Trigger Warning: Suicide

The shame I hold onto about this part of my testimony is heavy and covered in guilt. But the more I celebrate my life, the more I want to open up about this so that hopefully God can use my ashes for His beautiful purpose.

Here I sit at Lake Nockamixon, it’s 32 degrees and extremely windy, but the sun is shining on my tear soaked face, the seagulls are singing, and Rescue by Lauren Daigle is playing in my ears.

When I was 20 I tried to kill myself.

I wanted to end it. End everything. End the pain and the depression and the anxiety. End the frustration. End the never ending struggle. But more than that I would have ended moments like this one. Sunshine on my face looking out over the lake. I would have ended coffee dates with my mom. I would have ended heart to heart talks with my dad. I would have never seen my brother graduate college as valedictorian. I never would have poured into my youth kids who mean the absolute world to me. I would have ended the possibility of ever meeting Josh and beginning this immaculately designed chapter of my life. I would have ended any possibility of the Lord using me for His purpose. In the blink of an eye I would have ended every single thing that I hold so valuable.

I was desperate and numb and in searing pain all at once and I thought my only option was to kill myself. I thought the only option was to give up. To give up ever having a future. As I write this I vividly remember the amount of emotional and physical and spiritual pain I was in. I remember throwing myself on my bedroom floor shaking uncontrollably, sobbing and screaming for God to take the pain away, take away the pain from my disease, take away my depression and anxiety. I was shrieking. I was done. I hit rock bottom. I couldn’t imagine continuing to live one more second.

I am grateful for the nurses and doctors that took care of me at the hospital that night and the next day. I am grateful for the security guard that was posted at my door and didn’t take his eyes off me. I am grateful to the nurse filled with compassion and warmth who didn’t treat me like an insane person, she kept me company and brought me heated blankets, I don’t remember her name but I am grateful to her for treating me like a person. I am grateful for the support from my coordinator and therapists. I am grateful to my mom who never ceased praying, never ceased crying out to God, even in the midst of her agony, and the fear of losing me. She never ceased praying. She was my rock when I couldn’t stand on my own. She fought for me when I couldn’t care less.

Suicide doesn’t just end the bad stuff, it doesn’t just end the pain. In fact it causes pain, intense unmeasurable amounts of pain. Suicide ends all of the good things and any good thing that’s to come. It ends more than just a life. Praise the Lord I am alive. I am experiencing what it means to actually be alive. I will not let my depression and anxiety win. This will not steal my joy. I refuse to fall victim to my mental illness.

I have way too much to live for.



My Island

There is $0.41 in my bank account right now.

I’m at my wits end. It’s been one thing after another. It’s the never ending medical bills. The having to be out of work for a week because I got my neck cut open. It’s the two car payments. It’s the client telling me to take the week off. It’s the threat that I’m going to be sued by the guy who hit me and that I should lawyer up. It’s taking care of everyone else all day long nonstop and then coming home and sitting in a room where I’m surrounded by dirty laundry and mugs that need to be washed. It’s the hallow feeling inside. The lump in my throat. The anxiety and the depression. It’s nothing yet it’s everything at once.

I’m shaking and terrified. I’m on an island of quick sand sinking faster and faster as gigantic scary waves bigger than life come at me from all sides. Even if someone came to rescue me in a helicopter with a long rope I don’t know if I’d grab on. I’m at that point where I’d be okay if everything swallowed me alive because I’m so exhausted I don’t know how I can keep doing this.

Everything was going so well. I wasn’t living paycheck to paycheck for the first time in years. I quit my terrible job and started a company where I was the boss. I had an awesome savings account built up. I was driving a nice car – my first car – my baby. I was feeling okay with life for the first time in a very long time. And then everything hit at once. Literally and figuratively. It was an explosion of sheer panic and nervous laughter.

The past six months have been pain on top of agony on top of disaster. I don’t know how to fix it. I’m in constant panic mode. I’m trying to please everyone yet I’m sinking further and further into a depression I’m not so sure I will be able to get out of this time.

And trust me…I know…cry out to God and He will hold me and comfort me. But I’m too embarrassed to even walk towards Him right now. I’m too weak to try to fix my faith walk. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to go. My parents and my brother have their own struggles right now without me crawling to them asking them for whatever help they could offer. And it’s not their fault. They each have their own island, their own quick sand, their own huge scary waves.

So I will sit here surrounded by dirty laundry and mugs that need to be washed pondering why I can’t just take control of life and handle things like an adult. And I will cry. And hyperventilate. And hope I will be able to fall asleep despite the fight going on inside of me.

Recovery, etc.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my hospital, but I really love HUP because they understand everything I’ve been through and don’t treat me like I’m four years old. I’m irritated and exhausted and the pain in currently getting to me, so I’m gonna rant for a little bit before I delve into the details.

The unpleasantness of yesterday was filled with the IV not going in, the nurse hit a valve in my vein, had to bring the whole IV team in, they finally found a spot but it took awhile for the vein they hit the valve in to stop bleeding. They also put a lovely sharp needle right into my belly. My nurse was rude and impatient, she could not have cared less I had been fasting for over 16 hours and being stuck with a million needles was causing me irritation. She was even worse during post op. They sliced open my neck…of course I’ll be in pain. And they ignored my allergy list and gave me Vicodin. They almost sent me home with a prescription for Vicodin too! Then they got pissed off when I questioned what pain medication they were giving me after I explicitly stated Percocet numerous times. Two nurses had a loud argument with each other directly over my bed.

I requested my favorite nurse and needle lady Sue to help me out from there on. She was great and sweet as always.

The 18 year old PA was an incompetent moron who tried to explain how my allergic reaction to Vicodin was a “one time fluke” even though it’s happened all five times I’ve had it. He didn’t know how to explain that, refused to believe it’s an allergy and then denied me going on Percocet. So I had him call my surgeon. He returned to my room with his tail between his legs and handed me a script for Percocet. I don’t know what’s so hard about reading a chart, or seeing the wrist bands on my arm that say “ALLERGY” and “LATEX ALLERGY”.

There were a few minor complications so the surgery ended up being three hours long with two hours post op in the recovery room. The surgeons added a week to my recovery time so instead of bed rest for one week they want bed rest for two weeks. I’m not a happy camper. BUT it could be worse because they decided to not put a drain in my neck! Praise GOD! I have a fever right now, and if it goes any higher we have to call the doctors. So prayers for that would be great.

I’m already bored and I’ve only been home for 17 hours. I’ve been sleeping most of the time. It’s painful to move, cough, breathe, and swallow. I’m drinking plenty of fluids, water, watered down apple juice, and coffee. Mom’s gonna pick up ice cream and mix it with almond milk for me later so I can have a milkshake. Hopefully I can swallow that without too much pain.

Zack’s clutch blew in the Subaru so it’s been a huge praise he can drive my car until he fixes his car! So yay for that!

I have requested no one contact me, call me, text me, message me, email me, or smoke signal me. My mom has her phone on her, is very educated, and is up to date on my current situation. I’m also not allowed to talk for a few days – doctors orders, it could mean I ruin my vocal chords for life. No offense, I have received a bunch of requests for visits but I’m in a ton of pain and I’m sleeping a lot.

Also thank you to those who have sent flowers, thoughts, prayers, and comforting words. It is truly appreciated and I am very grateful.