Sunday, February 10, 2013
Someone found my blog by searching the internet with “Every day I wake up thinking of suicide.”
When I started this blog I knew that someone in despair might find it. That someone, somewhere would feel the need to type those words into a search engine.
My brain knew this would happen eventually, but my heart never let me believe it.
Finding out that someone read my blog by searching the word "suicide” has left me shattered.
It scares me. It leaves me feeling that someone out there thinks suicide is the only answer.
It pains me to know there is someone out there that needs help, but I can't help since I have no way of knowing who this person is.
Through my pain I want to share what suicide has done to my life. So if someone searches “Every day I wake up thinking of suicide” they will hopefully find this blog, or find me.
I lost my life to suicide.
I did not lose my physical life or body to suicide. I lost something worse than that.
I lost my best friend, companion, soul mate, and reason for living.
I lost my husband to suicide.
The one thing I never thought I would lose.
My husband’s suicide ended his mental suffering (or so I assume), but it did not end his pain. Instead, his suicide pushed his pain onto everyone who loved him. I can’t count how many people now suffer from the pain of his suicide.
I know my husband could not see any other option. He had reached the end of his rope with doctors and treatment.
But I firmly believe my husband had no idea how badly he was going to hurt me. Maybe he couldn't see past his pain to think about the pain he was going to cause others. But I know for a fact if my husband knew how devastated I would be, and still am, he would not have killed himself.
His suicide tore me to shreds. His suicide tore my soul out of my body. It shattered my life. It shattered my family and his family. It shattered his friends and my friends.
Suicide shattered our hopes and dreams.
It took away my reason for living. I almost paid the ultimate price for my husband’s suicide. I considered taking my own life.
I gave up on living. The only way I could think of moving on from this horrendous pain was suicide.
But, because I saw what my husband’s suicide did to my family I realized I could never do that to them. My only choice was to keep living. Well, not just live, but be alive and fight the urge to die. To move on without my husband the best I can.
To the person that found my blog I have this to say - I wish you would have reached out to me. I wish I could have told you how completely devastating suicide has been to me.
I wish I could have begged you to get help. I wish I could have told you that it does get better. Sure, maybe you need some treatment, more than I can give you, but you can get better.
You are not alone.
Your suicide will shatter and devastate more people than you will ever understand. You do not leave this world alone. You might be alone physically when you choose to end your life but you will take your friends and family with you.
We don't know what happens to us after this life. Sure, we have religion and our beliefs, which give us hope there is more after this life. But we don’t truly know what happens.
How do you know suicide will end your pain? How do you know you won’t continue to feel the pain after you kill yourself? Then what?
How do we know we are not stuck between heaven and earth? Or sent back to earth to learn this lesson over? How do you know that you are not forced to see the pain of your friends and family for all eternity?
How do you know your suicide will not cause more suicides because those who were closest to you can’t deal with their loss?
I've heard a lot of people say “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.” My husband’s problem was not temporary. But neither was his death. His problem lasted three years before it took his life.
But his life is over now. There is no going back. My husband died at 31 years old.
He will never see another rainbow. He will never hit the slopes on his snowboard. He will never go camping, jet-skiing, work or have a hot meal with me after a long day. He will never sit on the beach with me. We can never jump on a plane and go play somewhere tropical. He can't watch me grow and change, and he can't be there in my last days on this earth. He can't hold my hand as I grow old and frail. He can't have children and watch them grow. He will not see his parents age, and he will never feel the warmth of the sun.
He is forever gone. There is no do-over. There is no reset button. There is just death.
So for the person that stumbled onto my blog, I pray you are still out there. I pray you read this blog, and I pray you realize your pain is not yours alone.
I pray you ask for help.
Asking for help does not make you weak. It means you are courageous. And through that courage you can find the help and desire to live.