How It Started

(trigger warning: suicide)

"As human beings, our greatness lies not so much in being able to remake the world… as in being able to remake ourselves." – Mahatma Gandhi

    Do you ever remember as a child, wondering what you might look like, sound like, or be when you grew up? Maybe it was just me, but I remember vividly staring at myself in the mirror in my bedroom, gazing intensely into my almond shaped eyes curious about who I'd be. I was maybe 7 or 8 years old at the time, and to me, "grown up", meant 16 or 17 (I never said I was smart). Being the oldest, I took on a lot of responsibility at a very young age, including becoming mama hen to my four younger siblings. My mother was overwhelmed, and I stepped up and became her help-meet. My dad worked a lot, and also spent a lot of time in ecclesiastical positions at our church, so often times he was away until well after the sun went down.

    I was always responsible in nature. Granted, I pulled some stunts in my younger years, but by the time I was 11 or 12, I was being left home with all four younger siblings, and, keeping everyone in line. The running joke in our home was that I could crack my whip and get things done, mostly because I have a propensity for bossiness.

    I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up; a mom.

    I accomplished becoming a mother at the young age of 22, and let me tell you, I was unprepared for the barrage of hormones, that induced PPD. Each baby that came along seemingly got worse, until my third was born and I almost lost my life due to pregnancy related complications. I spent a year with severe anxiety and panic attacks that were debilitating beyond belief. I honestly can say I do not remember most of my third child's first year of life because of the constant fight or flight mode I was in.

    Three years after he was born, my fourth came along unexpectedly. Once again, I was thrown into an intense spiral of emotions, and even worse panic attacks. I had experienced another life threatening pregnancy complication, but to compound matters, my oldest had been diagnosed with an autoimmune disease that I became the person solely responsible to manage. So, here I was, with baby number four, who by all intents and purposes, was the one child to rock my world and show me just how little I actually knew about being a mother. To this day, nine years later, she still loves to show me how little I know. I accept my fate, unwillingly, but it is what it is. She is my mini me, so I only have myself to blame here.

    All of this is to say, life has a funny way of teaching us things we don't necessarily want to learn. Which brings me to my next story:

    In September of 2021, we were still in the midst of the Covid backlash. Life had been extremely stressful, as usual, but everything had started to feel so much heavier. So many things had happened in a few short years, and Covid quarantine, homeschooling children, the uncertainty of our future, all played a part in my mental demise. 

    On the evening of September 15, I heard my phone ring. It was my dad. To this day, the words haunt my dreams, and cause me to wake in a cold sweat, panic taking over my body.

    My youngest brother, and one whom I had been closest to my entire life, had made the decision to end his 28 year old life. In one instant, my world shattered. I had just spoken to him on the phone not a week before, where he assured me he was doing wonderfully and was on not one, but two antidepressants. My gut told me something was off, yet, I still hung up the phone and instantly became honed in on all the many things I still had left to get done that day, including unloading an entire car of groceries. I had so much going on in life, and to this day I live with that debilitating guilt.

    It was later discovered that my brother, who had struggled with alcoholism since I could remember, had started drinking heavily again. He'd already been to a rehab years prior, and had been doing a lot better in life since that point; graduating with his master's degree in business finance just two months prior, and had a bright future looming ahead for himself and his little family, in a very lucrative career. From the outside looking in, we saw no red flags. Yet, my precious brother was battling demons that he ultimately succumbed to.

    I have never been the same since.

    Why am I telling you such personal history? Well. That's another story for another day.