Writing

I wrote my struggles down. I caution all readers, this is not for the faint of heart. I am very real and open about how I feel and think.

8-9-09
Husband has been on vacation the past week. It came at the lowest point for me. As I was looking back on the situation, I realized that his break was literally a miracle for me. I know I would have been hospitalized for depression if he had not been here. It was a tender mercy of the Lord that I am able to sit at my computer and type while my family slumbers. A little over a week ago, I could see no way out. The depression just keeps coming back. I was sitting on my bed wondering how I could put an end to it. To be completely done with it and I just knew that the only way to be completely rid of it was to die. I calmly walked into my bathroom and took out the bottle of painkillers. I took 2 pills before I chickened out. I didn’t want my son to be the one to find me. I laid on my bed and fell asleep. He came home early that day, worried about me. I think it was for good reason.
I feel like a helpless baby bird. That anything can hurt my fragile state of being. I am afraid those feelings will come back and I will be too weak to ignore them, to weak to “chicken out”. I am scared to face those feelings again. Will they rear their ugly head when I am left to fend them off alone? I am worried I will be hanging on by my fingernails, but I just cut my nails today, so I might not be able to hang on very long. Depression, please don’t visit me this week. Please let me have peace, you are not welcome in my home. Do not get comfortable; do not knock on my door because I will not let you in.
8-10-09
I had a therapy session. My therapist is an older woman who is very quiet. Sometimes we just sit in silence for about 30 seconds. It’s hard for me to open up and she is content to just sit there with me. It’s interesting and sometimes uncomfortable. I feel obligated to fill the silence, but with what? This is a stranger can she be trusted? I am sure she can, but I haven’t decided if I want to trust her yet.
Husband went to work this afternoon. I felt emotions boiling up. I was worried I would spiral out of control. I called my mom and told her everything that was happening. She was speechless. She felt frustrated that she did not understand what I felt and was too far away to help. I told her that during this time, I was not capable of thinking logically or being realistic. I told her how even now, I feel no remorse for wanting to kill myself. Even staring in the face of my 14 month old, I felt no twinge of regret nor did I feel relief that I had not followed through. Does that mean I am still suicidal? Does that mean that at any moment, I will get the courage to do it? David took all the medication in our house. At first I was hurt and frustrated that he would not trust me, but why would he? Honestly, why would he trust a depressed, suicidal mother of two with a bottle of painkillers? He would be out of his mind to trust me because I don’t even trust myself. Those bottles call my name, they whisper of a life free from depression. Their sweet melody lures me in and tells me there is a way out. Maybe I need to buy some earplugs