Today is not a good day. I want all of my friends to be aware. I cannot stop crying, the tears keep coming, and I feel embarrassed and stupid and I want to die.
I lay on the stairs in my ratty, purple bathrobe trying to hug my dog. I need someone to care, anyone. Through my tears I see dust and dog hair in the crevices and I realize this is the moment when people choose to end their lives. I realized I am like that dirt and dust, small and insignificant. I believe there is a song with the words “we are but a speck of dust within a galaxy.” This plays inside my head and I cry fresh tears realizing that no one is thinking about me as they go about their day. This is the moment I believe we want to die.
We all talk about mental illness and suicide like it’s simple enough to reach out. We post 1-800 numbers that are supposed to help if we feel sad. I am not in a place to call a 1-800 number. That is not the way it works. I am drowning today. I have no giving left in me. The dog pooped on the carpet again, the dog is barking to go out, my toilet is clogged, my children need me, my job needs me, people reach out to me with their problems, I’m tired of seeing snow and ice. Some of you know my husband has been gone in California. He tells me how great it is there and how much I’m going to love it, but all I can see around me is cold, and dirt, and needs. “I need to” starts every single day. That’s great California is lovely but that is not my reality.
So you ask, how can we help those in need? Your 1-800 numbers are not helpful. Posting memes about “checking in” are not helpful. You look like you are doing a big PSA, but where are you when I am contemplating the belts in my closet and realizing that I guess thank God nothing in this house will hold my weight because new homes are made of crappy, overpriced materials. Where are you when I cannot see the dust anymore because the tears won’t stop falling? You would come to my funeral and talk about how great I was, you’d ask the big question, “why?” I am telling you why. This is my PSA.
My children saw my raw, honest pain this morning. I tried to pick myself up off the stairs before they could see me like that, but I couldn’t do it. I hurt too much. I tried to make myself get up and pick up the dog poop, but I felt paralyzed. I prayed, not for God to make me stop feeling. I wanted to die because in heaven I will no longer feel this way. Believing in God doesn’t guarantee us a pain-free life. It doesn’t mean crappy things will never happen. I feel crappy, but I’m human and this really is our downfall. Moments of pain bring enlightenment.
Will I die today? No.
I made myself get up and get dressed. I made myself take my medication. I live with OCD and the terrible thoughts that come with it, but I wouldn’t say I’ve had active “mental illness” for quite some time. Sometimes it’s not about mental illness.
So you ask, how can you help? If my daughter hadn’t come to wrap her arms around me, I might be worse off right now. Love is powerful. This is what God tries to teach us but as humans we’re too wrapped up in self-pity and “why me” to love others.
Again you ask, how can you help?
Love. Love those around you, love those you call your friends and family.
You never know what a difference you make until you try.
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