From 3:10 to 3:30 every other day, I have duty. I stand by the front gate to make sure students don’t leave early and ask if they have passes from the classes they are supposed to be in. (Often they don’t.)
During this time, I’ll check out the milkweed to see if their are any Monarch butterfly caterpillars on them. Then I’ll cruise through social media. Today I got some bad news: a friend died.
When I read it, I couldn’t believe it. She and I weren’t super close. We used to hang out, but that was a few years ago. We stayed loosely connected through social media. But remembering back to when she was a presence in my life, I remember a luminous being. Something about her glowed.
I scrolled more frantically to try to find out what happened. I Googled to see if there was any news of fatal accidents and the like. Few details came forth which led me to a deduction. In my experience if no one is talking about the cause of death it’s due to one of two things: suicide or murder. Considering no news stories, I guessed the former.
I was right.
One of my super powers is driving while crying. I got a lot of practice driving to my research site for my Masters’ thesis after separating from my ex-. I got some more practice driving home from work today.
…
Monday I had a consult with a psychotherapist. I’ve been thinking about going back to counseling for about 6 months. I’d be low, then I’d feel better.
What finally triggered me going was a cancelled date for Renaissance faire. Might sound silly, but I LOVE Renaissance faire. I reached out to friends through Facebook a couple of times to go. The first time, people were otherwise committed for the weekend. The second time, I set a hard date with a friend. The day before we were supposed to go, my friend looked at finances a little more and had to back out. A totally legit reason for doing so! And normally, I’d go by myself.
But I’d been struggling emotionally for about 6 months…
After it was clear my friend couldn’t go, I cried the rest of the the night. Literally. Tears streamed down my face. I played a puzzle game on my phone while the tears flowed, getting my blankies wet as I lay in bed.
That was the final straw. I knew I had to go back to counseling.
I stopped going to counseling back in 2014. After being in counseling for nearly five years, I felt strong. I had seen real improvement in my confidence and communication. I felt I’d mostly healed from my divorce. I felt healed from the grief of my grandpa and dad dying. I felt ready to graduate from group.
It’s been five years since then. I know I’m stronger than I was when I first started counseling right after my ex- and I separated. I feel the difference. But I also know I’m in a place I can’t get out of on my own. I’ve been feeling lost. Out of place. Isolated. Lonely. Raw. Unheard. Unappreciated. Cranky.
Sometimes people say I’m awesome for writing a blog. Or riding my bike 500 miles around the Gaspé Peninsula. Or roller skating at 40 years of age. Or earning a Ph.D. Or that I went to counseling to heal after my divorce.
It definitely says something about me that I don’t think any of that is all that special. My response is usually, “anyone could do it” (or the equivalent). Or “everyone does their own special things.”
But my friend killed herself today. While she otherwise seemed to be living her best life (at least through the lens of social media, which of course can be incredibly fickle), she never asked for help. And her friends and family felt uncomfortable mentioning how she died on social media.
That’s why I write this blog. I really do think anyone can do the things I do, or their own awesome variation of it. Sure I share my happy stuff. But I also try to share the less-than-happy stuff.
For anyone who thinks I’m a badass, for whatever reason they think so, I want you to know that I struggle. I want you to know that I have to assess my mental health, and if I’m in a funk for too long, I have to ask for help.
Anyone who knows me well knows how much I suck at this. I might be a smidge better than I once was, but I have had to fight severe mental hurdles of being a failure for asking for help. I still make sure I really, really need help before asking for most things. But when it comes down to it, I do it.
I’ve learned I can’t help others if I’m not healthy. And right now I’m borderline at that place.
And I want you to know that if you are there with me, or you are in an even darker place, there is light. Hell, you are the light for someone. But the reality is you have to burn for yourself.
If all you have is a flicker, and you feel like it might just be easier to let it go out, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255 .
Please.
Your loved ones deserve it.
The world deserves it.
But most importantly, you deserve it.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255