Now that my letter has been published, you know more of my story and the journey that I’ve been on for most of my life. But there's only so much that can be included in a letter that’s meant to be no more than 1500 words, so I want to follow it up with this post to share what would have been much too long to share in the letter: the steps I took while being suicidal.
Although these are numbered, they are not necessarily numbered chronologically. I was in an emergency situation, had no guide book, and — out of fear — wouldn’t even tell my mom at first and didn’t know what to do (other than act on the ideations but, even then, that still, small voice inside me reminded me of my desire for Heaven and I knew that suicide was no guarantee that I would get there). Terrified and alone, the first thing I did was...
1. Told My Priest and my Doctor
This part of my story begins with a text message from my brother. Knowing I was struggling with depression and anxiety, he asked how I had been doing that day. “Other than thoughts of cutting my wrists, I’m great” was my reply (a dry sense of humor runs in the family). He immediately asked permission to call me and we spoke on the phone for the next two hours. I told him truthfully that I was not suicidal and, by the time we hung up, I was feeling pretty good.
But the very next morning, I awoke to a suicidal ideation which included a plan. Thankfully, I couldn’t act on that particular plan because I don’t own the instrument that I saw in the plan. It was, nonetheless, terrifying. My depression and anxiety triggered due to the ideation, I met with my priest after Mass that morning and told him of my ideation. He immediately prayed with and for me, which was helpful and I did relax a bit, but additional help and support was clearly necessary.
That night, my doctor called me and I told her that I was suicidal. She asked me to put my mom on the phone and told my mom that I would be spending the night at home and that, if my mom wouldn’t take me to the ER the next morning, she would.
2. Went to the ER
My Mom took me to the ER. I still hadn’t told her. I couldn’t. I was so scared. I told the nurse in triage. Then I saw my first psychiatrist who prescribed my first medication and also gave me the choice between hospitalization or Partial Hospitalization Program (PHP). I didn’t want hospitalization. By now my Mom knew and I had a surge of confidence in our ability to communicate so, if I had to do one or the other, it would be PHP. I was put on the waiting list. The waiting list was about a week long (which is forever for someone who was in my situation).
3. Told EVERYONE in My Family and Made Sure There was Always Someone With Me
Mom and I left the ER and went out for ice cream. I felt more confident since it seemed like we had an action plan. We now both knew that I was suicidal and I determined, hard as it would be, to call everyone in my immediate family (I have 5 siblings so this was a big commitment) and tell them that I was suicidal. I knew that if I had any chance whatsoever of survival, we all had to know. I needed that support.
As I began to communicate more openly with my family, gifts began to show up on our doorstep with my name on them. It was puzzling because I hadn't ordered anything. There was a fuzzy panda bear blanket from my brother and sister-in-law and a necklace with Philippians 4:13 on it from my sister. Though my love language is not gift giving or receiving, these little things from my further-away siblings went a long way in helping me to feel their love, support and encouragement.
Meanwhile, they also made sure that I was always with someone with whom I felt safe. The chances of attempting suicide are far less when with company so my local siblings, family members, and closest friends all jumped on board. I appreciated this very much, especially because my love language is quality time and so spending hours with people who I felt safe with was so good for me.
The occasion was my brother's college graduation. Remember that mental illness is a very hidden suffering: you would never know that I was depressed, anxious and suicidal; in fact, I hadn't eaten anything that day and was considering starvation. Please don't be afraid to ask your friends how they're doing. I mean, how they're *really* doing.
4. Switched Therapists
Within just a couple of days, I was admitted into a Partial Hospitalization Program but not the one whose waiting list I had been on. (My daily and nightly panic attacks were hospital level and very, very scary so my Mom and my Aunt did a lot of research while I was sleeping off some medication one afternoon and, when I woke up, they had my next step figured out.) At PHP, I met daily with a Psychiatrist and, due to schedules on their side, worked with two different therapists. My psychiatrist — who was absolutely wonderful to work with — recommended his practice for after my discharge not because I could continue working with him but because his colleagues have an excellent reputation. Longer story very short, I left my first therapist (who I mentioned in my letter. The reason is that we were not the right fit for each other) and switched to a group therapy at his practice. From there I stayed at that practice but eventually switched to individual therapy again to do CBT. That was an incredible experience and the story is in my letter.
5. Left My Job
The first 4 steps were chronologically what happened. Here, I’m transitioning out of the story and into the facts. Prior to my breakdown (please read my letter if you have not yet already), I could not admit that I was miserable. I wanted so much to love my job but I just didn’t. Since I was suicidal, my psychiatrist at PHP encouraged me to get a new job. Apparently, that’s the advice he gives to all patients who are suicidal and that makes sense. I did leave my job and accepted unemployment. I will forever be immensely grateful to my parents for welcoming me back home and caring for me.
6. Texted the Suicide Hotline Number
Once I learned of it a few months in, I began texting the National Suicide Hotline Number. I texted that number so many times that they recorded my name/number and would greet me by name when I texted (that was only creepy the first time). Was it helpful? Kinda... although I already knew the coping skills and breathing exercises that they recommended from my time in PHP. For me, it really was just a reason for me to not think (or not think entirely alone) about my ideations and severe anxiety.
7. Had a Physical List of People to Contact When I Needed To and was as Transparent as Possible
There’s nothing worse that being alone when you’re triggered. The isolation means that the lies swimming in your mind are suddenly on steroids, the battle feels too big and overwhelming and giving up seems the easiest way. At PHP, I created a physical list of people to contact in these moments and I would text all of them and engage with anyone who responded. In those moments, it’s literally ANYTHING you can do that keeps you from acting on the ideations.
Further, I told my family and closest friends what I saw in my ideations. Subsequently, my parents hid the kitchen knives. To this day, I have no idea where they kept them for those several months. They only brought them out for cooking, then quickly cleaned them and put them right back in their hiding place.
8. Got a Temporary (“transition”) Job
I was unemployed and dreading employment, having lost trust in employers. I’m a preschool teacher and, as it turns out, the Preschool Director at our Church has a great relationship with our family. She offered me a very part time, temporary job and I reluctantly accepted it. It was a great choice and, within only two weeks of that job ending, I landed my current job where I am, to this day, very happy.
9. Using a Weighted Blanket
Simultaneously to getting a temporary job, we learned about weighted blankets and did our research about them. They are helpful for people who suffer from nightmares, anxiety, depression, sleeping disorders, etc. My mom bought me one and that coupled with a medication change and a new job seemed to work its magic on me and I finally began to be consistently better and better.
10. Met with My Priest on an As-Needed Basis
My priest has known me for half my life and, if my Mom texted him to ask for his soonest availability because I needed to talk to him, he was ready. I am painfully aware of how great a gift this is but I do encourage you to talk to a priest after Mass about your struggles if any of this resonates with you.
11. Prioritized Daily Mass, Listened, Prayed and Trusted
I prioritized daily Mass and that was the majority of my prayer life outside of my ultimate intention to offer up all of my suffering. There was no consolation at Mass except for the head-knowledge of Jesus’ True Presence in the Eucharist. At this point, it was more conviction than anything else. I was in intense physical pain, the anxiety was so great, and the only consolation the Eucharist gave me was the strength to keep fighting for another day. I received the Sacrament of Anointing several times throughout these 10 months of suffering and it’s really the graces of the Sacraments that kept me going.
People around me were praying for me and I leaned on their prayers. It was hard to trust God, hard to trust their prayers and hopes for me but, simultaneously, I literally had nothing better to do. I didn’t know when or if my suffering would end. They told me it would but I didn’t know if I could believe them. The only person who I came close to believing told me, with tears streaming down her face, that she had heard God whisper in her heart, “Soon, but not yet.” Within three months, I entered remission.
12. Wrote Letters
Several friends asked what they could do to help. There wasn’t much, honestly, because my group of trusted people was very small. I would always ask for their prayers and I would sometimes ask if they enjoyed letter writing. To my delight, I was able to exchange letters with several people for a few months. It’s also the little joys that kept me going.
13. Avoided Alcohol
Countless times while in PHP, I was asked when my last drink was. I’d self-medicated on alcohol in the past but, after my mental breakdown, I began to take my recovery seriously. I knew that if I wanted any chance of survival, alcohol wouldn’t be part of my journey. So my last drink before my breakdown was Christmas day and it would be months before I had another one. There was so much trial and error with different medications that I was grateful that alcohol had no influence on any of it.
14. Never Attempted Anything
As real as the ideations seemed, as intense as the pain was, as lonely as I felt, and as much as I wanted out (believing myself to be a burden to the world), I never attempted anything. It seemed like I had every plan in the book and sometimes circumstances would reveal new plans. It was terrifying.
And it’s only by the grace of God that any of this is true.
This is the baby who I so desperately wanted to meet, one of the forefront reasons in my mind for not acting on the ideations in those moments. Holding him for the first time was the moment that I chose life once and for all because I wanted to get to know him.
He is all joy and I've never once regretted that choice. Also, that necklace is the one from my sister with Philippians 4:13 on it.
15. Celebrated the Milestones
The therapist with whom I worked the longest (a year) and I celebrated together every milestone along my path to recovery. The first time that I talked myself out of a panic attack, we celebrated the following week with ice cream. It truly doesn’t take much to celebrate and it goes a long way for the client's recovery and for the relationship between therapist and client which, I believe, is what's more important: a therapist can give you the tools that you need but a good relationship with your therapist is really what makes all the difference.
It's a hard journey but it's a worth-it journey.
Life is worth living. Keep your heart up!
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Thank you so much for your positive response to my letter, for sharing it on your own social media accounts and to everyone who took the time to message me. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people in my age group (which is absolutely gut-wrenching and heartbreaking); I wrote my letter (and this post!) to be shared in hopes of helping others catch a glimpse of hope in the midst of their struggles. It's why I have this blog, why I've chosen to share my story and it's given greater meaning to all the suffering that I endured.
So thank you for your responses, your encouragement, and your prayers for me and for everyone who has read and will read my letter. I truly believe that prayer makes a difference!
