DISCLAIMER: This is me being raw. And honest. If you are expecting something lighthearted, just close the tab now because you aren't going to get it.
Here goes:
My name is Cindy. I'm 37 years old. And I have 4 AMAZING young kiddos. And earlier this week I had 4 cops show up at my door in the middle of the night because they got a call that I might kill myself. (How's that for "raw"?!)
About 20 years ago, I tried to kill myself. Yep. You read that right. I did what everyone, including myself, considers the unspeakable. I was only 18 years old. High School Valedictorian, Best Athlete, Class President, all of it. Just starting my life. But I wanted to die. And I didn't want to die peacefully, either. I painstakingly slit at my wrists with my fingernails until I hit a vein. I never even felt it because I was so emotionally numb at the time. (In hindsight, that's probably why I bite my fingernails now. You know, as a "just in case" measure.) Obviously, I didn't succeed. If I had, I wouldn't have 4 little kiddos to drive me nuts on a daily basis. (I DO know my small victories when I see them.)
It didn't end there. Or start there even, if I'm being honest. I have suffered from eating disorders (multiple, depending on the time.) over the years. And, yes, judge me if you will, but, even though I had a LOT of medical issues throughout my pregnancies that mimicked bulimia (which weren't. I want to be perfectly clear about that!), I continued to go back to that every time. As sick (no pun intended) as it is, I still do. (And, yes, I've done the group therapy/personal counseling/OMG WTF are you doing?!?!? therapy. This post isn't about me failing.) I've suffered/found solice in that since I was in my early teens. Do I know it's horrible? Yes. Have I tried to stop? ABSOLUTELY!!! Unless you've been there, you have no clue.
Anyway, I want to get back to what this is about. Not that the eating disorders are irrelevant, just that I feel they are merely a symptom of something larger.
Back to the present. This week I almost did the unspeakable again. The last year has been hell. I've had more demons from the past creep up than I ever thought possible. So, yes, I went back to "that place". And wound up with 4 cops at my door ready to haul my ass off to the loony bin. And had to convince them that I wasn't in any immediate danger. You know what, though? I lied to them. For the first time in ages. I lied. I might not have been in "immediate" danger, but, rather, "imminent" danger. So I lied to get them out of my house. I couldn't bear to put my kids through that embarrassment. I'm still not happy about that.
But you know what? I realized that, even if I've done everything else wrong, I've done ONE thing right. In my darkest hour, I reached out to someone who was actually willing to put our friendship on the line and think about me first. I learned to trust people. People that I don't even know really well. To look out for me. The people I least suspected to call the cops and make sure I was OK (even though they thought I'd hate them for it), called them. To make sure that, when I'm incapable of taking care of myself, someone will look out for my well being. Because, guess what? If I hadn't reached out. To people I've never even met in real life. Those cops never would have showed up at my door. And I might not be writing this.
Yes, I'm looking out for my own well-being now. Well, in all all honesty, the best I can do right now is say that I'll try to do that. Yes, I know I need help. And, yes, I know how lucky I am and what a near miss I had.
I just hope this reaches someone in the same place I was a few weeks ago before it's too late. And that they realize they aren't alone.
