Trigger warning: This post discusses suicidal ideation. Reader discretion is advised. As always, resources for mental health help and support will be available at the end of the post.
I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life when I was in high school. All I knew was that I wanted to use sciences, I wanted to use liberal and creative arts, I wanted to be able to study bilingually and I wanted to help people.
When I was a kid, I thought I was going to be a reconstructive surgeon who worked with burn victims to give them their faces back. And then I realized I’d have to take calculus and physics and that dream was quickly scaled back. Math has always been a challenge for me - not because I’m bad at it, but because it sometimes takes me longer to grasp the concepts than time allowed for in school.
Then, I thought I would be a labour and delivery doctor. Babies are so sweet and what would be better than helping to bring them into this world?
But then, the math again.
So I sat with my guidance counsellor and she asked me a bunch of questions of what I enjoyed and what I felt I wanted to do with my time. She began to rattle off different course descriptions and names and a lightbulb went off in my mind. Whatever she was describing, was what I wanted to study. That program, was Nursing. And the best part? Minimal math!
But then it hit me… I was following in my mother’s footsteps. And for me, a teenager who had always done what she was told and had been called her mother’s mini-me, this was the worst news I could possibly receive. Where was my individuality? Where was my identity? Was I simply to emulate my mother forever?
After I got over myself and realized just how vast the world of nursing was and my capacity to be able to help people through it, I applied to the program at my school of choice and got in. I was over the moon. I had done it! I had done what I had been preparing for my whole life up to this point: I gotten into University!
The next 5 years (no shame in taking extra time!) were gruelling and I had moments where I questioned every life decision that led me to that point. But finally, I had done it. I cross the stage, accepted my degree and got to celebrate with my family. I even passed the licensing exams. I could finally call myself a Registered Nurse.
And then I did what I was supposed to. I got a job, I worked, I helped people, I loved what I did. Until…
Until one day, something traumatic happened to me at work. But, I was fine…
And then as the days went on, I grew more and more irritable. I stopped picking up extra shifts at work. My job started to feel more and more overwhelming.
And then I started calling in sick, awake all night before every shift an awake all day before every night shift.
But I was still okay.
And then the nightmares started.
But I was still okay.
And then I started crying all the time and picking fights with my loved ones.
But I was still okay.
And then I started cancelling plans with my friends…
And stopped going to work…
And stopped showering…
And stopped eating…
And stopped getting out of bed…
And stopped sleeping…
I just stopped.
But the hallucinations started. And the voices. And the loss of distinction between being awake and being asleep. And the self hatred. And the guilt. And the shame.
I lay in my bed, eyes open, watching the shadows dance across my ceiling as day became night and night broke into day. My mind was like a hamster wheel powered by the energizer bunny: no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it to stop.
I just wanted it to stop.
And then the solution came to me. I wanted to sleep, I wanted the pain, the suffering, the shaking, the dizziness, the spinning spinning spinning…. I wanted it all to stop. Forever.
I had worked so hard in my life, and for what? To end up here? In this place where I was no longer living but just occupying space? I was a waste. A waste of potential, a wasted creation, a waste of all of my family’s sacrifices to get me to where I was. I was worthless. I was useless. I was nothing. I was better off… gone.
For context: I was not a social outcast. I was in a healthy and loving relationship. I had more friends than I could count. I had so many people who I could have reached out to, but my mind convinced me that I was completely and utterly alone. My own mother lived in the same house as me, and I allowed myself to believe that by telling her how I was feeling, I would be a burden to her.
Burden.
That was what I was most afraid of. I never wanted to become a burden. But now, I wasn’t doing anything for myself. I had become what I feared the most.
I decided in my mind that I didn’t know when, I didn’t know how, but that I was going to find a way to sleep forever an no longer be a burden to my loved ones.
If you’ve already read about my first panic attack, you know what happened in the next couple of weeks. Thank God, I got in touch with a friend. My mom got involved. My Doctor and Nurse Practitioner got involved. We got a Psychiatrist and a Psychotherapist involved. I started medication. I got the help that I needed.
And my journey to finding myself again began.
Looking back now, I can truly say that I am blessed and highly favoured to still be here. I have heard so many stories about others who found themselves in the same space as I was and they made the decision to end their own lives.
One of the things that saved me were my relationships. I thought about what my death would do to my mom and my grandma and my boyfriend and to my aunts and uncles and cousins and friends etc etc etc. Thank God I was able to look beyond myself for even a fleeting moment to see the effects of my actions on those around me.
So to those of you who love me and are loved by me, thank you. The blessing of your presence in my life was used by God to keep me alive to share my story.
If you, or someone you know is suffering, please, I urge you, don’t keep quiet. Ask for help. Beg for help. Knock on every door, explore every avenue until you find the resources that you need to heal. Life is painful and messy, but it can be so beautiful! Your presence in this life makes it beautiful. Do not rob those around you of your presence. You never know the difference your life will have on theirs. You are valuable. You are worthy. You are useful. You are loved.
Until next time!
Sincerely,
Mikeera
Canadian Mental Health Resources can be found here.
