10/08/2016 Tonight has been the hardest night of my life, baby girl, but I’m hopeful that in sacrificing this time apart from you I can become whole for you. I love you with my whole heart and I can’t wait ’till tomorrow when I can see your beautiful face and sweet sweet smile again. Love, mama 10/09/2016 I got to see you tonight. It was the highlight of my day. My mom got a few pictures of you printed for me so I could tape them up next to my bed. Hopefully it will help me sleep better. It’s funny how that works. I don’t get sleep when I’m with you but then I can’t sleep without you. The real work begins tomorrow. I’m nervous and a little scared, but I know I can do this. I need to do this for you. You deserve a mom. You deserve the whole world and more. I hope you’re getting good sleep, my love <3 Save a smile or two for me tomorrow. Love, mama
10/10/2016 Today’s theme was about managing emotions. Tough subject. Sometimes it’s hard to feel like I have a choice to accept the emotions I’m feeling when I need to be happy for you and your dad. You deserve true happiness though, baby. It’s kind of ironic because I had come across a quote right before I had you that I decided would be my mantra of sorts as your mom..”My baby doesn’t need a perfect mom, just a happy one”. …So much for that haha. But I’m working on it! Love, mama 10/12/2016 I couldn’t write last night. It was such a hard day and I didn’t feel like I had anything left to give or say. I got to see you today and you gave me the biggest smiles I’ve seen yet! They absolutely made my day, sweet girl. I’m so grateful to be your mom. I miss you so bad. Love, mama I stopped writing after the first four days. Things got overwhelming and I began to take in information rather than put out.
I entered the hospital wearing a mumu and flip flops which they exchanged for a pair of dark blue scrubs after a thorough body inspection to record all of my scratches and sores. I was placed in a room with a woman I didn’t know and in my vulnerable state I was diagnosed with social anxiety and placed in the observation room alone. It was quiet. After two nights I was put in a room of my own and I was given clothes of my own. It felt strange. I almost wanted to keep the scrubs on to make it feel more separate from my life, pretend it were a nightmare, or a dream. I began to get to know those nice people of 4 North. The patients would come and go, but I could anticipate the shifts of the people who worked there, the people I liked. After those first four or five days deeper emotions were brought to the surface with my psychologist and during one visit with my family and a talk with Grant I felt entirely hopeless. All I can remember is the driving urge to kill myself. I didn’t care anymore about my life with my husband or my daughter, they were better off without me. I went through the sealed doors and lied that I would be safe. I returned to my room as inconspicuously as possible and fought with my very being, my very existence. I determined that until I came to a decision I needed to release my anxiety in whatever way I could. I grabbed a small pencil and broke it, trying to use the shards to break my skin having minimal success. I then turned to a plastic toothbrush cap which I broke and played back and forth across my wrist. Relief. Now, understand. They send people down the halls to check on you every 15 minutes. There is no privacy and oh am I ever so grateful for that. A woman entered my room and found me on the floor crying. When asked if I was being safe I held out my hands with my weapons of choice and she took them. I wept. I want to break here and discuss cutting for a moment. I in no way feel like my actions were the correct choice if I were in the right state of mind. I in no way condone it and feel that those who are taking action in such a way have a more deep rooted trouble and should seek help from a loved one or better yet, a professional. Cutting is very misunderstood as something that emo kids do for fun, but the reality is much different in my experience. It was the physical demand on my body in response to the anxiety of suicidal urges. Do I like my scars? No. Am I proud of them? Not particularly. In fact, I was very good at hiding them for a long time when they were still tender.
I do not try to hide my scars now because they resemble all that I have fought to overcome. I figured people would ask me about them from time to time and I would share my story in a positive way, but not one person ever has. I think they scare people. After that incident I’ve fought in such a way one other time and it didn’t get too serious thank goodness. I don’t even feel like it was me. I look at my scars and though they are very much a part of me I feel a separation from them. I felt like that about a lot of things in the initial process of learning how to get better. It all felt undoable. My mind and my body were entirely out of sync and I didn’t know how to get it back. (I still am not quite there but I’m closer!) As people came and went I became an “old timer”. I had the same lessons multiple times of people skills, managing emotions, safety planning, and others. Each day was a different theme.
It wasn’t until the last 3 days that I got privileges to go with everyone to eat in the cafeteria. Those last few days was when I made the majority of my progress. I became more social and more open about sharing. I participated in the lessons and really tried to take everything to heart.
I didn’t know I was going home until a couple hours beforehand, but I remembered it scaring me. Taking all that I had learned and all my new coping skills and applying them in the real world seemed like a daunting task. At first when I got home it really was a change, but I felt a sense of renewal. I wasn’t fixed. I had a lot of work ahead of me, but I had hope and still do that I’ll be healed and I’ll feel whole.
Everyday is a choice for us. We choose what is most important to us in this life and we hold on. My family is my choice. My world. I know that because of my Heavenly Father’s plan I will be able to be with them forever and I won’t take that for granted.
I know what it’s like to lose faith, to be on the cusp of giving in to giving up. I’m glad I chose to fight because this life is worth it. Every sunny day, every one of my baby’s smiles, my husbands hugs… they’re what I live for.
