So Long, Age 34! P.S. It's Okay to Ask For Help

  Today is my last day as a 34 year old.  I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and this subject has been weighing on my mind and heart.  I wanted to share this personal story not to seek attention or sympathy, but to hope that I help someone who is struggling.  I've been seeing a lot of news about suicides and attempted suicides which breaks my heart, and this year I became more active in suicide prevention and mental health awareness. During my 35th year of life, I hope to continue to help and be more involved. This is where I'm starting...here is my story.

  Please bear with me as I've written and deleted this a hundred times because I wasn't ready. This is me not holding back...and a lot of those close to me probably don't know this side of me or didn't realize how deep it ran. Here I go...

  I've known/lost three people to suicide, and I've known people who have lost loved ones to suicide.  The hardest one for me to deal with was my father, who took his life September 16, 2002. I remember the day I found out like it was yesterday. It was Tuesday September 17th. I was a freshman at Ball State, just returning to my dorm from my morning math class. I was wearing a green long sleeved top, jean skirt, and brown sandals. I sat my book bag down, picked up my Nokia cell phone, and called my grandmother as it was her birthday. We were catching up on how school was and life, and little did I know my grandmother already knew about my dad, but was told not to say anything as my mom, stepdad, sister Carrie, and newborn Drake were on their way down. During my conversation with my grandma I could hear in her voice there was something wrong, but she always worried about us and wanted to make sure we were ok. I remember hanging up and looking at my college roommate stating how overly nice my grandma was. (Oh hush, you know what I mean! She was always nice but I felt an extra dose of it in our conversation)  Not long after the phone call, I hear the buzz of my dorm room. It was Carrie, letting me know she was downstairs in the lobby. I had visitors! I ran to the elevator excited to see my family. I ran out to hug them, was smiling and laughing not noticing they were all in tears. That's when I was told...my father died. Not only did he die, he took his life. I remember collapsing to the ground, not wanting to believe what I was being told.  I wanted this moment to be a nightmare that I would wake up from, but it wasn't. This was the beginning of my struggle.

  I didn't take much time to grieve. I wanted to be "strong" and push through the pain. I went back to school while my support system lived three hours away. I started to drink to numb the pain, spend money on pointless, material things because I felt I deserved them for dealing with this loss, and I would seek comfort in men to fill the void I had in my heart. I still hurt...I felt worthless...I felt that I wasn't worth loving, that my dad didn't love me enough to fight whatever demons he was fighting...I felt weak. I didn't want to fight anymore. I didn't want to cry. I was a burden to my friends and roommate at Ball State...they were trying to enjoy college, and here I was a big ball of disaster. They tried to comfort me, but didn't know what to say or do. I went to a counselor in hopes for help, but the response I got was, "Wow. You've really been through a lot." No shit! Why do you think I am here?! I came to my breaking point....I wanted to die.

  I was in my dorm room alone, intoxicated by a half bottle of vodka. I was ready to go...I had the blade against my wrist, ready to be released from this pain. Then, as if someone told me to, I looked up in the mirror, and froze.  The reflection staring back at me was a girl in pain because someone she loved killed himself. What the hell was I about to do to my family & loved ones? I dropped to my knees, begging God for forgiveness.  Although I was drunk, what I felt was crystal clear. After that, I promised myself to not go down this path again.

  Piece of cake right? I had a moment of clarity, so this journey would be easy, right? WRONG! Over the past 15 years, I have learned that my dad dealt with depression, but never showed it to me (that is until I realized his cry for help too late, which I sometimes still hate myself for)  Every failed relationship I had I convinced myself that I would never find a man who loved me, if my father didn't love me enough to live.  I never tried to harm myself, but that didn't mean I prayed for God to take me...to let a car hit me, to call me Home in my sleep, or whatever type of premature death you could think of.

  I remember thinking asking for help was a sign of weakness...boy, I've learned quickly that it is quite the opposite. I do ask for it still to this day because I do have dark days.  This year especially, for some reason, I have felt empty and like a blank space. I've cried a lot, mostly when I'm alone. I haven't felt like myself, and definitely haven't felt happy. I've done my best to put a smile on my face and to keep up with my peppy attitude. I've been working like crazy just so I don't have time to sit and think that I feel like nothing. I've become this insane shopaholoic just to feel beautiful. It's almost as if I am starting to fall back into the deadly combinations of coping, but fortunately I don't drink because of one of my jobs. Still...scary in the direction I am heading...this is when asking for help comes in...IT'S OK TO ASK FOR HELP!

  If you've read to this point...thank you. Seriously, thank you for caring enough to get to this point or if you are struggling with darkness and hoping to relate...please know, I am here for you. I'm here to listen, to talk, to cheer you to the light. Don't think asking for help is a bad thing...it's really a beautiful moment when you realize you need help because it means you WANT to get better. You WANT to be happy. You WANT to be here.

 As I near the age of 35 I hope to accomplish a lot...get out of debt, be more involved with suicide prevention and mental health awareness, give back to my community, and make a difference. I hope I did something for someone out there for sharing my story. Thank you again for taking the time to read my ramblings. I know I may not make sense at some parts (I promise it made sense in my head). Please remember you are loved, you are awesome, and you are enough <3

Comments

  1. Shashe, there are a lot of things you don't know about me, you may know a little but you really don't know. I AM here for you, you can't run, you can't hide. No one else can fix it. There really is no fix, and as a very cruel woman has said to me on many occasions to "get my meds upped" on the occasions I have tried to confront my demons there are some people that are not who you need to talk to. Help yourself first. Find friends in those who have the same experiences. You can do this! You have a wonderful husband, you really do, sisters that love you more than you know... and we can help you sell that extra stuff on ebay ;)

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