Month: April 2019

Today I don’t want to die…. not like yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that….I just wanted to “check out” of this world and to go heaven and be with Jesus. I am tired of the pain I live with daily called depression and the stress of life and constantly feeling overwhelmed and trying to stay afloat and not drown.

Life once again had become too much to bear and was no longer worth living so I wanted to die. I was having suicidal ideations of how I was going to kill myself and get out of this world. Of course it is all at the same time relieving and scary. Relieving because I have an answer to end the pain but also scary because I don’t want to act on it and do this to my kids- leave them motherless and leave them in this world with a legacy that their mother killed herself.

I love my family-my husband, my sister, my mom, my friends, my cousins and I know they love me. This sounds selfish and maybe hard hearted but even our love for each other isn’t enough to keep me on this earth or stop me from killing myself. It’s my love for my kids- it’s the only thing that has stopped me from the times I’ve ever been so close to doing it. Their love is what gets me help.

The nurse who admitted me into the mental health unit this time said, “Thank God it’s your kids! You are lucky you have something to live for. So many don’t.”

I am lucky that I do have something that keeps me living…I worry what will happen to me when they are all grown up and won’t need me anymore. Maybe then I’ll want to live for my grandkids. One of my friends tells me I need to learn to live for myself. My husband says my kids will alway need their mother. But I’m worried that this illness will be my demise. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to keep fighting for the rest of my life.

Here I am again, March 27, 2019, walking into the mental health ward at Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Tacoma as a patient for a second time. I seriously thought I’d never be here again and yet I am. This time I am all alone…Brian is in Arkansas on a business trip… thankfully my sister was with me for hours in the ER as I waited to be admitted here but now she is with my son as he is having his senior pictures being taken right now. I am suppose to be with him…but instead, my major depression has once again robbed me of so much of my life like it has for over twenty years. I want to die and instead of being with my son sharing this special day with him, I am here….because if I am not, I will die.

“Well, at least this time I’m walking in whereas last time I was rolled in on a gurney by EMT. These are all improvements, right?” I reassure myself. It’s definitely less dramatic.

I’m disappointed in myself and honestly a bit ashamed to be back here…it’s as if I’m a failure to be here once again.

The place looks exactly the same as it did almost two and a half years ago….October 2016. I see familiar faces in staff members which is a bit comforting. Some of them recognize me which is a double edged sword…comforting and embarrassing.

I’m definitely not as terrified this time and I know what to expect but I’m honestly sad that my room isn’t in the same unit/quad or I don’t see the same patients that I bonded with previously. They aren’t here to support or comfort me and anxiety begins to settle in because I will have to start from scratch meeting new people and explaining my story and history not only to other patients but to new staff as well. It’s exhausting to tell why I am here and to explain my story and my life.

Will I get along and mesh with everyone here and how will this compare to my previous experience? Will I get the help I so desperately need and want like I did the first time? Will the doctors and staff help me want to live? Will I survive and beat my illness?

(I wanted to honestly write how I felt the day I was admitted and these were my recollections of it the day after… March 28, 2019)

Side note: On March 28th, 2019, I saw Dr. Kinney, who happened to be my psychiatrist here the first time in 2016. He also remembered me and it was good to have the same doctor who knew my history. He reassured me that it was nothing to be ashamed of to be here again. He said it was quite common for patients to be here multiple times and to think of it as a tune-up or a reset. While here Dr. Kinney reminded me that major depression is a mental illness, life-long that has no cure but it can be managed. It is no different than having something like diabetes or cancer. Actually I have heard this before and I simply got teary- eyed because I’m exhausted from living with this illness of the mind. While I don’t mean to be a downer, I’m just speaking my truth at this time…I’m exhausted…I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy…