A Mother's Cry

 

This is probably one of the hardest things I've written about.  I've started it many times and put it aside because I was never sure if I could even put it into words.

I also didn't want anyone judging the situation.  It is a tough situation to even think about going through but then to actually live it....

Mind you, what I am about to write about happened a few years ago and we are all fine now.  I am writing about it because I am sure other moms have gone through it, are going through it or will go through it.  I just want you to know that you are not alone.

I thought it was odd that she asked me for an extension cord.  She said that she needed it for her curling iron.  I had a long day and didn't really question her.  After several minutes...hell, it could have been an hour but the time doesn't matter, she came out of the bathroom and admitted to the lie and said that the cord was to put into the tub with her.

As a parent, I didn't know what to do.  I knew she struggled and we had tried to get help but help was just almost impossible to find.  School counselors were focused on SATs and college meetings.  I was told that they were too busy to even refer us to someone who could help.  I had called behavioral health and got her in to see an older guy but he really couldn't relate to poor body image and teenage breakups.

I tried to help but she accused me of making it about me.  I only tried to relate to what she was going through but she didn't see me as ever being a teenager.

When she admitted the intent of the extension cord, I calmly said that I was glad that she told me and we talked for a bit.  She went to bed.

I was up all night thinking why the fuck couldn't I help my own child.  I felt like a failure.  I made the decision to seek the ultimate help.

I can't really remember if she went to school the next day but again, the timeline doesn't really matter.

I made the decision to take her to the emergency room and seek for some way to help her.

She had serious body image issues.  She binged and purged.  She was a shell of what she once was.  She worked out constantly.

She had bullies at school who were into cyberbullying her.  Her ass was too big, her arms were too hairy, and whatever else.  

She self harmed.  Her arms were cut with scissors or a knife.

She was angry and depressed.

and I couldn't help her.

My beautiful child was a mess.

She didn't fight me on going to the hospital.  Which surprised me but I think she was just ready to get help too.

In the emergency room they ran blood tests and checked vitals.  Finally a doctor came and talked with us, mainly her.  She explained everything that was going on with her and her thoughts.  I was startled to learn that it was worse that what I was seeing.  My heart broke even more.

I stepped out with the doctor and he asked what I was thinking.  I started to cry and said that I think she needs to be admitted to the pysch ward and if she doesn't agree, I will have her forcibly placed.

As a mother, this had to be one of the hardest decisions I had to make. 

I talked with her a bit about my decision and at first she was scared about how it would all work.  She then opened to the idea and agreed to go.

It was hard leaving her there but I also knew that she was safe.  That first night I slept so good knowing that she was safe.

The first few days were hard for her as she never liked sleeping away from home but as she got involved in the program, I began to see improvement.  She was there for about 5 days.  

We put a plan into place so that she could come home.  We learned to talk about things.  We worked with a counselor.  Her medication was adjusted.

I'm not saying that everything was perfect after that.  There have been some large bumps in the road but we have tools to deal with them.

Despite everything she was a straight A student.  She is bright, funny, and beautiful.

I am proud of my daughter.

How I Deal With It

I have written about my battle with depression many times.  I've written about the time I wanted to end my life.  

I write about it because I know there are others who feel the same and they feel alone.  I write to let them know they aren't alone.

I have been asked recently about how I deal with it.  I am asked if I am cured.  I am asked if I still have feelings of ending my life.

First, I don't believe that there will ever really be a cure for depression.  I've dealt with mine since I was about 14 or so.  There were factors that came into play that I don't really talk about.  It isn't because I'm embarrassed or I don't want to talk about them.  It's just that some of the factors have names and I don't feel angry or hatred towards them so I don't want anyone else judging them.  

Second, I deal with depression by recognizing my triggers and avoiding them.  Triggers could be memories of past trauma or even when I let my own head starts overthinking.  Sometimes I even see the "factors" of my past and I have to pretend that things didn't happen.

I also practice self care.  Practicing self care is a huge key in managing depression.  I have learned to immurse myself in creativity.  I use it as an outlet.  I create beautiful things and that makes me feel good.  I read.  I write.  I walk.  I take time outs for me.  I go to the lake and dip my toes.  

I've accepted myself for who I am and if others don't like me, that is their problem, not mine.  There are times when my own mind lies when I look in the mirror.  I hear that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable and so on.  Those lies are just echoes from my former self.  

And.... they are just lies.

I also have learned to accept love into my heart.  I don't mean a romantic love but a pure love from family and friends.  I surround myself with good people and I love them back. 

I've learned to ask for help.  There are numbers that I can call and talk to someone immediately.   I reach out to friends and family. 

Do I still have feelings of ending it all?

I haven't in a very long time.  I've made many changes to my life to ensure that it doesn't happen.  Sometimes I wonder if I will have a moment of irrational thought and that would be all it takes.

It was hard work learning to step back from that ledge.  It continues to be hard work.

But good things come from hard work.

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Semicolon

 

He saw my tattoo.

A butterfly with a subtle semicolon for a body.

The butterfly symbolizes a beautiful change.  

The semicolon is a symbol that means that an author could have ended a sentence and chose not to.  

The semicolon is now recognized as a symbol of affirmation and solidarity against suicide, depression and other mental health issues.  It inspires strength in the midst of suffering.

He saw my tattoo.  He noticed the semicolon fairly quickly.  I was surprised since many do not see that detail.  Especially a man...

He asked about it.  I am really open about how the tattoo came about.  I talk about how there was that one moment of irrational thought where I was really ready to end it.

The mental pain is hard to deal with and you just want it to stop.

He then shared his story.  We were in a room with so many people but it was like we were the only two people in the room.

He put his hand on my back and I could almost feel his energy, his pain, his suffering.  I could also feel his relief to be talking with someone who understands.  

Throughout the night he would come and stand next to me, touch my arm or my back.  He kept apologizing for it.  I told him that there is no need to apologize.

It is a great comfort to know that you are not alone and what you feel or what you are going through is hard. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month.

It is important every month but times are really tough lately with the damn virus and the world is all turned upside down.  It is especially hard on teens.  

Please be kind to one another.

You never know what battles someone is fighting.

A Walk Among the Dead

 

I walked among the dead today.  I always have found peace in an old cemetery.  The headstones bear witness to so many years of change.  Weather worn and broken, they are testimonials of those who have walked this earth and those who were loved.

When walking in this particular cemetery, I realized that many of the stones weren't any older that the last 1800's.

Sad really....

No flowers adorn them.  Not anything that tells us that these people are remembered any longer.

I touch the stones as if they would speak to me.  Wishing I could hear the voices of long ago.  

There were babies laid to rest.  There were spouses who were loved and cherished.  I didn't see anyone who was over the age of 67.

Times were hard then, harder than now. 

Looking online at the records for this cemetery told some stories of those who are buried here.

I wondered if I was the only one to visit these graves.  Are there others who come?

Often I wonder about my own mortality.  I am not afraid of death.  I had already died once.  Many have gone before me.

I am afraid of being buried.  My wishes are not to be left in a box in the ground.  Do not put a marker where I am.  Scatter my ashes to the wind and let me go.

I do not want to be left where no one will remember me.  I do not want my headstone to crumble.

Remember me as I am now.

A butterfly came to me as I was walking.  I stopped to watch it.  I felt a peaceful energy from it.  

The cemetery where I took these pictures is the Schoolcraft Cemetery in Calumet, MI.  

This was the first time that I had really walked around.

The following are just the pictures that I took.