The day after I should have died

My intention with this post is to shine a light on depression and suicide that will hopefully build an understanding; compassion and loving-kindness for those who have never suffered in any way from them, and be a beacon of hope to those whom are living with them now.

The build-up

At the age of twenty-six, I decided to divorce my ex-husband and the father of my two incredibly young children after we lost our home to repossession. I felt that I could offer my kids more and give them a better life on my own. After the divorce, my ex disappeared for about a year. The bank advised me that he had created additional debt with an unpaid credit card and overdraft. The bank decided to come after me for everything because they couldn’t trace him, and we were married in community. So, I was left with no other choice but to file for personal sequestration. Physically, emotionally and financially I received zero support from him…right up until today. Honestly, I was just struggling to feed and clothe my eight- and four-year olds.

Unfortunately, in the same year, the company I worked for also filed for liquidation. I was senior management and so I did not qualify for a retrenchment package. All I knew was this company. With it I lost the car I drove, the phone they paid for and all of my confidence.

I also found myself in a new serious relationship, but he decided to walk out on me just when I felt I needed him the most and when things were the toughest. My children and I had also been awfully close with my ex’s family, but they had all written us off because of the new boyfriend. I found myself all alone.

Here I was, doing temp work to pay the rent and when my 4-year-old son fell and needed stitches, I couldn’t even rush him to the hospital. We were hardly eating, and my Mum was helping in the only way she could – making work for me to temp at her place of employment.

Therapy had been a norm for me for well over a year already. I was dealing with childhood abuse and trauma, plus my divorce and everything else that was going on. I had been experiencing blackouts in my marriage already. It’s awful losing hours of your life and not remembering a thing even though you’ve been wide awake and functional! Apparently, my brain was protecting itself. If it didn’t blackout, then I would have quite literally lost my mind I was told. Gone insane. My diagnoses was severe depression. No ups and downs. Imagine, if you can, that there is a solid ‘normal’ vertical line of emotion that most people sit on. Well, since the age of two years old, I was bobbing constantly under that ‘normal’ line in sadness. So, in essence, it was my normal because it was all I knew.

My emotions

All hell had broken loose and by the end of that exceptionally hard year of my life, I saw no way out. I honestly felt that the world would be a better place without me in it. Deep down in my core I believed that my children would have a better life without me in it. I knew I would get a pension pay out and whoever was looking after them could use that money to care for them. Better that what I was at least, I thought.

I was totally depleted emotionally, physically (I had also developed ‘catapulting weight loss’) and spiritually. I had no faith left in god even. Living had become too hard. No hope was where I was. No-one would miss the *eff* up that I was is what I told myself repeatedly. My life was one endless mistake after another. I just had nothing left to give – not even to my beautiful children who were the only thing I had left in the world to live for. In my mind, I was a burden to them too. I felt ashamed and embarrassed of the mess I felt that I had made for them.

Unbeknown to me at the time, I have been prescribed the incorrect antidepressants. No blood work or tests had been done. Research shows that if you’re on one that does not suite your brain’s chemical imbalance – or if you drink / take drugs on them – then they have the polar opposite effect. In other words, they make you more depressed!

The event

I planned my suicide. Meticulously! I knew what day it would be on. What events needed to happen. How I would do it. In my mind, I had silently arranged all of it for an entire week ahead of the time.

My children were going to be by their dad for the weekend. I had asked my mom to take me shopping for my daughter’s 9th birthday present. My kids’ birthdays are 2 weeks apart and my suicide attempt was in the middle of their birth dates. After receiving my pay the Friday, I spent the entire Saturday with my mom. Never saying a word to her about my plan, I went about choosing pretty girly things for my daughter’s birthday box. Scented candles, gorgeous ornaments and little things I could afford for her. I blew all the money because I knew that I wouldn’t be needing any of it for anything else.

That Saturday night, my mom dropped me off at home and I went about preparing everything. I closed all the windows and curtains as I would for the night. I arranged my daughter’s special birthday box surprise gently. and I wrote in the birthday card. It was all placed next to my bed for them to find. Next, I took a bath and put on a pretty pyjama nighty. Then I emptied my entire bathroom medicine cabinet of every pill / tablet I owned onto the centre of my bed. I sat with my legs straddled around them and with a large jug of water in one hand, I proceeded to swallow handfuls until every last one was finished. I was in robot mode. There was no feeling while I was doing this.

However, shortly afterward I thought of my sister. I have a mother / daughter bond with her, and I raised her partly. So, I called her to tell her that I loved her.

Then, I took a notepad and pen and started writing my suicide note. There we things I wanted my kids to know. How much I loved them! …so much that I was relieving them of me. That this was NOT their doing. They were in no way to blame themselves. The instructions to my daughter’s birthday box gift. Why I was doing this.

Grace

I never finished my note and there was a long pen line left mid-sentence because I was still writing when I passed out. I flopped backwards onto my pillows when I lost consciousness. There is absolutely no memory of this for me. I didn’t even feel drowsy; nor was I aware that I was passing out; that is how fast it happened.

My sister (Melanie) had been trying to call me back and I wasn’t answering my phone. She had a sixth sense something was wrong in a big way. After calling me a couple of times and getting no answer, she called my foster sister. Melanie lives 600 km away from me so she couldn’t just drop past and check-up on me. My foster sister told her not to worry and that they’d check on me in the morning as it was extremely late already. They were in bed. Mel says she felt hopeless but had no choice but to agree. Luckily, my foster sister’s husband said, “hell no”, climbed out of bed and got dressed to go to my place.

He says that when he got to my apartment, he tried calling me a couple of times. My phone was on and he could hear it ringing but I wasn’t answering. He was banging on the door and calling out for me. Still no answer. Left with no alternatives, he decided to call my ex-husband asking him if he had a spare key for my place. Long story short, my ex apparently smashed down the front door and they found my sunken-in body, already turning blueish on my bed. He threw me over his shoulder (like a sack of potatoes apparently) and they rushed me to the closest hospital.

My stomach was pumped to get all the remaining undigested medication out, and activated charcoal was pumped back in. I remained unconscious during all of this. I have no memory. No bright light appearing. Zero enlightening conversations. Just blackness. Nothingness. Apparently, the doctor said I had minutes left. Not even a half an hour.

The day after I should have died

I regained consciousness the following afternoon. I remember waking up in an adult cot bed with visitors around me. It felt like I was under the ocean…my vision was blurry; my hearing muffled; I had no sense of smell and I felt woozy like I was in a boat rocking back and forth. I was still immensely drugged up which was an after effect of everything I had ingested. Great disappointment washed over me as I realised that I was in fact still alive. My foster sister’s husband said I looked at him with disgust (and almost hate) and he thought I knew he had saved me. He told me that it was definitely evident that I regretted still being alive. I was full of black charcoal all over my face; neck; chest and in my hair. And, I must have stank! With some effort – walking was almost impossible – they got me to the bathroom and my foster sister bathed me; washed my hair and dressed me.

Truly little to no sympathy is shown to you when you try to kill yourself by some medical staff. They are all pro-life I guess, and I had just pissed on their personal belief system. I was a waste. A waste of time; energy and life to most of them. The lack of care was so evident (even in the psych ward) that my mum brought me homemade meals daily.

The devastation I felt because I was still on this earth was huge. It was almost a new unbearable burden all by itself. I experienced a massive panic attack whilst we were driving home after I was discharged. Both of us had never experienced a panic attack before and we got such a fright that my foster sister turned around and took me back. Fainting was also a new thing I would experience…that was awful because I could feel myself going down but couldn’t stop it. I had lost my apartment and my friends had packed my stuff up and stored it in boxes in their garage. My children were gone too; my ex-husband got them because I wasn’t fit at that time to care for them. Basically, I had literally lost everything. EVERYTHING.

With nowhere to go, my foster sister took me in, and I was placed on ‘suicide watch’. Everything that had the potential to help me harm myself was hidden or locked away. I even had to ask for a headache pill. Everything was out of my control and my foster sister was put in charge. She controlled my medication and my life. I felt like I was a disappointment to everyone. My Dad and sister drove the 600 km’s to come see me. Dad was devastated and after that his health started going south. He was never fit as a fiddle again. He told me that he couldn’t understand why. “Why” was all he kept asking me but couldn’t understand the answers. After suffering the loss of a mother and sister at age six years old; plus, a family after my mum divorced him; I think the thought of losing a child was too horrific for him.

The aftermath

My health took a massive knock because of all the poison I had put into it. For over a decade thereafter I struggled to get healthy and I was constantly sick. Recovery was not instant for me emotionally either. It took an additional nervous breakdown; a stay in a state psychiatric facility and tons of therapy over the next seven years for me to just find my feet. Depression can be a very selfish state of mind because everything is all about me. However, it can also be a protection mechanism as I discovered. My point is that I am alive today; totally healthy in my mind, body and spirit, and living a content and happy life! Today I practice a holistic and (as far as I can) natural medication regime. I refuse to live in fear…for anything or anyone. My world is beautiful, positive and loving. I have a purpose and I am fulfilling it as I live and breathe. My heart is open, kind and compassionate. I love having new experiences and learning new things. My passion is sharing with others openly to in some tiny way help and serve them. Life can be so good!

Helping to grow awareness on depression and suicide.

Has depression and / or suicide had an impact on your life in any way? Then I’d like to share with you the little I learnt from it.

• If you suffer – or even think you suffer – from depression, seek professional medical help.
• Do you have thoughts of hurting and / or killing yourself? If yes, then please get help! You can do this simply by just telling someone…anyone.
• There is a stigma attached to suicide and depression, so get to know your disease / your loved one’s disease intimately and everything about it. Talk. Be honest. Be open. Help grow the awareness and banish the stigma. Read. Learn. And most importantly, understand.
• If you are the survivor of suicide, again, please get professional help.
• If you live with or support someone who suffers from depression, you should also seek professional help; advice and / or support groups to aid in your understanding and knowledge of the sickness.
• Until you are able to stand on your own two feet, seek emotional support from your family and friends. We are all human and we all need to ask for help when we need it. You will be totally surprised at how some will come running!
• When you / your loved one is prescribed medication, insist on a full blood work analysis to make sure you are getting the correct stuff that is totally compatible with your specific chemical imbalance.
• DO NOT drink alcohol or take drugs when on antidepressants.
• Please know that things can get better.
• You are worthy, special and so loved.
• The you that you are is not to be blamed.
• It’s not your fault.
• You can do this.
• A wonderful life is possible.

I am aware that not all suicide attempts are unsuccessful sadly. Understand that the chemically imbalanced brain does not work the same as a ‘normal’ one. The thoughts; and therefore the emotions too are not the same. They are not healthy. Not loving. Not kind and gentle. And, if they were successful, it was not your fault. Actually, it most probably had nothing to do with you at all.

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