demon. I have survived these thoughts because I am here! That does not mean that I will never think them again. I don't believe therapy, counseling, medication, etc will ever make them fully go away. They are a part of me as much as my left arm. I can learn to deal with them and I have. I have a bag of tricks. Thankfully Saturday's version of that trick bag including spewing it onto the blogger screen in order to get it out of my head. Unfortunately for you, you had to witness the ugly.

There are several people I will have to look in the eye and know that they read that post. I will stuff the shame that offers me and know that I did it to escape the thoughts, to give them a voice. I will do my best to not feel anything but a flawed human when I meet them and hug their neck for the first time in a five short weeks. I will revel in their care for me and in their understanding of difficult lives. I know we will cry until we laugh and laugh until we cry and I cannot wait! (In two and half weeks I will sit with the best friend I have ever had and soak in her understanding and her love!)

Just because I am a master of keeping all this inside does not mean that I have in any way shorted my kids of a parent. I am there for my children. I am present. I am positive and I am kind and thoughtful. They have no idea of the storm raging in my head some days. There are only a few select people who know and understand a glimpse of that storm, and ONLY because I have shared it, not because they have witnessed anything. I am no different from you with the exception of ugly thoughts that creep in privately.

As for the fact that I should not have my children, you make me ill. My children are a gift from God. I adore my children more than myself. I do not have to be well to be a wonderful mother. I will no longer acknowledge those comments and they will be deleted. My children have saved me, you could not be farther off base.

To the person who is local. I am not sure if you are anonymous or not, Lord how I hope not. If you would, please let me know (privately) who you are so I can stop freaking out. I would really appreciate it.

Saturday, January 28, 2012


As soon as I posted what I did earlier this evening I considered deleting it. I should've never posted it.

I knew that the way I felt would subside. I would be reminded of my love for my children and my husband. I knew that my husband would ponder what had happened and come down and tell me that he understood and he loved me. I knew he would comfort me. I knew that I would be okay. I knew the thought of self harm was fleeting and I would be able to keep that at bay and let it pass.

What I needed to do for myself was document what I was feeling in that moment. Perhaps it would be to go back and understand how I felt so the next time wouldn't be so damn scary. Perhaps someone, somewhere would find it and know they are not crazy.

The comments by anonymous truly helped me see that I am not as fucked up as I think. The way anonymous viewed me through my own words is not what I know in my heart. I KNOW that my children were not affected by tonight. I KNOW my mother did not damage me! (good Lord, that one makes me laugh) If anonymous knew the relationship my mother and I have it is utterly laughable!

My first thought is to be ashamed. Ashamed that I let all that fall out of my mind and spill onto the page. Ashamed that I felt the way I did. Ashamed I admitted it to you and to myself. Ashamed that I did not let it pass in that bathroom and stuff it back down inside, telling myself that I am acting foolish.

This has been a difficult week. The fact that I am not willing to blog about a couple different incidents should tell you how bad it has been. I will not apologize for sharing what I did. It is me. All of me.

I considered blocking anonymous comments, but truly what would that do. Anyone can create a google account and post comments under that name. I could be Robert F Kennedy if I wanted to be. Just because I have a google account as Sojourner Truth doesn't tell you who I am. I welcome your comments. For the most part you have been respectful even if you have been misguided. You are welcome to your opinions. In fact, they make me feel better about my life because I am not nearly as jaded and accusatory as you . . . and that is saying something.

thanks, but no thanks

Let me explain something to you anonymous. I am very, very adept at hold things in. The entire time that I was having my own personal meltdown, my kids were completely oblivious. My daughter was napping, my younger son was playing his handheld game and my other son was watching television. I did not cry in front of them, I never raised my voice and I even made them dinner and finished some laundry. I hold EVERYTHING inside which is probably the problem.

While I am well aware that I put my shit out here for everyone to read and that opens me up for anonymous commenters to read my drivel and make their own observations. But you don't know me or my ability to parent my kids. You have no idea what happens in my home beyond what you assume from reading here.

Thanks for your kind words. I do understand where you are coming from, but I do not create or live in a toxic environment. I am an expert in making things appear perfect even when they are far from it. I learned it from my mother.

I am trying to be completely honest in this forum because it helps to get it out there. It helps to say what I cannot to anyone else in the world. (well, I can to one darling friend) It helps to say it instead of act on it. It is not for attention, it is so I can see where I have been and PERHAPS help someone else think they are not alone in feeling some of the same things.


A few minutes ago I sat in the upstairs bathroom and came as close as I have ever been to killing myself.

Trust me. The weight of that sentence is a hard one to write.

I didn't actually have anything in my hand, but I truly and calmly thought, "this is the day" or maybe "this is the hour". I started making a checklist in my head, making sure the laundry was fairly caught up and the sheets on the beds were clean. I thought about what would be the quietest way to leave this world. I wouldn't want to upset my kids of course. Then the irony of that sentence made me laugh. Crazy, cackling laughter that shocked me in the way that it made me sound completely and totally looney.

I came downstairs and informed my husband how very much I was aware that I was a fuck up. That I was a failure. How do I know this? Because I hate the look of myself in the mirror. I hate waking up and I hate coming home from work. I hate me more than anyone else ever could. I understand. I get it. The 28 weeks of constant pain, the stress of dealing with my FAS and RAD child. The financial melt-down that it our life . . . I just can't do it anymore. I hate everything about me. I despise the person I have become.

What brought all this on? Him getting mad at me about something I said. I get it. I suck. I am a horrid wife and a worse mother. I know, trust me I know. I get so frustrated with him not fol.lowing through and doing what he says he will do and I lost my cool. I made it worse. He told me "It is obvious you don't care." Oh hell, you have no idea how that set me off. I told him that if I didn't care I would've been dead a long time ago.

The only reason I have kept going is because I know my kids will be even more screwed up if I killed myself than I have already made them. I walked upstairs and thought long and hard about it. I really could've done it today. You know what has always held me back? Thinking that my God would not forgive me and I would go to hell. Why did that not stop me today? Because I am not sure it makes a difference anymore. I feel like such a bad person and a failure that I'm not sure I would go to heaven anyway, so what's the point?

So I came downstairs and poured my heart out to my husband and what did he say? What did he say that would make me feel like anything other than a failure? What did he say that would make me even remotely help me feel like I was loved? What did he say that made me think I could possibly be contemplating a mistake? Nothing. He said nothing. He looked at me in my eyes and I saw what seemed like cold indifference. He walked away, went upstairs and laid down in bed. I got nothing. See, I do suck. I don't even warrant a "honey, please don't feel like that." Nothing. And to top it all off, he left me with the kid who needs the supervision, yay for me.

So here I sit at my computer, crying a river of tears. My kids are playing upstairs completely oblivious to my pain thankfully. What is stopping me? Them. I have failed so much, but I can't turn that corner. I can't leave them with that legacy. I just can't.

Oh how I wish I could, but I can't.

Monday, January 23, 2012

in a bad place

I am in a bad place. I am in pain most of the time. I saw the new surgeon since my last post and he said that the bone fragment is not causing much issue. The issue is with a torn tendon that runs along the inside of my right ankle. It is damaged and very inflamed. Each step causes pain. I am back in a boot and an orthotic is being made. It is likely I will have to have tendon repair surgery in the near future. The constant pain wears on me.

I am also struggling emotionally. I am fretting over every little thing. I am not sure if it is a product of the pain, but I know it is not good. That old feeling of dread is creeping into everything I do or think. I find myself gritting my teeth or with my shoulders raised in stress multiple times a day for no real reason. It is all consuming.

I am critical and judgmental of both myself and others. I hate being in this place. I hate being this person. I wish I felt better physically, I know that would help. I feel trapped and I need to escape.