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I leave the house, head to Mass and make my apologies, tears streaming down my face from beneath my veil. My plan is to leave Mass, find somewhere that I can do it and then end it. Perhaps it is the graces of receiving the Holy Eucharist, but I find that I cannot do it quite so easily as I thought. I had not planned to actually go to the program today, but I find myself in the parking lot before I know it. I go inside, sign in, put my insulated back (with my means inside it) in the refrigerator and go back to the main group room. As I begin my daily assessment, I feel as though I am visibly shaking, so I take my rosary out of my purse and hold it in my hand. I am not praying, but something about holding my rosary calms me enough that I can pick up my pen and actually fill in the assessment form.
The morning passes by with more of the same educational group sessions and a mid-morning break for coffee and a trip to the bathroom. The feelings I have been having have intensified and I am struggling something horrible. I don't know what to do, so I do the first thing that pops into my mind. I pull out my phone and text Gray. I tell him that I am struggling something horrible and that I don't know that I can do this. I don't tell him what I have been planning or thinking about. Gray suggests that I talk privately with Samantha and tell her my concerns about it being the same information and my fears that it won't help since I've already gone through the program. I tell him I might do that. Then I get on Facebook and send Chez a message to ask him to pray for me. I tell him that I am struggling with wanting to keep on with this program (true, but not the whole truth) and that I have had thoughts of suicide. He says he will definitely pray for me and even goes as far as to type out a prayer over Facebook message. I read it and feel some strength from it.
I continue to struggle throughout the day and hold onto my rosary (which I have kept in my pocket) whenever it is the hardest. I am mostly quiet throughout the day. I only speak when I really must to read aloud from the Big Book or when asked a question directly. I am afraid to speak much for fear of breaking down into a puddle of tears in front of everyone in the group. I don't leave at lunch, although I am very tempted by the contents of my insulated bag. I finally come to a decision toward the end of the day and I can only attribute it to both Gray's and Chez's prayers and possibly a hard shove from my Guardian Angel. I have decided to talk to Samantha and tell her everything that I've been thinking and feeling all day. Everything. I am scared out of my mind and as I ask her if we can talk for a bit after everyone has been dismissed for the day, I clutch my rosary tighter in my pocket. She agrees and we meet about five minutes later in the main group room.
I am not totally sure exactly how to begin such a confession, but somehow I manage to tell her that I have been struggling through most of the day. She says that she noticed me holding onto my rosary and wondered if I was. She also says that she noticed how quiet and withdrawn I was today and figured that I had something on my mind. Then it is my turn to tell her what has been on my mind. "I've been struggling with suicidal thoughts," I blurt out all at once and exhale shakily. Over the course of the next several minutes, I manage to get the rest of the story out, telling her about last night and this morning and my messages to Gray and Chez. She listens and responds that she is sorry to hear I've been struggling so much but that she's so glad that I told her how I've been feeling. Then we make an oral contract. She asks me to promise that I will stay safe tonight, that I will sit down with Gray and tell him everything I've just told her, and that I will come back to the program tomorrow. I have no problem with any of these and I promise her that I will do all three things. Something about just getting it out in the open has eased the knot in my chest a bit and I feel braver and decide that I want the means that I have with me gone. I don't want them in my possession anymore because I know that having them at the ready may increase the temptation to act on these horrific thoughts. I am thinking more clearly in this moment than I have in several days. I tell her that I would like to give her my means to dispose of because I don't want them anymore. It is both to get rid of them and a good faith gesture to let her know that I trust her and that I mean business and want to do my best to recover. Samantha says that we can dispose of them together and she'll stand by my side as I do it. She asks if I have them in my car and I tell her that I have them in my lunch bag. Her eyebrows raise a little bit in surprise but then she recovers and says, "Let's do it then. We can use the staff bathroom so we can lock the door and no one will walk in on us." I nod and go to get the bag. As we walk down the hall to the staff bathroom, I feel myself trembling and am afraid that I am going to drop the lunch bag, but soon we are there and I sit it on the edge of the sink. We flush the pills and the vanilla infused vodka that was on its way to becoming homemade vanilla extract. I keep the xacto blade because it is not mine to get rid of as it belongs to Gray and is what he uses for a hobby knife. I promise her that as part of my talking to Gray that night that I will give it back to him. She agrees that this is fine, so I tuck it back in my lunch bag and we stand talking for a bit longer as I wash and dry my hands.
We exit the bathroom, still talking in a more lighthearted way as we go down the hall and back towards the main room where we were. I suddenly realise that I feel more lighthearted. The very act of getting all of this out in the open and disposing of my means of self-destruction has served to lift something off of me. I won't say that I am just bouncing off the walls happy, but I definitely feel less depressed and more hopeful that maybe this program can work again. I even feel something I haven't felt in a number of months.....really and truly...hungry. We say goodbye and see you tomorrow as we get closer to her office. I gather my things and grab a soda and some chips from the snack machine to munch on in transit. As I drive home, I notice that the sun seems a brighter yellow and the sky a clearer blue. There seems to be something else....a light at the end of the tunnel.
You are strong beyond words. xxxx
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing your personal story. I am thankful that you are here and telling your story to us today. I'm praising God, who always provides us with the help we need.
ReplyDeleteA 31 Dayer
I am really being inspired by reading your story. How wonderful it is that the prayers of your friend and your ability to unload got you through that day. Blessings!
ReplyDeleteWow! So thankful that you are being brave enough to tell us your story. I'm thankful Samantha was there for you to talk to and thankful for Gray and Chez's prayers that day as well. So glad that you began to see light at the end of the tunnel. Can't wait to see where tomorrow's post takes you and us your readers.
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing this - I've been close to where you are and I understand something of the awfulness of the two realities pulling at you. I am so glad you made it to the program that day and spoke with Samantha. I look forward to reading more of your story.
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