I Remember

It's quite coincidental that I choose to write about this today after the world has lost a celebrity to suicide.  I write this while I keep Robin Williams and his family, my beautiful cousin Tiffany, and my friend Mikey in mind

I chose to write this today for a reason; because exactly 1 year ago today, I had committed myself to a behavioral health center for suicidal actions, self harming, and crippling anxiety/depression.

I still remember those days like it was yesterday, and I know I've already told the story in one of my past pieces, so bare with me, because here I go again.

 I remember the pain and suffering that I felt for weeks.  I remember not being able to sit down for long periods of time, not being able to be alone in my apartment, taking doses of Zzzquil and glasses of wine to be able to get some semblance of sleep.  I remember training in the weight room, lifting heavy, and then running miles and miles directly after, just in hopes to tire myself out. I remember feeling hopeless and helpless- not cluing many people into how poorly I was doing.

I remember texting my derby wife, Sarah, multiple times a day, just asking her to tell me that I'm going to survive.

I remember the night before I went to the hospital- having dinner with my mom and aunts; discussing my cousin's suicide the year prior; seeing and feeling the pain as we spoke about her.  I remember silently feeling ashamed that I was feeling the same thoughts that my cousin had felt before she ended her own life.

I remember after that dinner, texting and tying an old friendship back together with someone who was like my sister for years.  I remember how much advice she gave me, and the weight lifted off my shoulders that after a year of not speaking, we went right back to laughing and joking like we used to.

I remember that night that she told me to make a decision- that she was worried and that she also thought it would be beneficial to receive treatment before I destroy myself even further.  She assured me that she'd leave work early the next day to take me in. I went home and decided to run to the lake very late and night and walk back, contemplating my decision on whether to go on feeling like this without seeking professional help, or to take the giant leap and go to Laurelwood.  I remember when the right decision came to my mind.

I remember waking up the next morning and feeling a bit better, but as the work day went on, things got exponentially worse, and I found myself panicking in my office.  I remember calling my soccer coach into my office and crying at him.  I remember making the decision to leave the high school and immediately go to the hospital.

I remember my mom calling me to make sure I was doing okay on my drive home to pack and leave, and I remember lying to her and saying yes.  I remember Kate picking me up, saying goodbye to my dog and cat, saying goodbye to a few of my friends, packing up my shit, and leaving my apartment scared shitless.

I remember sitting in the lobby of Laurelwood waiting to be taken back.  I remember telling the first lady I had to talk to everything, bawling in her office- having to tell a complete stranger that yes, I want to kill myself, and I do not feel safe going home.  I remember when I had to say goodbye to Kate and take the very long walk back through the cold white cement block halls.  I remember wanting to turn back and run- but not doing it.  I remember feeling like I wasnt in my own body as I walked through the halls, seeing the people I was going to be living with for the next however many days I had to stay.

I remember having to strip naked in front of a complete stranger as she pointed out all of my scars, cuts, tattoos, and piercings.  I remember sitting in that office alone for what seemed like forever, crying and shaking, but trying so hard to suck it all up. I remember having all of my belongings taken away from me, having my shoe laces cut and the strings taken out of my pants. 

I remember being taken into the meeting room where the patients were all hanging out like they were road dawgs for life...and here I was alone in a chair in the corner in a robe crying and staring at the floor. 

I remember a few older women starting to talk to me to try and welcome me in and reassure me, and telling me about the lives other patients that we'd be living with.  Now that I look back at it, it was kinda funny and gossipy like high school.

Then I remember my parents walking in, forgetting it was visiting night, forgetting that Kate was going to tell them that I was there, and feeling my stomach drop.  I remember crying and finally letting go of everything I was holding onto inside to them for the first time in my life.  For the first time in my life I wasnt sucking it up around my parents.  I wasnt the tough one, and ya know what?  I remember it feeling damn good to get it all out there finally.  I remember how good I felt to hear "You did the right thing" and "We're proud of you" and "We're going to make sure everything is taken care of, you just focus on getting better."

I remember finally meeting my overseeing psychiatrist in the hospital and discussing my issues, and the action plan ahead of us.  I remember him looking at me with genuine concern, and telling me that I look extremely exhausted and emaciated, and that he would do his best to help me during my stay. I remember accepting that I needed to get back on medication- that this was all going to be okay again.

I remember making friends that night on our last smoke break that evening, and actually starting to feel comfortable being there.  I remembered the games we played and the laughs we shared, the meetings we had, the crappy food we ate together. I remember helping a few people out- notably 2 younger girls going through almost the same shit I was experiencing, and I remember all of my new crazy friends helping me feel normal and at ease. I remember feeling a sense of community and being care free for a moment in time...that somehow I knew I'd survive after this experience.

As an important sidenote, I remember an old schoolmate and friend of mine, Mikey, who showed up the night after I did, after he tried to commit suicide.  I remember when we told him to join us and play jenga with us.  We all wrote our names on the jenga blocks that evening.  Our own littlle group of crazies, we called ourselves.

I remember the phone calls to and from friends and family, the constant support, and the presents that my cousin sent in for me. Yes, Kree, I still have my princess crown.

I remember the day I was being released.  I remember almost feeling sad to leave my new friends behind and go back to my real life, but knowing I'd survive.  I remember being slow clapped out by every single patient that I had spent time with- possibly one of the most moving experiences of my life.  I remember going home and desperately hugging my dog and how excited she was to see me again.  I remember finally getting to shower and shave and wear makeup and nice clothes.  I remember that day was a family reunion and a derby party after.  What a great day to be discharged- being able to experience family and friends again after what seemed like a lifetime of being in a psychiatric ward. 

I remember visiting friends in the hospital after I got out, and Mikey being there again.  I remember punching his arm and telling him I better never see him in there again, and that he better call me next time, and he promised.  And I remember him getting out again and us bullshitting from time to time...and then I remember the night I received the news that Mikey had successfully committed suicide...Feeling a wave of anger and sadness, but finding peace that he had been struggling so hard for so long, and was no longer experiencing that kind of emotional pain.

And I remember the rest of the year- the struggles I've had and the achievements I've made.  I've become stronger somehow.  Strong enough to have gotten rid of the majority of negative people and situations in my life. I'm 4 months clean from self harm now and I haven't looked back since.  I've quit other bad habits that I had accumulated throughout the times of desperation.  I can now open up to my family and friends completely about everything without feeling weird or weak.

I've given myself the chance to be alone and be okay.  I've given myself the chance to date guys without commitment; to break the cycle of serial monogamy that I had gotten myself stuck in for 10 years.  I've also allowed myself to commit to one man who is probably the most deserving person to give my heart to.  I'm in the most positive, trusting, and adult-like relationship I've ever been in. Fingers crossed.

A year later and here I am.  I survived and I'm feeling more positive than I have ever felt. I've set new weird but fun goals for myself- to try hula hooping, to stretch every day, to be able to do the splits, and to get my mile PR down from 8:44, to read more books that challenge my brain.  All things that I can accomplish at some point or another.

Ya know, it's funny.  I found myself getting more emotional over the positive points Ive made in this blog.  Positivity is such a freeing and overwhelming feeling.  Letting all this out and reminiscing about it to people i know, and dont even dont know, always makes me feel great inside.

I know I say this after everything I write, but I am always here for those who need me- be it advice, help, a person to bullshit with, to hang with, whatever.  There is an upside to life, and it'll come to you no matter what, so dont give up. Or else ;)

I love you all.