Trigger warning: suicidal thoughts and plan.

Really real, really long. Mental health post.

This morning I woke up with a cloud hanging over me.

The kind of morning where I lay in bed wondering if it’s even safe to let my feet hit the ground. My feet on the ground mean I can walk to any of a thousand deadly things.

And then the same tapes start replaying. It’s not even that I want to die, I’m just tired of fighting this same fight. Im not becoming self sufficient fast enough and today is a ‘work day’ and as much as I love my job, waking up with this cloud means I not only have to make it through work, I have to fight the busses to get to work, which means I have to make the mile walk to the bus stop, which means I have to be ready to leave my house in plenty of time …. and this morning that means I have to fight through this cloud to make any of that happen. Ad really, it would be much more peaceful to just stop fighting this fight.

Can I even put my feet on the floor and make it through the next hour alive. Or do I just call out and give up and hope the thoughts are gone when I wake back up.

I get up I feed the dog and take her out. I don’t even bother trying to eat, but I take my morning meds.

The whole time I’m fighting the thoughts about where every bottle of pills in my house is. I know which ones will do what. There are safety plans and…. the fact is I can’t suicide proof the world and those spaces in my brain are dark as fuck.

I end up in the bathroom and my brain is still spinning. I can’t see a single reason to keep fighting but I’m trying to keep holding on. I’m trying to stay. I know I can’t give up.

The thing is, I also know that if there’s just the smallest break in the fog I’ll be okay again. I know that the hospital is pointless because this isn’t a medication problem or something that needs fixing or a 72 hour hold. It’s just my brain being a dumb brain and sometimes it gets really fucking dark.

But in that moment, I also couldn’t see my way out. The same pills and meds that keep me functioning become dangerous. It doesn’t help that the same pills that kept my late wife alive were her weapon against herself. It just makes it easier for me to see that as a solution to this pain. Even if it isn’t something I’d want to choose.

And then my phone dings. “This shirt made me think of you”

Seriously tell people when you are thinking of them. You never know when you are the spot of light they need.

It took me a bunch of texting back and forth on the crisis line, while crying on the bus, to make it to work. (By the way, they are fantastic text HOME to 741-741). I’m thankful that I could email my boss and tell her that it was a grief/mental health/dumb brain day and that she got it, didn’t push, made sure I had work to stay busy and checked on me.

But I made it. I’m going to need more support than other people. And it’s going to take me longer than I think it should to be at a paid job working at the level that I feel I should be capable.

But this morning I didn’t think I could get out of bed, and I still made it to work, without having to get anyone to drive me, or calling out, or giving up.
I also didn’t panic.

And I held on and I stayed.