The Introduction Part 1

December 31, 2014, I brought in the new year at my home church, Life Changers International Ministries. January 1, 2015, I joined my pastors and other church members to hand out coats and socks to those in need. January 2, 2015, I was admitted into a mental institution for wanting to commit suicide. How did I end up there? I had just gone through the hardest break – up of my adulthood at the age of 23 and it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Again, my break – up was NOT the source of my depression and heartbreak, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I cried constantly, my room was a MESS, I did not shower much, I binge ate everything in sight, and I called out of work constantly. Some days, I even showed up late AND left early. I stopped going to church, stopped answering my Pastor’s phone calls and text messages, and stopped praying. I did not even tell my friends what was going on. Courtney, my big sister, and a clinical counselor was the only one who knew. I laid in bed many evenings trying to decide how I wanted to die. Did I want to drown myself or hang myself? Did I want to get drunk and crash my car or slit my throat? They say the mind is the devil's playground. My mind was more like his amusement park with unlimited rides.

Just to give you a little background, I had been struggling with depression on and off since I was a teenager. I got kicked out of school, I was at odds with my entire family, and I was angry at the world; angry at God. Guess what my anger brought to the party? You guessed it - unhealthy coping skills and unhealthy relationships. I partied recklessly with my friends every weekend. One time, I smoke and drank so much that I blacked out and slept through a shootout in the club parking lot. There were nights when I did not even know how I made it home, let alone made it the house, upstairs to my bedroom.

When I woke up the morning of January 2, 2015, I called Courtney and told her that I did not want to live anymore. I told her the medicine my neurologist prescribed me for migraines had me hearing voices, that my heart just could not handle the hurt of my break – up, and I just called to say goodbye. For months, I would call her and cry to her day and night about what I was feeling. She was patient every time. She was never too busy to be a listening ear even though she had her own life going on.

Oddly, my dad was home on that Monday. Out of all the Monday’s in the year, that was the one Monday he decided to stay home and cut the grass! Monday’s were my day off from work and I usually had the house to myself all day. When I look back, I consider this to be the first set up by God because if my dad had not been home, I probably wouldn't be sharing this story with you. My sister convinced me to call my doctor’s office and tell them what happened. I told her I didn’t want to because they would commit me and think I was crazy. A nurse told me that I needed to go to the nearest hospital and speak with someone. I assured her I would, even though my mind had been made up I would not. I proceeded to think of a way to sneak pass my dad without him noticing my bloodshot eyes.

The doctor’s office called me multiple times after that; I assume because they wanted to know if I had gone to the hospital. I kept ignoring their calls. Now, you know how you put down an “emergency contact” in case anything ever happens when you fill out your new patient paperwork? Well… guess who my emergency contact was and guess who the doctor’s office called when I decided not to answer? Yup! My daddy! I made a mental note to myself to change all of my Emergency Contact information across the board to my mom because she doesn’t answer numbers she doesn’t recognize. However, my dad, being a business owner, always answers his phone in case something is going on with one of his employees.

Anyway, as I walked through the garage to make a dash for my car, here comes my dad rounding the corner to look for me. He asked me what was going on because my doctor’s office just called him to find out if I went to the hospital. I just broke down. The secret that I had been holding in for so long had now come to light and I could not hide it anymore. He drove me to the hospital and called my mom to meet us there. While waiting, they gave me a pair of ugly, oversized green scrubs to change into along with a plastic bag and told me to put all my belongings in it. At that point, I knew I would not be sleeping in my bed that night. Afterwards, they put me in a room with 2 beds and 2 chairs (nothing else) while I waited to be transported to another facility. I did not want to go, and I remember my dad telling me that it was out of his control and he could not save me this time. The sadness on my parents’ face broke my heart but it was time for me to acknowledge that I had a problem and I needed help. There would be no fast talking my way out of this. I couldn't and didn't have the energy to muster a smile and act like I was just being dramatic in order to convince the hospital to let me go home. Once medical professionals are aware you are suicidal they have an obligation to save you from yourself and I was a hazzard to myself.

Disclaimer: If you or anyone you know is dealing with depression and thinking about harming yourself in any way contact a family memeber and go to the nearest hospital immediately. This post is in no way encouragement to act on any suidical thoughts. I am not a medical professional and this post should not be used as medical advice.