Archive for February, 2011

February 28, 2011

Part 3 I had a plan

I had a plan.

I took a cocktail of meds that would numb the pain.  Not the pain of life but the pain of death.  I waited for awhile to make sure they were working.

I had a plan.

I took Maddie (my dog) outside and I  fell.  I did not feel it.  That was good.  It took me a moment to get back to my feet.  I left her outside so she would be safe.

I had a plan.

I went to the bathroom and found the blades.  I began to cut in the bend of my arm.  Deep.  I laid on my bed and the smoke made me cough.

I had a plan.

February 15, 2011

Part 2 Hopeless

I believe it is human nature to want immediate results.  I wanted to be normal, healed or even if not healed – just to be OK!  But you cannot heal a lifetime of hurt in a year.  I realize that now.  But at the time the thought of one more day just made me feel hopeless.

Remember normal?  A person’s normal is not necessarily a good thing, especially when your normal is insanity.  But what happens when the insanity starts to change, to become sane?  Nothing feels normal.  And until you become comfortable with sanity your life feels strange.  The hard part is recognizing sanity when you have never seen it.

Mike and I were fighting constantly.  Mike had become more dysfunctional by the day.   And Jake had started having behavior problems.  I felt like a failure. The two most important people in my life seemed to be fighting me.  Almost like they did not want me to get better.   Or at least that is how I felt.

The truth was they both were reacting.  Reacting to the changes in their lives.  Reacting to the changes in my life.

It seemed just as I started making progress, getting off of my meds and leaving the house, all hell was breaking loose inside my home.  The one place I had felt completely safe.

I was so sad.  I had such high hopes.  I really thought if I worked hard to get better everything would be OK.  We all would be OK.  We were all in individual therapy.  We were all doing the right thing to get on track.

But the train derailed!

So I sent Jake to school one day and asked Mike when he would be home from work.  He said about 2.  That was good, he would be home before Jake.





February 14, 2011

Part 1 God

I had started working myself off of my meds.  But I had not made much progress in leaving home!  Sinead encouraged me to leave the house on “safe” trips.  I would go to the grocery store at first, but only if Mike drove and of course went with me.  Later, and as a part of my recovery, I started going to church.  I figured it would be safe and Mike (who drove) and Jake went with me so it was a family affair.  I went to several different churches close to home.

I read the bible and studied.  I tried to understand.  To feel God.  I even started praying.

From church to church I went…

But I never felt God.  The best way I can explain it is it would be as if someone who was blind was being told what they should be seeing.  As if they weren’t blind.  I have now come to realize that I was not born with a faith gene.  It is not that I do not want to believe in God (I have desperately tried), but there is nothing there.

After months and  much effort I felt like a failure.  Like something was so wrong with me – that God hated me.  So many people had faith, where I had none.

One night (it was on a Friday and Jake was at his Dad’s) Mike left (we were having arguments constantly), only days before I attempted suicide, and out of complete desperation and in a manic rage I got into my car and drove!  I drove all the way to Shepherd, TX.  Why you ask?  That is where Phil and Sherry lived, the Pentecostal preacher and his wife I had known since I was a child.  I went to their church and found them.  They took me out to dinner and that night I asked them to pray for me.  Pray so hard that I would be saved.  They prayed over me for hours!  The next morning I drove back home with no sleep.




What was wrong with me?

If you believe in God, I bet you are asking the same thing! You are not the first and will certainly not be the last!

Nothing!  I know that now!  But then, I thought everything was!  And I was surely doomed to hell.


February 9, 2011


I have been having issues with continuing my blog.  I purposely left out a very important event in my life because it is so incredibly painful to retell.

Right before Mike and I separated I attempted suicide.

I am working on retelling the story but I am choosing to be patient with myself.

I think it is important for me to share my full survival story.  Sadly, many do not survive suicide attempts.  It is not that I believe I know what they felt, because I don’t.   But maybe my story will help loved ones to begin to understand what despair a person who either attempts or commits suicide is dealing with.

I will add that, in my experience and opinion, there are two types of deaths from a suicide.  Accidental and purposeful.  Some people attempt suicide to gain attention or to get help and die accidentally. Others just want to die because it hurts to much to live and has hurt for a very long time!


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