Well, with a thoroughly thought out plan in mind, yesterday I decided that today was the day to kill myself. I was in such pain and misery, that death seemed like it would be the ultimate relief.
The plan was to take my entire bottle of pain medication all at once while my mother was at work (the one person who has always loved and supported me, and the person I still live with at 23 because I'm on Disability).
Death seemed to me like such a beautiful way to end things. After all, I had cheated death five years ago when my abusive father tried to kill my sister and I, and when I hopped on a plane to come live with my poor mother out of state (though wonderful person she was, was on wellfare and nearly homeless).
In doing that, I lost everything I myself had earned and worked so hard for in my teen years. All was gone, because I had nowhere else to go to escape my terrifying father. I knew there was no going back after I stood up to him and saved my sister's life.
Well, after losing my job, car, college scholarship, all my money, clothes and personal belongings, not to mention being torn away from my best friend and high school that I loved, I was at rock bottom at the age of 17. I feel like, after losing so much, and that along with the years of horrifying abuse at the hands of my father, that I had died inside.
That is when the depression overcame me. I've limped on ever since. Though the depression and PTSD symptoms have come and gone over the last 5 yrs, even going away enough for me to work at a bank for 4 yrs, this last year has been completely disabling. The Post Traumatic Stress and Depression has come down on my like the wrath of God.
So, last night I came to the conclusion to just end it. But this morning something changed…my mother, smiling and joyful as she always is in the morning, came in and gave me a huge hug and a kiss…told me she loved me more than anything in the world, and then strode off to work. I began to cry. How could I do this to her? I knew she would be in inexplicable pain if I took my own life…
The thought then hit me…I wasn't going to stay alive because I loved myself, or even cared about myself, but I was going to stay alive because I loved my mother, and my friends, and my best friend a state's distance away so much that I couldn't hurt them by hurting myself. I knew it would devastate all of them. So I couldn't do it…so as hokey and cliche' as this might sound…Love is keeping me alive right now…And somehow I know I'm stronger because of it.