If you are currently experiencing thoughts of self harm or suicide, this post may be triggering to you.
One night I finally began to let show how miserable I was. James asked me if I was ok and I immediately burst into tears. This was maybe a week and a half after being home from the hospital. Once the tears started flowing, they didn’t stop. The next thing I knew, I was sobbing, my body literally shaking as I cried into his shoulder. This was the first time I showed him a glimpse of the things I was feeling. Up until that point, I was able to hold it together when I was around anyone and limited my tears to my “couch cries” with Hank (read more about those here). It was as if a dam had burst that had been holding everything in and I was letting the floodwaters of emotion spill out over everything. I don’t think I’ve ever cried that hard before.
James laid me down in bed and held me and let me cry. He was so gentle with me, and didn’t ask any questions. I remember very little other than saying over and over, “I don’t want to be a mom anymore. I never wanted to be a mom to begin with”. I somehow felt like I had failed my husband by admitting to the fact that I hated motherhood. He walked around the house singing to our little boy, while I loathed being around him. It’s still shocking to me how I kept this hidden for so long.
The day after the first breakdown, I was laying in our room and supposed to be napping while Cove napped. Instead of napping, I was staring at a medicine bottle on my nightstand. The beta blocker that I take to slow my rapid heart rate was within reach. I knew that there was enough in the pill bottle to do some damage. Thoughts raced through my head. It seemed like the easy way out.
Being the chronic over thinker that I am, I played through all of the different implications of what it would mean to end my life. I knew that Cove would be well taken care of, James could maybe find love again, and overall things would be ok. However, I figured that there would probably have to be some lifestyle changes for the Youngblood family. I assumed one of the first things to go would be Hank, our poorly behaved, yet very loving, black lab. As a single dad, James couldn’t possibly have the time to care for an unruly dog and he would try to re-home him. I couldn’t stand the thought of Hank living anywhere else, and being treated like an actual dog, so after a few days of pondering, I decided that was the end of trying to take myself out of the equation.
Not my husband. Not my baby. Not my family. MY DOG. I chose to keep living because of a misbehaved, failed out of puppy school, dog.
Even to this day, I still feel a sense of shame in admitting that. How is it that my love for my husband or baby wasn’t enough for me to want to keep going? How is it that the promises of God weren’t what pushed me to hold on? This is mental illness, friends. It doesn’t make sense. It’s messy. It’s uncomfortable to talk about – yet we need to talk about it all the more.
Those things that weren’t enough for me that day, have come full circle and are now more than I could ever dream of. I have hope in Jesus to keep on living, and I am excited to share how this all eventually becomes a story of courage, love, and salvation. Unfortunately there are still dark moments to wade through, and I think it is important for you to see the utter darkness before you can truly appreciate the light.
If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self harm or suicide, please speak up! You can always call the national suicide hotline at 1-800-273-8255.
Thanks for sharing, Emily. I’m thankful for that misbehaved ,obedience school drop out, Hank! 🙂
Cried. Legit cried! What a testimony. I think this is what Paul was talking about when he says that God uses the foolish things of the world to confound the wise (1 Corinthians 1:27). 🙂 Who would have thunk it? Our God who is so loving knew that you needed this in that moment. And here you are; and I’m thankful you’re still here 💜💜💜