Getting Off The Roller Coaster

Today is National Suicide Prevention Day. Today is the day that people share graphics with quotes that say 'know you are loved' and 'just keep moving forward' and 'it's darkest before the dawn'. We will see the phone number for the Suicide Prevention Line (1-800-273-8255) or the Crisis Text Line (text HOME to 741741). What we may see less of are people sharing their stories. Attempted/Suicide is still associated with so much stigma. Even in death, we blame them- ' if only they had reached out, I would have listened.' 'It is so selfish for them to have done this.' 'What about their family/friends/kids?' Those who attempt, idealize, and survive suicide have stories to tell, and feelings to bare, but are you interested in hearing from them while they are alive?

I have a story to share. One that has taken me a full two years to even bring myself to talk about it. Unfortunately, the story is not exclusively mine; it is ensnared with other people's lives. I do not wish to bring anymore pain or stress to those people. So instead of sharing the details of my story, I am going to share what it feels like to want the world to stop. I am speaking to those in the depths of the ocean, drowning while smiling. I am also speaking to those that want to understand. My experience is my own. I am a mother, (was) a wife, and (was) a business owner-and I don't claim it to represent anyone else's feelings; but, maybe sharing this will be the lighthouse in someone else's storm.

My Dear Broken One,

I see you. I see all of you; the parts you are hiding behind smiling eyes and long sleeved shirts. You got up for work today. You fought that urge to stay in bed, even though the thought of getting up was exhausting. You likely skipped breakfast, focusing on getting yourself and your kids out the door. God, you know you love them, but lately it doesn't seem like enough; just work you have to get through, because that's what moms do. You rush into your job, and realize you were supposed to bring something with you. Of course you forgot it; you can't keep your shit together. That embarrassment you feel from failing again? You breeze past that because there isn't time to fall apart. You have a job to do today.

After work you come home; you should have gone to the gym, but you are just so exhausted. You snap at your husband and your kids. The combination of anger and shame wells up in your chest, but if you let those tears come they may never stop. Stay in control. Everyone expects you to be in control. There isn't time to fall apart.

You can't get out of bed the next day. You feel so heavy that you literally can't move. The darkness and the blankets are holding you down like bricks thrown into the ocean. You know you should see your doctor. The doctor you've been avoiding, or maybe even lying to, because what do you have to feel so shitty about?

You are a responsible adult. You will go on meds. You will try and get better, because who has time to fall apart? No one wants to see you like this. Behaving like this is a burden on everyone. Your embarrassment, anger and shame that come with staying in bed all day? I know it is burning through you like wild fire. How can you stay in control? You know that razor cut would seem like a ridiculously childish way to get attention. You know that it is something you have to hide. Just another thing to be ashamed of; and yet, feeling physical pain is the only way to stop the emotional pain, for just a minute. Just one breath of fresh air.

The days keep happening and you're still on. You have people to serve and households to hold down. Kids to raise. Kids you are so desperately trying to protect from yourself. You are failing them. They deserve better than you. You can't possibly explain it to them; that they aren't enough to keep you from spiraling. You choke on your guilt, like vomit you can't hold down. You need that moment of fresh air; that one minute, just to breathe. Regain control, the only way you can. With every cut you feel relief and shame. They fight constantly. Everything is a fight.

Your partner is worried about you, but is distant and full of judgment. You desperately want to be able to make him understand that you are in agony. That you are suffering with the shrill screams of your own brain. That it isn't on purpose. You know that your behavior is just pushing him away. You don't blame him. Who could love this? You are pathetic, an attention whore who is more of a burden than a partner. He is so tired of dealing with you. He is thankful to go to work and get away.

You ignore your friends texts, and work is getting to be unmanageable. Every email you skip replying to and every message you don't have the energy to respond to adds to the guilt of not being able to keep up. People are relying on you. The worry keeps you up at night; sleep, when it happens, is a nightmare, keeping that cortisol pumping through your veins. There is no relief. There will never be relief because you are messing everything up. You have no value- you're failing at work, you're failing at home. You're a terrible friend. You're a terrible mother. No one deserves to be on this roller coaster with you. Everyone wants off, including you.

Rage. How could no one see that you are suffering? How is it that everyone that is important to you is too involved in their own lives, their own heads, to notice you? You aren't important enough to be noticed. No one would even miss you if you were gone. No one sees you. The loneliness is engulfing.

You've made the decision. You carefully craft a plan. It is purposeful, and for the first time in months you feel a sense of purpose. You make sure your kids stay at a friends house, and you make sure your clients don't need you the next day. You don't want to burden anyone. You say goodbye to your partner, who is walking out the door for work, grateful to get away. You sit down and your last message pours out onto the pages, a rambling of tequila shots and agony and grief. You know this will be hard on them, but in the long run it will be better for everyone. It will be hard at first, but people will move on. This is ultimately a gift, because no one deserves to be dragged into your despair anymore.  No one deserves to be on your rollercoaster. Everyone just wants it to stop. It needs to stop. 'Take good care of my babies' you write- they will get better care than you can provide. Someday you hope they understand.



I see you. I see all of you; the parts you are hiding behind smiling eyes and long sleeved shirts. Bleeding, broken, scarred. Overcome by shame, guilt, embarrassment. Fear. Fear that it will never end. Fear there is only one way out. Fear that you will never recover. Fear that you will never be loved. Fear that you will ultimately end up alone. I see you. I hear your silent cries. I feel your urgency. I understand.

You have no reason to believe me that it will get better. You have no confidence in yourself to heal. I wish I could tell you it gets immediately easier. It doesn't. You may, in fact, lose your family and friends. You may be accused of being manipulative; an awful, selfish person. Your friends may force you to listen to how you hurt them, and the damage you caused. That feeling of embarrassment and shame? That is not going away for a while. As a matter of fact, that may sit on your heart forever. You will be forever changed by this darkness. Your life may not look like what you thought it would. People will walk away, reinforcing that narrative that you are unworthy of love.

All I can tell you, is that fear; that loneliness and darkness and agony and embarrassment and shame and guilt- it becomes a part of your story. It becomes your rock bottom so you can understand being grateful. It becomes your illness so you can enjoy feeling well. It becomes your ugly so you can understand beauty. It becomes your grief so you can understand love. It becomes your past. It doesn't stay forever. It will always be a part of you, but it isn't you. It is not your whole story. You are more than those feelings, you are more than those choices, you are more than those fears. You may not see your worth now, but I assure you that you are worthy of love, even as the broken, scared, bleeding, crying mess that you feel like. Your value is not in being resilient. People like to bring up resiliency when you have walked through the pits of hell. The fact is, you aren't resilient. At least not right now. And that is okay. You don't have to be resilient. You don't have to be reliable or happy or beautiful or capable of functioning to deserve love. To be loved. To accept love. To forgive yourself.

There is no timeline for healing. There are no benchmarks. You will heal in bits and pieces at a time. Each laugh, each tear, each day, they all become woven into a tapestry that carries your story, each stitch representing a part of you that makes up the whole. It is beautiful.

You deserve to be here. You were made to be here. You have purpose, even if you don't know what it is yet. Your purpose may be to have so much empathy for those in pain that you provide them the comfort you weren't provided. When you know what darkness feels like, you can become a lighthouse.

Finally, I want you to know, that I am so so sorry you are hurting. If I could take away all of your pain and let you feel a moment of joy, I would. I see you. You mean something to me. You are important. You have value. I hope that you keep fighting, one day at a time. I know those days are long. If you decide you can't make it, I will not judge you; I understand that some things are too impossible to bare. But for your sake, I hope you do make it, and I am here to sit with you in body or in spirit, with no pressure to be anything but yourself.

Love,

Nicole