What They Don't Know

Yesterday was my 30th birthday. A day I had long been dreading. A bittersweet day to have been alive. You see I suffer from depression. Though my friends and family knew I was having a hard time recently, no one really knew how bad it had gotten. A few weeks ago as I laid in my bed crying, listening to my children play in the other room, I made the decision. I was going to take my own life. I was going to end this suffering that has haunted my family for far too long. They deserve to be happy. But how could they ever be happy when they have a mother who is always depressed?

So I started planning. I took note of the times my husband would leave and come home. Took note of how quickly my husband would fall asleep on an average day. As well as when my kids would fall asleep. I looked up different methods, how long it would take for me to die. Whether or not it would be noisy and risk waking someone in the house. I scheduled individual text messages to be sent to those I love on the following morning. I made a video for each of my kids to see when they were older. So they could remember my face and my voice. I wrote a letter for each of my kids to open the day they graduate, the day they got married, and the day they had their first child. I hid letters for my husband to find throughout the house. I made a video for my husband to watch after all was said and done.

I was ready. I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. I was looking forward to it. I knew that on that day I would finally be rid of the pain that has tormented me and my family for so long. I would be free again. But something happened that I wasn’t counting on. People noticed I was hurting. And instead of shrugging it off like normal, they offered love and support. I was getting messages non-stop. Asking how I was doing that day. Reminding me I was not alone, that they were there if I ever needed someone to talk to. I was told I was loved and needed. And I started to wonder if maybe I was making a mistake.

I continued with my plans, making sure that every last detail was perfect. I couldn’t afford to make any miscalculations, I couldn’t give anyone the chance to stop me. I laid in bed on Saturday night, my heart heavy and tears in my eyes. I checked my phone one last time to make sure my messages were scheduled for the right time and that I had not forgotten anyone. I looked over at my husband who was passed out next to me. I kissed him and apologized before turning and going to sleep. I had plans for the morning. I ended up waking up hours ahead of time. I reached to pull the blanket over me more. As I did I grabbed a tiny shirt my daughter had left on my bed. I looked at it for a moment and held it close. It still smelled just like her.

Suddenly my head was full of memories. Her smiling face, the sound of her laugh, and then it became memories of each of my kids. My heart shattered, I could not imagine never being able to hear their laugh again or see their smiling faces. I couldn’t imagine not being able to melt into my husband's arms every day when he got home from work. Then I realized, these people, the ones I felt I was hurting so much with my depression. They are my lifeline, they are my support, they are the very thing I have been clinging to all this time. The reason I am alive. Each one of them plays an important role in my life, and in turn, I play an important role in theirs. I am needed. I am loved. My life is worth living.

So I grabbed my phone and deleted the videos, deleted the scheduled messages, deleted the letters I had written to everyone. When I was done I laid back in bed and curled up next to my husband as I made a promise to myself that no matter how bad things got I would overcome it. So I continued the day much like normal. With each birthday wish I received feeling more like a thank you for being alive. A dear friend of mine told me recently "change is the only constant in life, the pain you are in can not last forever."

If you are struggling please find someone you feel safe talking to. You are not alone.