Surviving Suicide

Please note: This was originally written at the end of April 2015. The subject matter can be difficult to read. Trigger warning. 

“You weren’t meant to do this alone. If you’re constantly putting on a front that you have it all together, other people will start to believe that you really do have it all together. So, I challenge you to be honest with trusted friends and family. Share your struggles with them and let them help carry your burdens and encourage you. Because the truth is: you were never meant to do this alone.”

APRIL 21, 2015

Recently I was criticized for being so honest and baring my soul on these pages. It hurt. I believe that in order to write the things I do, it takes courage. It requires me to be vulnerable and it is far from easy. It helps me heal and I will never apologize for being honest. If you don’t want to know about me and my life then just don’t read it. Heavens. 

Anyway, I really didn’t expect to sit down and write this tonight. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. But then I read this article about Natalie’s Story and I decided that I needed to get this out there while it was at the forefront of my mind and while I felt brave enough to tell this part of my story.

So we all know I suffer with Borderline Personality Disorder. If you don’t know what that is, please click on the link to read about it. You never know, it just might change your life. I hear from people all the time that never knew this disorder existed until they read my story and all the sudden their life, or a life of a family member finally makes sense.

This week I have been feeling a wide range of emotions. I feel inadequate, worthless and unworthy. My mind tells me I am the worst mother and my kids would be better off without me. You know, I honestly thought my marriage had changed. I thought we were finally moving forward. But really it was just the calm before the storm. The hurricane was still brewing.

His love was a lie. How could I be so blind? I feel betrayed and hopeless.

I knew. I knew that the changes I made weren’t enough and they never would be. Why couldn’t I just be good enough for once? Is that really to hard to ask? Seriously. Everyone around me could be normal, why not me? Why couldn’t I just give my husband the life he wanted?

Last week I sat on this overpass at 2am for hours. Just staring down and thinking what it would feel like to jump. I have sat on many overpasses in my life. Willing myself the courage to take the leap. I took this picture while I was sitting there. I was mesmerized by the cars lights. I always wonder where the people are going. Are they going home? What type of life do they live? What struggles do they face? Are they happy? Is anyone happy?

I have attempted suicide many times. There are many blog posts dedicated to them. Especially the one that changed my life in 2013. But I have learned from my failed attempt experiences. I knew there were two options to ensure that all this pain would finally end. I didn’t have access to the first option thankfully. But on April 15th, I drove to Home Depot. Purchased what I needed. Cut the rope. Tied the noose. And then I found the perfect spot, the perfect tree. And I sat there two nights in a row going over the details. Very few people will know what it feels like to have a rope pulled tight against their throat. I do.

Please understand. It isn’t that I’m so depressed that I feel I have no purpose in life. It is that I feel everything. It is exhausting. I feel every emotion. I feel the pain. The dark of the world invades my soul. I internalize it all to the point it manifests as excruciating physical pain. 

Honestly, I miss my husband. But maybe even more I miss the relationship, closeness and intimacy that is shared by two people who love each other. We have been through so much … how do you recover from it? What happens when one persons love is greater than the other?

This post is not supposed to be depressing, shocking or negative in any way. I am following the timeline of how I got to where I currently am. It has always been my policy to never omit my experiences no matter how difficult. You think I want to admit that my life went down this path again? That I failed again? I’m taking the chance and being vulnerable for any to read. Maybe the radical honesty can finally break some barriers and stigma. And guess what? Spoiler alert: I survived.

UPDATE:

“You’re exactly where you are supposed to be right now, you are exactly who you are supposed to be… Your journey led you here for a reason, and it’s not required for you to know exactly where it goes from here. Just listen to your heart and take one inspired step at a time.
Trust yourself. Be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself… And most importantly, LOVE yourself, because YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT, just the way you are.”

After those dark days in the car and beside the tree I made a radical decision. I was done.  I left. It brought me here. I’m placing the final edits on this post on 11/11/15. A lot of time has passed. Things have dramatically changed. I feel at peace and I am so incredibly grateful.

I have amazing parents. Can you imagine getting a call from your daughter at 3am detailing the plan to take her life while she is 1000 miles away? The plan to take the pills then hang the rope? It is impossible to imagine the pain they must have felt. The helplessness. Thank you Mom and Dad. I may be an adult but I can’t do this on my own. Pure unconditional love and acceptance from you saved my life.

Anyway. I finally decided to trust myself. It got me here and I am building something beautiful.

NOTE: Do you know what would be really amazing? If we stopped saying someone “Committed Suicide”. Criminals commit crime. Suicide is not a crime. It only contributes to horrible stigma associated with suicide. Saying ‘committed’ implies blame. Let’s decide to stop that right now.

If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

xoxo,

Kristin

Going Home

The last few days have been really rough. Just regular life stuff, but really hard nonetheless. Birthdays have never been my thing. I keep thinking that it is not the right time to write this part of the story, but maybe it is the BEST time. Because it will help give me some perspective. To not let the regular life stuff trip me up and question my purpose here.

 

Okay, so now we all know about July 22nd. Where do I begin with the aftermath? I guess for starters you should know that I never should have survived (which seems to be a running theme in all these stories and my life). In my mind the phone ringing and the text messages finally stopped and peace enveloped and embraced me. I absolutely know some things I experienced are never meant to be shared, even with my closest family. Want to know why? Because even though I can see them, there are no words on this planet to describe what I saw. I do however remember the feelings. The first and foremost was a complete sense of calm and peace, of just feeling right with the world. I felt the warmth and welcoming. Complete acceptance, no judgments. Just that feeling that you are finally where you are supposed to be. Home. I felt my Heavenly Father’s embrace. His love. His complete understanding. It fills my heart right now just thinking about it. I wanted those feelings to last forever, anyone who experienced them would. But of course they were fleeting, because the very next thing I knew I felt a very strong hand push me back. Of everything I experienced during that time, it is the clearest of all because it was so jarring. It was definitely a hand that pushed me back, propelling me forward.

I woke up in a cold shower. My roommate had found me and was trying to get me to come back. It has to be like what a baby feels like when it is born. All warm and safe, then suddenly ripped from the quiet and peaceful enclosure to be thrust in to a world of bright lights, loud noises, and unfamiliar surroundings. Things progressed quickly from there.

That day changed me. Wouldn’t you be changed? Since that experience time has changed as well. Days feel like weeks. Weeks feel like months. It has been very confusing at times. Here is an example. I ordered a package that said would take a week to arrive. I wake up in the morning, and I get upset when I check my mailbox. Why hasn’t the package gotten here yet? It is taking forever. Then I look back through my emails. I had just ordered it the day before, actually just the night before. Of course it isn’t here yet. But things like that happen almost every single day. It’s weird to say the least. But I know there is a reason for it. Can you imagine experiencing all the things I have in my life? And you as a reader know only a tiny fraction of them. How long would it take for you to recover from those awful, painful, traumatic events? Months, Years? It took me a week. Because those 7 days felt like 7 months. And every month that has passed since that time has felt like a year. Think I’m crazy? Ask the people I live with. They know.

It was an immediate transformation. I talked to my Dad a lot after that day. My Grandfather had died earlier that year and he was still grieving the loss. We all were. My dad and I needed each other. We would talk every single day after The Event. It was interesting because he would start to say the same things as I felt. “Wow Kristin, you have come so far in just the last few weeks, I can’t even believe how much you have changed!” “But Dad, it has only been two days. It’s the 24th.” “You have got to be kidding me. It feels like a lifetime ago.” And in my mind it was. But that wasn’t the case for everyone in my life.

I have never, ever in my life seen my husband lose himself the way he did on That Day. In fact, I think I have only seen him cry twice in 11 years. He never loses his composure. But he did that day. And in the months following, when I had nothing else to hold on to, when he was a thousand miles away even though we were sitting in the same room. I would remember his words on my voicemail. Him pleading and crying for me to stay. “Please Kristin, do NOT do this, we NEED you!”

But he has no idea how much he truly needs me. He probably still doesn’t. But I do. I’ve seen it.