Rock bottom...

Let me just issue a warning,

this is pretty deep stuff, if you don't want to hear about suicide and depression

DON'T READ THIS!!! 

I've been putting off publishing this post.

But I cannot tell about my second day in the psych ward without first telling this story.

I don't know any other way to tell you about it than the truth.

I had a hard time sleeping again my second night in the hospital.

Even though I'd been given Ambien to help, it didn't help.

I tossed and turned all night.

Even though I'd asked for extra blankets I was still freezing.

At 4:30 in the morning I could no longer try to sleep,

I had waaaay too much on my mind

I needed to write.

So I left my room and went out to the common room and asked a tech for some paper and a pen.

They were granted to me.

I sat down at the common room table and started to write.

This is what I wrote:

***

Dying to be perfect...

There is no such thing as being perfect.

It doesn't matter how hard I try 
or even what I am trying to be perfect at.

I'll never get there...

...I don't have to...

This is where The Atonement steps in and saves me...

...but I keep forgetting...

There are thousands of failures of mine.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Just thinking/writing that feels me with hopelessness 

and my want to die.

I've said before that my life is the GREATEST its ever been.

My problem is everything, 

(small things), 

that is wrong about it is my failure.

I fail to keep my house sparkling.

I fail to keep my kids happily entertained all day.

I fail to be pretty.

I fail to keep up with laundry.

I fail to say the right thing.

I could keep going, but I won't.

I feel like such a failure in all aspects of my life that I clearly don't DESERVE to have such a good life.

I DON'T DESERVE IT!!!

Apparently I've been telling myself this for years.

And trying to live up to my expectations of myself is too hard.  So I give up, 

before I've even finished most anything I decide to do.

I have an unfinished life.

The miscarriage really sent me over the edge.

It felt (for me) like the ultimate "mom fail".

Reminding me once again that I am not good enough to live my life.

Which brings me to why I want to die.

I don't deserve my life.

I don't deserve to live.

I've failed everyday since the day I was born.

And I think my birthday is the biggest reminder of that.

Perhaps that's why on my birthday 

I feel like my life ought to be taken back.

***

That day was in fact my birthday.

After writing that I went back to my bed 

and was able to fall asleep.

I felt relieved somehow.

Later that day I would go into my room,

twist one of my blankets into a rope 

and try to hang myself using the gap in my bedframe to hold my makeshift rope.

I tried and tried to strangle.

No matter how hard I tried or what I tried I could still breath.

I sat back frustrated.

I pulled my "rope" from around my neck and hid it behind my pillow.

I rested my face in my hands, 

frustrated,

feeling so lost.

I wanted to cry and scream and kick and fight.

But I didn't.

I sat there on the floor of my room giving up.

This was a very dark moment for me.

A dark and scary moment.

But by some miracle while circling the drain,

something lifted me from the depths.

It was without a doubt my Savior.

I don't know how He "found" me, His lost sheep.

While I was lost in the midst of darkness he led me back to the floor of my room, 

sat me down and let me decide to live.

And I did.

I firmly believe that it is the prayers of my family and friends that brought The Savior to me.

The guiding light that led Him to me.

I never lost my faith and testimony of Heavenly Father and Jesus,

but I forgot to tell them that I needed help.

I cannot thank those who've been praying for me, and telling Them for me, enough.

Thank you a million times.

A billion times.

A trillion times over.