9-17-2016

Seven years ago today I was admitted to OSU hospital for a mental break. I was contemplating hurting myself and was brought here for help. While I was here I found out that I was really sick. An invisible illness. A mental illness. Only I can feel it. I will suffer mentally and physically and alone. I lost so much weight. I was abt 100lbs and I'm being generous with that number. My hair was falling out and I wasn't sleeping. I played video games (burn out mostly) and smoked cigarette after cigarette. My room was always dark and I cried all the time. My kids watched me deteriorate with saddness in their eyes. My husband was afraid to hold me (because I was so thin) for fear of hurting me. I was a mess. Seven years ago my husband walked in on me holding a bottle of pills. I was crying and wanted to die. He called my couseler and she told him to take me to Netcare immediately. I remember watching him walk away and leave me there. I watched him hold back his tears to give me strength. As I watched him leave I prayed that I would be okay. That I would live to see another day. I prayed that my children would be safe. I prayed that my family would understand and not make me feel worse then I already did. All my prayers were heard. My husband was strong enough for the whole family. My mother, siblings and extended family were by my side and never judged me. They supported me. With all this I survived. I lived to see another day. I lived to see my babies grow into the wonderful adults they are. I lived to see my grandchildren be born. I LIVED!