To celebrate turning 40, I’ve challenged myself to blog for each of the 40 days leading into my birthday. This is post number 9. You can read all the posts here.
I had a friend who’d tried to take her life when she was younger and I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
‘But, what about everyone who loved you. Weren’t you thinking of them?’
‘Kel, when you’re at the point of committing suicide, you’re not thinking about anyone but yourself and finally putting an end to the pain you’re in.’
Not long after my fourth miscarriage, I was meandering around the house having just waved Ant off to work. By this stage I was deep in the clutches of depression and simply existing my way through each day. I couldn’t quite figure out what the point of ‘me’ was in the context of our little family.
I wasn’t contributing to the household income. (Isn’t it funny how we measure our worth?)
I was a terrible wife. (I couldn’t understand why Ant should have to put up with such a sad sack.)
And, while I felt I was being an ok mum to Jaden, I felt he deserved better.
These thoughts stacked up to form a tsunami-like wave in my brain on that particular day, and, as the wave crashed, I found myself sinking to the floor in our kitchen in a state of complete hopelessness.
I just couldn’t see how or when things were going to get ‘better’, and it occurred to me that it would be easier for everyone if I was gone. Ant could find a happier person to be married to. And while I knew Jaden would miss me at the start, he was young so he’d get over it pretty fast.
They’d be free of me, but, most importantly, I’d be free of myself.
For the first time in my life, I understood the level of despair required to produce suicide ideation. Since that day I have developed an abiding respect for the people who fight those thoughts every day … and still choose to keep going. They are the most mentally strong people in the world.
Happily for me, that day was the one and only time I truly entertained the thought that the world would be better off without me in it.
It shocked me to my core and made me realise, finally, that it was time to get some professional help.