My writing is in a notebook currently and I’ve mixed journal entries and chapters. I just realized I’d failed to include the complete entry for 12/10, so here it is.
My husband opened up to a friend about what he’s been going through. I asked if he’d told everything. He said, “Yeah, the whole thing. My wife was already depressed and then she went over the edge, planned her suicide. I would’ve found her when I got home from work the Monday before Thanksgiving. Yeah, I spilled it all.”
I thought to myself, “Wow, hearing him say it aloud, I really sound like an asshole.” I also felt a twinge of embarrassment at someone knowing. Figure I gotta get over that if anybody is going to read this.
I’m still giving a lot of thought to whether or not to actually publish this. I’m pretty sure I’m going to because I want to make it easier to talk about. I have to start with myself. I practiced yesterday. I was standing in the street out in front of my house because that’s the only place I could get unobstructed sunshine. I stood next to the neighborhood mailboxes with my coffee cup in one hand, my face turned up to the bright blue sky, soaking up some vitamin D. It felt so good. My neighbor, and friend, brought out two chairs and blankets. Even with the full sun, the temperature was probably in the 30’s. She set up the chairs, handed me a blanket, and we sat together. I decided I was going to use the opportunity to say out loud that I was suicidal. It was hard and I cried. Another neighbor saw us out her window and joined us. The conversation turned to lighter topics. I was relieved. I wiped my tears, blew my nose, and made my exit, or should I say entrance since I went into my house?
I’m going to wait a while before I try again. It’s difficult and stirs up all the emotions. I’m trying to even out and work my way up out of this deep hole of darkness, so I need to get stronger and give it more time before I try to talk about it conversationally, for sure.
Wow. What great neighbors Sara. You are strong. It takes a lot of courage to talk about it. I felt suicidal when I was 15. Took an overdose of Tylenol. Never told anyone until years later. My son Jared attempted suicide when he was 17. Was hospitalized and was in 2 different treatment centers. Both of us was situational depression. I had been raped(which no adult knew about). Lately though I feel the emptiness, drained, no more to give. I am calling my doctor this week. Thank you Sara. Love Debbie Martin
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I had no idea what you’ve been through. I’m so glad you’re making an appointment. ❤
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