This is not some kind of a Hollywood fluff story.
It all started when I was divorced on 07/25/2014. I have been battling severe depression and anxiety with an occasional suicidal thought since then.
It came to a head on 07/02/2016 I had a started to feel it coming on strong – my depression.
When it comes on like a freight train I know I won’t be sleeping. 07/03/2016 it was really bad and overwhelming and constantly crying for no reason.
Around 1:00 pm on that day I had my first thoughts of committing suicide. Doing the typical things such as searching for ways to do it online.
Plus battling back and forth with myself if it was the right thing to do.
I don’t think I would ever let it go that far, but I was still having them nonetheless.
When I say I have suicidal thoughts it doesn’t necessarily mean I am going to kill myself.
Being suicidal is having this unexplainable ache while you’re living. It’s waiting for your life to end and wishing I didn’t have to carry on.
Having this ache and incapability to feel happy while living. This doesn’t mean I am going to kill myself. It just means I would not mind dying.
Around 9:00 PM that night I started getting scared that I was really getting ready to kill myself.
A good friend of mine (you know who you are) talked to me for a solid 2 hours trying to get me to call 911.
That friend finally got me talked into calling the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255).
The woman that got on the phone with me was extremely helpful, she called the local police in my hometown. And she called my sister-n-law to give her a heads up.
The police came and it was a man, a friend that I have known for most of my life. He talked to me and was making me feel a lot better too.
He, in turn, called my brother and asked him to come to my house. When my brother arrived he and the cop talked and it was decided to ask me if I would be willing to go to the hospital in Morehead, KY.
There is a difference between wanting to kill me and wanting to kill the part of you that wants you to kill yourself.
Suicide: that word catches your attention, right? The truth is suicide catches everyone’s attention. But it’s the actions leading up to suicide that goes unnoticed.
When I arrived at the hospital it was 11:30 PM and I was put in the ER and into a gown and I had to wait for someone upstairs to come and evaluate me.
They finally admitted me about 05:30 AM the following morning. When I got upstairs the nurses were amazing and friendly.
I really didn’t want to kill myself, but sometimes it feels like it doesn’t matter if I am alive or not. Does this mean I’m suicidal?