It seems suicide is the ‘it’ topic lately. All three parties in the House of Commons are talking about it, CTV is talking about it all week. More and more kids seem to be killing themselves and more and more people seem to be taking notice and taking action.
It’s all a bit surreal for me. For me suicide has always been an issue. It whispers in my ear at my worst times, it sneaks up on me when I think I’m feeling okay.
The past few months have been a struggle. Everything seems to just pile up and nothing ever really moves forward. More often than not I feel like I’m failing at something or another. Work is still a bit up in the air, the kid having trouble sleeping and we don’t know why or how to make it better so she can be her normal self instead of this cranky mess. It feels like there’s constantly something hanging over me.
I am taking anti-depressants. As high a dose as I think I’ve ever been on, though maybe slightly lower. I’m getting exercise, though not as much as I’d like, I’m trying to eat better as always, but things slip. This morning, when the kid was up before dawn and refusing to go back to sleep, and I watched my husband struggle and my daughter struggle, and the whispers started.
My head tells me that I am in the way, that I am making it all worse when I’m trying to make it better and that it would be easier for everyone if I were to just walk away and disappear.
Never before had it crossed my mind to leave my daughter without me. I love her so much it hurts to even think of missing her life, but there I stood in my living room, feeling totally finished.
Even after years of experiencing this, years of sharing in more and more public platforms, as Joe drove me to work I was scared to tell him what the whispers were saying. Scared for him to see the darkest parts of me. This week we are celebrating our fourth anniversary and I didn’t want him to know that I am still capable of getting there.
All these years I’ve been a survivor, so what now?