So, so easily during this time of year my thinking sways quickly to "I wish I'd never been born." "Why was I born?" "The world and the people in it would have been so much better off had I never been born."
Sad, but true. Fairly so, I blame my parents. Through many conversations with my mom (and not during any heat of the moment arguing), she very frankly let me know she never wanted me. She, on multiple occasions, told me that she was forced to have children so that my dad would be able to "do what he wanted" to them.
I spent years and years angry about my birth. I think that's why it is so easy to slip into that same thinking now. That paired with the fact my family doesn't care makes it even more difficult.
The depression; the birthday...I'm going to make an educated guess that I don't need to go into much detail about the long, sleepless nights filled with suicidal thinking. You get it, it's a BAD time right now.
Talking through this with someone yesterday, I realized something. In a very real, profound way, being incredibly suicidal has increased my faith. It maybe an obscure thought for some of you, but it is true.
What I am about to say maybe disturbing, but I have to be honest for anyone to understand. Mostly, I have to be honest for myself. So that when I look back at this, I can see exactly what God has done.
Nights are bad. Lately, I haven't been sleeping more than 1-2 hours a night. I had gotten my average up to 5-6. Depression and sleep deprivation do not mix well. In fact, they feed off each other and become cyclical.
Many, many nights the depression leads to suicidal thinking. Sadly, the internet is a dangerous place for anyone who is suicidal. There is an endless supply of deadly directions and recipes made with everyday household items. I know. I've been there. Searched. Planned. Attempted.
During that process, there comes a pivotal point. It is that moment when I know to go one step further is going to have permanent consequences. Many of those moments are spent sitting in bed next to my husband as he sleeps.
I look at him, knowing that next step is ultimately going to break his heart. In that moment, it is nearly impossible to rationalize anything. I think his pain would be temporary, until he learns he is better off. I think my pain is far too much to go on, not believing it will ever get any better. At that moment I can't entertain the idea that my pain is temporary and his would last forever.
There is a profound reality in that moment. At that moment, I have absolutely no ability to control my actions. I have lost ability to reason through it or think in any other way. In that moment, my life is literally not in my hands.
Many nights end like this. At least 4-5 nights a week and sometimes every night in a given week. It is a chronic problem. But, sitting her typing this out you obviously know I have made it through each and every one of them.
For each night that has ended with that moment, there has been a morning I have woke up knowing I survived my own self-destruction.
Each one of those mornings, I know it was ONLY God who saved me from myself. I can be sure of that. I can be sure that in those final moments when I have lost control, God has not.
Honestly, I am not sure what happens after that last moment and those last thoughts. I only know that I wake up the next morning.
Please don't think that I live these nights to test God's faithfulness, I don't. I honestly do wake up thankful, knowing I have been spared from myself. If I had the ability to not go through this cycle, I would stop it immediately. I would much rather be learning the attributes of God through a much safer, controlled means.
I do try my best to remember in the darkest moments that I was saved from the last darkest moment...it's just not always that easy. So, I have to allow my faith in God to grow with this. As odd as it seems, this is the way my faith is being strengthened right now.
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