*Disclosure: I am writing this during Sunday School and church service but I am still listening.*
This is a bathroom. It isn’t fancy it is just a bathroom it has a toilet, sink and a mirror. It has a little bit of decorations old beige tiles the grout is stained the white walls are old with paint chipping off in places but this little bathroom saved my life. It only seems fit to tell you that this is one of the bathrooms at our church and in this very bathroom I tried to hang myself with my sweater after I took a bunch of Xanax. When you are fluffy like me trying to hang yourself is a bit more difficult especially in a bathroom with nothing to hang from but when you are high on pills you can become creative so I used the doorknob. It was a random day the church was open with no one around. (They don’t do that much anymore.) I was so numb, suicidal and my brain kept reminding me what a piece of shit I was, an inconvenience to everyone around me. When you are suicidal you go to this place and once you are there it is so hard to get out of but my heart told me to go to the church. It just happened to be open so I went in the bathroom and sat there for the longest time and just cried. I think everything built up so high that crying was the only thing I could do to knock it down, but it still didn’t work so I reached in my pocket for the few Xanax I stashed away staring at them mostly because I was high but realistically because I thought this is it these 3 Xanax are going to be what does me in. I dry swallowed them and I could feel the pain as they scratched their way down my throat. I sat for what felt like hours and nothing happened (It wasn’t hours) I was ready for it to be over with I don’t know what was taking so long then I decided to help the process. I took off my sweater wrapped it around my neck and then wrapped it around the doorknob and pulled until it was tight enough. I remember laying there saying the Lords Prayer asking for his forgiveness knowing I wasn’t worthy of any of it but just as I felt like I was drifting away I heard a voice and I wish I could remember what it said or what it is more than likely it was the hallucinations or schizophrenia but I like to believe it was God. I don’t know how I survived that day but I believe that He is the reason I am here doing this and spreading the word about how you can survive this too.
*This situation did happen but parts were changed to for privacy reasons however if these individuals keep running their mouths about all of it. I will put the truth out there with screenshots to match. *
I will start with this and even as conceded as it sounds it is the truth. I was not meant to live an ordinary life and I honestly haven’t. I was never meant to work a 9-5 and have a simple life. There were gifts given to me writing and this illness. This illness is a struggle everyday but I found my voice to help others and so here I am in the early morning hours so excited to get this started. I know there will be a piece of me in every topic that hurts to remember even the terrible horrible awful thing I’ve mentioned before (but that one may take a bit longer to write.) I also know that this can change my entire life but I am willing to risk it. When I talk about people unless it is my husband or Tater they won’t be assigned a name or a gender. It is to protect those people even if I feel like they don’t need to be protected. I may quote people that will make you stop reading or not be able to take me seriously, but sometimes these quotes sit well with me for different reasons. There is a method to my madness and I hope you can follow along.
These aren’t in any particular order some of them randomly appear as they come to mind. There is so much I want to say and putting it all in words is hard. I know it might anger or upset someone but you have to remember that if it isn’t “what you think happened” it’s all a matter of perspective. There are parts of my life that I remember and pictures to go with it but there are parts I tried to forget but I will talk about those too and whether you like it or not you are all about to become my therapist. I am hoping doing this will help the fucked up dreams I’m having.
I feel like my mind is trying to tell me something, but I can’t figure out what it is.
“But the more I wrote, the more I understood myself and why I had made the choices I made, and that was the real jackpot. I learned that dreams don’t work without action; I learned that no one could stop me but me. I learned that love is stronger than hate. And most important, I learned that God does exist. He and/or She is right inside you, underneath the pain, the sorrow, and the shame.” Roseanne