The threads of a process. Part 3: Mending

(*Part 1 of this series can be found here. Part 2 of this series can be found here.)

The doctor gave me a long, compassionate but firm stare as I lay curled up on my side to avoid the IV in my arm from twisting.It didn’t work and a drop of blood started oozing out of the injection site. I focused on the growing, deep red sphere as she spoke.

“You had an extremely serious over dose.  You were very sick. The reason you are still here is that you had a gastric bypass and your body couldn’t absorb enough of the medication to create a lethal level. If you keep attempting to overdose all you will do is cause severe organ damage and make your self extremely sick and possibly impaired for the rest of your life. As it is we will have to keep an eye out for any damage that has already been done. It’s a horrible way to suffer and go. I recommend that you stop.”

And I did.

It is hard to explain, but often when someone’s “plan” is thwarted, for whatever reason, that is the end of it.  I thought it was weird at the time till I read more about it and realized that it is often the case.

And like that…I knew I was going to live.

I had to.

My option was gone and I could not tell you a logical reason how on earth that could matter so much…but it did.

Jonathan realized that me being on my own was hurting much more than helping and so he and the children moved back home. Jon and I struggle hard in our marriage. Sometimes we take it moment by moment. I have always been completely honest with him, even if it takes time. I always tell him the truth. We care about and love each other but I can’t let people turn this into a Cinderella story. Things like we have been through changes everything about you and your relationships and we are just trying to make it, however we can. Our way may not be the way of, oh…most of you, really, but it’s where we’re at.

Having him and the kids back in the house helped a lot. And bit by bit by slow, slow, SLOW bit…I improved.

I wish that I could tell you more, that this could be a more “satisfying” ending and less of a “Three effing books of  ’Twilight’ about the Volturi and at the end NOBODY EVEN FIGHTS???” results, but the truth is that I don’t remember a lot of it.

I just know that I was not well for a long time and it was an awfully tedious road to stability. I have worked my ass off to slowly put big, effing, solid boundaries on things and in places they should have existed for in the first place. It’s still so far from ideal but it is what it is at this point. As long as I keep moving forward and don’t go backward that is what I can do for now.

The real tipping point in getting to a stable place came when I stopped taking ALL medications.

I wish I could say that I am a person who could be helped by taking a pill, but that just doesn’t seem to be the case. They make me worse.  I wish they did not, but they do. We tried putting me pack on them when I was pregnant and REALLY struggling and the same signs started to come again. So, I do not think I will ever attempt them again. It’s too iffy and frightening.

I AM NOT ADVOCATING ANYONE STOPPING THEIR MEDICATION.

I also want to reiterate something that I anticipate some confusion on.

I DO NOT THINK COMMITTING SUICIDE IS AN ACT OF BRAVERY.

Period.

THE END.

It is a HUGELY selfish act.

It is a choice in many ways.

But I also know that if you are truly at that point, you CANNOT SEE OR COMPREHEND THAT FOR A DAMN.

You can’t.

If you COULD?

You wouldn’t do it.

(Unless you were doing it to deliberately inflict pain on others, in which case, wow…I don’t even know what to say to that scenario.)

Would I do this today? See that as logic? Feel it was for the good of all? That it couldn’t be sorted out??? NO. HELL NO. NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. TO infinity and beyond. Leave my sweet children? My friends? My family and loved ones? I would never. I just wouldn’t do that to them.

Because I am not suicidal.

But.

When I sat there, in that van, I simply did not, COULD NOT see it as selfish. Or cowardly. Or that it would cause so much hurt and guilt and fear and pain and anger. You can think I am the biggest self-centered, narcissistic, bastard in the world for that but it is the truth.

Now? Yes. I absolutely see it.

Then? I could not see it that way because I was suicidal.

And that mind had no logic or reason or ability to see a way out of the hole it was in. Even with people I adored saying “Yes, you can!”

No, I couldn’t.

It is a sick fantasy place all unto itself and I chose a whole lot of things that landed my self-indulgent ass square on it.

And I hate myself for that.

I did state that the actual act of ending your life takes courage. And I stand by my words. I anticipate flack for it and I absolutely understand why you would dole it out. I tried to write that piece as much from the point I was at as I was capea capable, knowing I would take a longer look outside it here.

When I say “it takes courage” to actually go and step off the cliff? It is not the “you are so brave and heroic” kind of courage I am talking about. I’m simply saying that it is scary like you can’t believe and even if you are committed and are at the point where there just aren’t any other options you can see? That actual ACT takes courage, EVEN THOUGH the ac itself is hugely cowardly.

I was a tremendous coward.

A horrible, self-centered piece of sick, infected crap.

I still am to a huge degree

Huge.

I often stare at the pile of stuff I should be doing and saying to make amends and just sit there like a deer in headlights overwhelmed because there isn’t any “sorry” that can touch it and my actions are often pitiful and sucktastic because yes…I am still digging my way out. Five years is a long time but it took me 30 to get to that point, so again…I will take what I can get. I’m just trying to be ok in my own skin while still moving forward. It’s hard when your skin is just not that awesome or what you thought it would be.

I wrote this story the best way I could.  It has taken me 5 years to get to this point to be able to even think about it. And I have been dreading, dreading, dreading it. Ask my online friends just HOW much I looked forward to this week.

I sat down, wrote it, and then set it to publish and swore to NOT TOUCH IT NO MATTER WHAT.

It will not make everyone happy. I hope to god it doesn’t hurt everyone too much.

This was the worst thing I have ever had to write.

Ever.

I will be honest…I regret ever talking about it online.

When I posted it in September, I was not in a good place. I was struggling and I was struggling HARD. Having little Butterlump brought more peace and joy to our lives and hearts than you can imagine.

But you also can’t imagine how freaking scary it was.

He was so close in age to Matthew. And having a baby the exact age as the one I lost on the anniversary of his death about did me in.  I hear from more grieving parents than normal around that time.  And one letter really got to me. It was from a woman pouring out her heart and soul about the loss of her 2-year-old. And she wrote something that chilled me to the bone. “I didn’t hold up like you. Shamefully, it was too much for me and I tried to kill myself. I’m so embarrassed telling you that.”

SHE’S SO EMBARRASSED TELLING ME THAT.

Me.

I felt like such a…a…liar. I hear this a lot, but it hit me really hard that day.  Even though I knew there was no way I could talk about a lot of it online, I felt so bad. So, without really thinking it through, I posted it a few days before Matthew’s anniversary.

And the fallout SUCKED.

It SUCKED.

Let me repeat that…IT EFFING SUCKED.

That post, the first part of this series had hundreds of comments.

I heard from so many people that it helped and I was genuinely glad. (AND those comments that were able to help people get out their stories and what they needed? ARE THE ONLY REASON MY COMMENTS HAVE REMAINED ON. Period.)

But.

The fallout was bad and I was not in the place for it.

But.

It was now online.

With one humdinger of a cliffhanger. For everyone to find and read. And I would get asked. Asked at the most unexpected times, “So…what happened?”. I had zero prep for it. It hits me like a kick in the gut every time. When I speak somewhere or go to conferences, I brace myself for the question. When I went to The White House in November and people said how honest and raw my blog was I almost felt sick thinking, “Did they read…THAT? Would they still want me here? Could I handle it if they didn’t????”  If strangers said I sucked? If people turned their backs?

Because it’s who I am.

I can’t pretend it’s not, that it didn’t happen.

It did. It happened to me and I am tired of feeling so ashamed of it to the point that I can’t let any of it go. I have “The best reason in the world” and look at how I feel about myself and all that happened.

What about people who get to that point I did with less “socially acceptable” reasons? (Disclaimer: not all of it was acceptable in the least. Just the Matthew part.)

What about them?

I still wasn’t going to go there.

But…some mending took place in my life with people.

Hesitant but lovely. There was some talking about the first go around and that I should just get it out and done with and try to keep the topic to myself and how I saw it as possible.

And?

I was contacted by BlogHer to ask if I could finish the story for consideration of possible syndication.  I am not really a “self starter girl”. Especially when it comes to things I am not super excited to do. BUT…it always helps me when I have to answer to someone. So I thought about it. I hemmed. I hawed. I put off. I pondered. I talked to people. I had some nightmares and more than one ulcer.

And finally I said yes.

Then procrastinated writing it some more.

I have no idea if it will be picked up by them or not and I really do not care. Because that isn’t the motivation for writing it. And for the trite, tired, shitty YET OH, SO PREDICTABLE people who undoubtedly will (YET AGAIN) think or accuse that this was done for traffic and/or attention and call me a narcissistic ho-bag?

Please.

I don’t need traffic.

Let me repeat that: I DO NOT NEED TRAFFIC.

This is the least enjoyable moment of my online life.

There are other things about blogging and being online besides traffic, yo.

If you don’t believe me, well…I can’t help that. Just keep it to yourself because if you think for a solitary second that this is something that I would put out in the world just for attention?  You suck.

And the attention?

Yeah. That’s fun.

NOT.

Blogging is a huge ego stroke. I love the daily affermation I get from it. I like attention. Always have, always will. I am a natural performer and have been since I could walk. I walked away from an opera career and this is a bit like standing on a stage getting clapped at (and booed and hissed, frankly).

BUT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA THE SHAME I HAVE WITH THIS?

I do not need nor want this kind of “attention”.  My reasons are so far beyond that.

So many people here are beyond kind. So well meaning. And please, please, please do not take what I am about to say as a slap or that I am ungrateful for your kindness to me, I’m not.  But there is simply nothing harder than hearing “you’re so brave”. “You’re so courageous” WHEN YOU DO NOT FEEL LIKE YOU ARE BRAVE OR COURAGEOUS.

I truly, honestly, do not mean to insult your kindness to me if you have said those exact words. PROMISE.

But the truth is? I AM NEITHER OF THOSE THINGS.

I. Am. Not.

Bravery is just sticking it out through the suck and the pain. Day after day after god damn day without dropping your load.

Those people are brave.

Courageous is being the loved one, the friend, the confidant, the shit on “I am the one that tried to help you by buying you your medication because I love you and you pay me back by shitting all over me and using it to try and kill yourself and I feel so betrayed” friend that just tried their guts out to help.

Those people are courageous.

And I am not them. Or I wounded and hurt them.

I am just a fucked up girl that is talking about the worst time of her life online and have to hope it enables me to let some of it go, to hold my head up about it and to maybe help others feel less alone or less crazy.

Big difference, people.

HUGE.

And while I am hoping to be able to put some of this behind me by writing it?

There are things I think I SHOULD be ashamed about.

Horribly ashamed about.

I hurt a lot of people.

But I have also got to try to start getting past it.

I get “stuck” too much. I need to put this in the past and try to move on. I am REALLY hoping that this experience gives me some help in that area.I probably, no–I KNOW that I haven’t written this to the satisfaction of some. It’s just the way of it. But, I know the truth, I know the why’s, I know where my responsibility lays and where others had a hand in the spiral of suck that was me.  I did the best I could here and honestly have no idea if it will be “worth it” in the end for me or not.

I hope it is because it has been hideous to write.

But.

Since it was already out there, it was also time to talk about it.

I know that as I breathe.

And?

At the end of the day, even though the progress can be SO slow, I fail and disappoint and just cannot live up to what people know I can be,  I am so much better than I was.  It’s just that sometimes I have to look at the big picture and keep making tiny, teeny steps when I can’t make bigger ones. Which is a lot of the time.

I find and try to take what happiness and peace I can, wherever I can. And I have been pretty blessed. I feel happier than I ever had hope for me to feel. It’s still a pretty damaged, fucked up happiness, but I will take what I can get in that area. It’s more than I thought would happen for someone like me, frankly.

Even though I have come so far, I fail all the time. I am sure that will continue to happen.

It may not be the way YOU would walk or how you want me to do it but I just keep putting one foot in front of the other.

And eventually, I hope all that walking lands me somewhere where I am at peace.

(The end. Promise.)