I stood at the patio door and stared into the distance, my hands leaving sweaty prints on the glass. The space between the door and railing was empty and then there was nothing but air between me and the ground seven stories down. Eight if you included the slope to the basement. Seven or eight stories down to concrete or the dumpster if I aimed well enough. And in that case they wouldn’t have to do anything with me at all, just take me away with the trash. That’s all I was, wasn’t I?
I backed away carefully. Was it far enough of a drop? I figured it was but what if it wasn’t? I didn’t want to end up a quadriplegic, unable to try again.
Was it or wasn’t it?
My mind flipped between the two as I sat down to write a rambling note on Facebook. Within half an hour my sister was on her way to pick me up and take me to the hospital. Within four hours I had a diagnosis and a psychiatrist. Then I went to my parents’ house to stay safe for a week.
I’ve been admitted to the hospital around four or five times since then, luckily not in the past year, and take enough pills each day that I’m surprised I don’t rattle. I still struggle daily with anxiety. Some days I can’t make it out of the house. Some days I panic in the grocery store. And I have down weeks where I struggle to keep up with the chores and make semi regular meals. Everything seems too much. English muffins get turned into a meal far too often and, even then, they seem so complicated. I’ll stand in the kitchen, near tears, hoping the muffin will be toasted soon so I can scurry back to my room. And did I turn on the microwave for hot chocolate? Maybe… maybe not… and a five minute chore turns into a half hour.
September is National Suicide Prevention Month and today is National Suicide Prevention Day and I want to tell you something. Depression lies. It lies hard and it lies deep, hitting at every sore spot it can. It tells you that you’re worthless, that no one cares, you don’t matter, you’ll never matter, no one will ever love you, you’re ugly, stupid, lazy. Meanwhile it’s the one that’s lazy because it tells those same lies to everyone. It’s not just you. I honestly felt the same way too. I didn’t think my family cared. Meanwhile I’d been pulling away from them and they thought I didn’t care.
Reach out for help. There is help available. Check my resources page above for phone numbers and websites. Go to your local PFLAG meeting for community. And go to your ER if you are at the end of your rope and just can’t manage any longer. It will be a long and boring wait but they’ll have staff there to help you.
Be honest with your friends. You’ll be surprised by how many of them are suffering themselves and are looking for someone to talk to. You’ll be surprised by how much support you can get.
You are valuable. You are important. You are worth it. You matter.
Save a life today. Save yours.
Because I'm Fabulous 
I struggle with depression and anxiety too… in fact, your paragraph about sometimes not making it out of the house, having panic attacks at the grocery store, and barely managing chores and regular meals, could also describe me. I tried to go to Trader Joe’s today and I had to leave without buying anything because I just couldn’t handle it. I had to get home and pet my dog to calm myself down! Thanks for sharing this.
You’re welcome. Pets make such a difference.