My hands are sweating so profusely they keep sliding around my keyboard causing quite the typing disaster. My fingers are shaking like the wind in the leaves outside my bedroom window. I don't know if my chest is tight from my neuropathy or illnesses or syndromes or if it is just that it has taken me some 3 months to type this all up and it POST.
I assume you can guess where I put my money on.
This post almost faded into obscurity when I would sit down to type it and think to myself, "self, you DID want to die at least once today." Dagnabit, that makes me a liar for TODAY so I should just wait until the next time I have a day that I don't want to die.
You can imagine this jig of a dance of madness that myself and I had almost every day for the last 3 months. Don't jump all over me about having me placed in a padded room. I'm not crazy, just spent.
But, this is really the heart of the matter: and then what?
I don't think anyone would have labeled me as a sweet, naive girl who skipped through life without a care or a worry. A young lass who . . . let's just stop there. No, that was not who I was. A hurricane in tomboy skin (back in the day before we had to clarify that as being heterosexual or not) wearing one of many beloved #10 or #23 Chicago Bulls basketball shorts, playing ball on the courts until the streetlights came on or until we couldn't feel our fingers.
As the middle of 3 daughters of an Army Chaplain and his wife, we moved often and adjusted to new places and people and sounds and smells more times than I knew how to track back then, in our pre-interwebs haven. Now, the adulting me knows - I've had 43 addresses in my life.
But law abiding, middle child, introvert, Daddy's girl, tomboy, God follower me didn't have it all come up roses. There were years in school when the administration would have to decide that the attendance policy was pretty much out the window for me as I would have more sick days than days in school. The work got done and the grades were achieved but my chair sat empty.
And I didn't want to die.
I was never cool or fashion forward or part of the in-crowd though I sometimes wished I could be. I wasn't pursued by guys or even considered when it came time for romance because, "you're like a sister to me," can only be heard so many times before you take out your aggression on a hand dryer in the girl's bathroom.
And I didn't want to die.
Let's be honest, I sometimes still wish I was put together and witty and accomplished and that I could fit in wherever I go. That's just not the card the Lord planned for me to draw.
Through middle school and high school and into undergrad, I managed well enough academically and found a home in groups of fellow misfits and fit-outters. It is a relief to let your awkward turtle out of its shell and allow it to interact with others who find your awkward AWESOME. But fear stops us short, doesn't it?
Then my parents marriage ended and I felt a bit like a pawn and school got a little harder and walking pneumonia and summer school and terror on American soil and a glimpse of what romance could be and graduation and it was all too much.
And one day, I wanted to die.
And all of those bottles of pills that I hadn't finished or that I could get a refill on easily because I needed them .... well, they were my first answer. Until they didn't kill me, just made me sick.
MORE RECENT THEN
I believed the hype. Get the degree, get married, settle down, get ready for a career, build a family (starting with a puppy), and bask in the glory of all the gifts the Lord bestows on young people just starting out.
My attempts at adulting and being a dutiful wife and holding down a reasonably high paying, 40 hour work week job turned into a triple sow cow straight into the suck that I was nowhere near prepared for.
And I wanted to die. I didn't necessarily see this as I had the first time, though. There was no plan, there was no suicide letter, there was no, "t-minus 2 days," or any of the other warning signs. Instead, I just wanted to stop - for it to all stop.
THEN OF 2014
How does one absorb the body blows and vicious words, the blame as well as the guilt, the abandonment and the constant fear without breaking a little bit more each and every day? I still haven't figured that out but I do know that the desire to STOP and be GONE and to be DEAD has been closer to me than my favorite toe socks or my snuggly pup.
Feeling the life slip out of your heart and rereading the words you penned on late nights, lonely holidays, while sacrificing for another, and somehow still tinged with hope, I asked myself, "Self, and then what?"
Do you put all of this into it and them and him and all of it and you cross the finish line haggard and drawn? Do you lose sight of all that makes you YOU and layer on as much social grace as you can, simultaneously praying they can't see how puffy your eyes are?
Or, maybe, you die.
And I wanted to die at least once a week.
I have been disappointed and cast aside. I have had people completely betray my trust and leave me out to dry. I have battled racism, a body that doesn't want to function as it should, the hate of those who think interracial marriage is a sin (not an issue now that he left me), academic setbacks, bosses that make Hollywood depictions look tame, and financial struggles I didn't see a way to come back from.
And, I wanted to die most every day.
When you tell people what you're thinking, especially those you hadn't yet realized aren't your true, ride or die, put it in the vault type friends, you end up in situations and conversations that cause you to WANT to make a plan. Instead, you learn.
But, when the sun curtsies low, covering her golden petticoats with a sacred blue shawl, inviting her sister out to grace urban and rural life alike with her ivory smile, the inky black comes. The black that steals into every corner and hallway and memory and what if and why me and why now you could ever come up with. And he says to use your shame and fear as a morbid amusement park for his enjoyment.
And I really want to die.
Nearly every single day.
Including the day I put the finishing touches on this post.
AND, THEN WHAT?
Not my problem, right? I came into this world alone and I'm happy to go out of it the same way. Really? I just can handle this burden, weight, issue, drama, pain anymore. I get that.
But, then what?
When the papers or the interwebs report on your passing, will they share something you would be proud of? Not even Nobel Peace Prize big, but an influence you've had on someone's life kind of big! Or, didn't follow that guy who cut me off all the way to his final destination in order to tell him how I feel about his driving big deal stuff.
When it all stops, when your clock winds down, when the total of our physical, temporal limit is reached and we die, will you pass away feeling grateful for what you've been able to accomplish or carrying the bitterness that has rot your veins and miss out on love? No more do overs, game players. No 1UPs.
THIS IS WHAT
This is when my fear of and love for the Most High guides me to think . . .
THE WRAP UP RIGHT NOW
By no means am I dangling trite sentiment in front of you hoping the donkey will notice and that I can make the shambles of a rickety cart roll on when you feel that is the depiction of your life. To be honest, I have felt that way for a long time, so, you're not alone.
I am also going to refrain from dropping empty, recited and memorized bombs of scripture as though we stand on opposite fronts and the best way for me to win is to deaden your love for the Gospel. If you have something meaningful to say and you know the recipient can receive it or that it's time to share it, carry on. Just know, we on the receiving end can smell a fake 400 yards off.
Today, I wanted to die once. It was from pain and meds and medical bills and seeing no way to really change my circumstances.
But, I didn't try to die. And I'm not dead.
So take heart. Some things will take some time to improve. Some things are meant for you to drop by the wayside and keep it movin,' some things are waiting for you rather than the big fat "no" you perceived a while ago, and still some things are simply out of our control and we must ride the storm until it's over.
And when it is rightfully over, you will die. I hope you'll join me in committing daily to really live - in whatever blissful way that is for you - so the reasons to save your own life far outweigh the siren song of the inky black.
Let's fight on.
I am Christian Straightedge Christ follower, an Army Brat, an ex-milso, founder and CEO of FitnessAnyaMind, a sofa CEO, a nomad, a fur baby mom, and a mindset builder. I enjoy nature, reading, music, cooking, and taking care of those whom I love.