My recent struggle with my mental illness
Two days before thanksgiving I wanted to die. The feelings had been bubbling at the surface for a while but I kept trying to suppress them. Finally, I broke after spending hours trying to get my two children to sleep. I was a slobbering mess. I thought I was a failure. No one else had to fight to get my children to sleep like I do. I kissed them goodnight told them I was ok and I loved them. Once they were asleep, I went on the search for any pill that would allow me to overdose. When that proved futile, I started rummaging for any sharp object I could find. I had a plan and had written my kids my final goodbyes. I tried reaching out to my dad, hoping that he could offer me some solace. All he did was make it worse and I started cutting myself while I was on the phone with him. I told him I wanted to die and that my children would be better off without me. His response was that I should sign the kids over to him if that was really how I felt.
However, none of the blades I found were sharp enough to allow me to get the good cut just to end it all. Then my husband calls and I tell him the same thing that I want to die and I am going to kill myself and all he did was argue about our roommate’s husband. Ignoring that I was telling him I no longer had any reason to live. We hung up mad at each other. I continued to search for anything that would allow me to die. I finally had to give up. I even thought about drowning myself in the tub but I had nothing to sedate me to stop by body from fighting back.
I finally fell asleep exhausted from trying and crying. The next day everyone acted like nothing had happened. No one wanted to talk about the night before. I buried my desire to die realizing that the only people that would miss me where my children.
Two weeks later at my son’s monthly CMO meeting, I snapped. They asked me about my mental health and I rated it a three which for them makes it a crisis. They kept trying to get me to make it a two but I couldn’t and I finally snapped showing them my wrist and telling them that they were lucky that I was alive. They then realized the gravity of the situation. They informed me that they would have to notify dyfs. They suggested that I get in front of it and go get evaluated. But I knew that once I started talking they would commit me. No way would any professional would let me go home. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. My husband was worried that no one would be able to help with the kids and he didn’t think he would get approved for Family Medical leave and he couldn’t afford to lose his job. He thought that we could arrange outpatient services.
I felt like everyone was talking at me instead of to me. It was like I wasn’t even in the room. I finally agreed to go get evaluated. They agreed that they couldn’t let me go home since I had a plan and I couldn’t promise my safety. I agreed to commit myself so I wouldn’t lose my children.
I spent 9 days in the hospital. I had to learn that I needed medication in order to be better. That my brain is wired differently. I also learned that I had been living with an undiagnosed condition called Borderline Personality Disorder alongside with my Bipolar and my anxiety.
During this time my husband became my biggest supporter. He realized just how serious things really were. He has been there for me during one of my darkest moments. Things haven’t been easy since I have been home. My medications have been changed and I am struggling to readjust to life outside. The stability and consistency that the hospital provided were just what I needed. I am having to learn how to be around my children again. I am struggling to feel connected to them. I am struggling to find an outpatient program that not only fits my needs but works well with my family life. My husband is now faced with how can he return to work if I can’t handle the children.
One thing I can say now looking back is if I had just been more open and honest, things would have never spiraled out of control. If I had just not been ashamed of my own mental illness, then I wouldn’t have had to suffer in silence. Every life matters even my own.
I am not completely changed nor do I pretend to be but I do know that I am finally on the right medications for me. My mood has stabilized and I am learning how to be vocal about how I am feeling. I have been undecided about how to approach this topic but I felt like if I didn’t talk about it, then I wasn’t being honest to myself.
I hope that by sharing my story that it may be able to save someone’s life.
My recent struggle with my mental illness