I hit rock bottom one year ago today.
How do I know it was rock bottom? I was voluntarily (somewhat) admitted to a psychiatric hospital. The culmination of a lifetime of fighting to heal my mental health my own way, and failing.
There is no way I ever thought that I would end up in hospital, the suicidal thoughts intruding in my mind had reached the stage where I could not ignore them any longer. I had made up my mind that I was going to end my life, I’d made my plan, and I’d written my letters to those I loved and would leave behind. It was just a matter of finding the right time, a time that would cause the least disruption to the lives of those around me.
I can say without any doubt that without that help and intervention, I would not be alive today. And I am so very thankful to my husband and my doctor for arranging to have me admitted, and the support given to me ever since.
There are no adequate words to express how much it means to reach this “milestone”, or rather the words to express the relief that I’m still here, with my gorgeous kids and the man I love. There aren’t enough words to thank those who have helped me to get here!
I just want to assure anyone who can see no end to the pain of depression that there is always hope, as long as you are still alive. A year ago, I had no hope. A year ago, I had decided to end my life.
Today, I am here. Today, I can even feel joyful. Today, I can recognise that while I still have a long way to go, I have come so far already!
Today, there is hope!