A year ago, you laid in a hospital bed. Unaware of your birthday, unaware of your surroundings, unaware of all you almost lost.
I know you were struggling that day. The weight of the world sat on your chest and you simply couldn't breath any longer. The days and weeks and months of emotional torture finally hit their peak. I know how weak you felt. I am sorry that I wasn't stronger for you. I am sorry that I allowed the emptiness and wholeness to swallow you up that day.
There are many times over the course of the last year that I try to pin point the moment you went from cracked to shattered. The day started like any other. You were getting used to your new normal.
I know you were struggling that morning as you tried to maintain your composure after the events of the weekend. All the lies and mind games and abuse finally came to light. Your worst fears were confirmed true. Even with all that, Sunday you were coping- you were surviving. The same as you did everyday. F&$& them and their bullshit. Monday, you kissed your kids goodbye and wished them a good day at school. Were you intending for it to be the last kiss?
When you arrived at work that day, I know it was hard to take another blow of an immature colleague tearing you down once again. They knew all your struggles and used this against you to try to discredit you. Talk about kicking a man while they are down. Was this the breaking point? It couldn't be because you held your head high and went about your day. The same way you did every time they threw their daggers.
Then the texts started. You realized despite the events of the weekend not only were the lies going to continue, they were going to try and bury you along with them. Blow after blow! This was your new normal, why were these hitting you so hard?
I was with you as you headed towards the classroom to tell your co-worker you just had to leave. I was whispering to you to breath, just breath. I tried so hard to get your heart to slow down as you manged to make it to the car. I reminded you over and over to calm down but the pain in your chest continued to grow. "It's OK, you got this" I screamed at you. Slow down! Please just slow down!
Why did you need to hear more of the lies? Why was that so important to you? This person who was supposed to protect you with every ounce of their being was baiting you, they were no longer the person you knew. Turn around! Go home! Just breath!
I've tried so hard to remember exactly what those messages said. Perhaps there was something specific that triggered you. For the life of me, I cannot remember. I remember telling you something wasn't right. The Xanax wasn't working. Why wasn't it working? Your chest felt like it was sinking in. No, don't take another one. It's not going to help.
I remember being with you when you realized what you had done. You took too many. I begged you to call 9-1-1. It was an accident and it would be OK. I debated with you as you said "Well, this will get used against me there is no turning back now and took another". I told you it would be OK. When your body grew cold and shaky, I was trying so hard to warm you. As your vision grew blurry and your phone was ringing over and over and over again- I begged for you to answer. I remembering telling you it will all be OK. You are better than this! You deserve better than this!
I wept as I read that e-mail you wrote. You thought it was over and there was no turning back so you said your peace. Every ounce of your pain, put into words. I wish I could have erased that pain as easily as that e-mail. I could feel your pain in every. single. word. One by one the images of your beautiful children crossed my mind. You kept saying they deserved a stronger mother. There must have been something wrong with you for you to be discarded and beaten down over and over and over again. You said this is how it was meant to be because you reached out for help so many times and here you stood- alone and scared.
As you went in and out of awareness, I was begging you to stop talking. The lies continued over and over and over. Just stop talking, this isn't helping. He is not helping. Hang up! Hang up now!
Every time you came back to, I thanked God you were still with me, even though you wondered why. Our last moments together that day, I watched as you seized uncontrollably. I watched as the doctors cut off our favorite shirt and jeans. You were so proud of finally fitting into that outfit. Your last words were asking the doctors for him. Guess what my dear, he wasn't there. He wasn't coming. Then it all went black.
Two days later, I saw the happy birthday sign on the white board. Was it your birthday already? No- that doesn't make sense. Your birthday was on the 9th, the board says the 11th. Then it hit me, you were out for three whole days. But you made it. Thank God- YOU MADE IT!
I know you questioned why several times since that day. Look at all you would have missed. You would have missed your children growing and thriving. Where would they be today without you? You have been their constant. You have been their sole care taker. You have been their strength when their world continued to crash. You are one strong mother!
If your light went out that day, you wouldn't have been around to light the way for your niece. In her darkest hours, it was your light that shined through. The days and months and weeks are hard, but together you guys survive it as an unstoppable team.
Think of all the joy and happiness you would have never found again. A year ago you thought it was impossible to smile and laugh, but look at you today- the laughter is booming from your house. You have found yourself again! You fought your demons and now you help others take on theirs. When everyone said it would get better-guess what - it did! It does! It will continue to.
You were right, they did try and bury you. But you, my darling, you are a seed!
Happy birthday, you freaking survivor!!
If you or someone you love is struggling. Help is available. You are not alone. If you need help right away please call 800-273-TALK (8255) The National Suicide Hotline.