My Suicide Attempt

To read the background story of my struggle with depression, click here.

I've felt like I wanted and needed to share my suicide story for a while, but it's rather scary to share it. Now that it is several months later, I'm not embarrassed or ashamed about it. I've actually started talking about it in a matter of fact way during some conversations. In honor of National Suicide Prevention Week this week, I decided it was time to share my story. This post will give a timeline of what happened and share parts of journal entries I wrote while in the hospital (quotations in italics). It seems less scary to share what I've already written.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

I overdosed Thursday on Tylenol PM. I took 28 pills over the course of the day. Finally, I asked to be taken to the ER around 11:30 pm. I'm still not sure why I overdosed other than I stopped caring about anything.

I didn't recognize the warning signs the days leading up to Thursday. I've now since learned that I become enraged and then I just don't care about anything. It's a coping mechanism, albeit a bad one, for when I can't deal with the situation anymore. I don't recall a specific trigger for that day. I know I was angry and then said "Screw it. I'm done." And I meant it. I specifically went to the store to buy a bottle of Tylenol PM with the intention to kill myself. I took a few and went to sleep. When I woke up, I took several more. This happened over and over throughout the day. Finally, I was feeling nauseated and a rational thought kicked in.

I texted my friend, Liz and asked her to take me to the hospital. I'm very fortunate that I had the rationality in the moment to ask for help and that she was still awake.

Friday, April 29, 2016

I was cognizant enough when we arrived at the hospital that I could provide all the necessary information to check me into the ER. I threw up before being taken back to a room, so my stomach didn't need to be pumped. I'm grateful for that. Sometime after midnight, I was taken to a room and hooked up to an IV, was poked and prodded for blood tests, asked to give a urine sample (which is really hard for me even on a good day). Liz was a trooper and stayed with me for a couple hours. She contacted the people who needed to know where I was, such as my ward leaders, family, and work.

I spent the night in the ER room while they ran tests on my liver and monitored my vitals. Around lunch time, I was admitted to a regular hospital room under 24 hour surveillance. I had a CNA or nurse with me at all times. While there, more tests were done and more IVs were given to flush my system. I had a few visitors and several phone calls from friends and family to check on me. There was a mixture of shock and concern. A friend even brought me ice cream!

I was able to have a serious talk with the night nurse about what happened. It was the first time I felt safe talking about my suicide attempt. Most of the doctors I had talked to up to that point had made me feel like I was being lectured. I knew it was a very serious situation, so I didn’t need a lecture about that. If I hadn’t known the severity of the situation, I probably wouldn’t have asked to go to the hospital. I was thankful to have a nurse treat me as an adult and a person who needed help.

Saturday, April 30, 2016

Sometime after breakfast, the doctor came in with the test results on my liver. Everything was alright.

I could have done serious damage to my liver and body, but I am fine through the grace of God. It truly is a miracle that I did not have any permanent damage. This paradoxically feels like rock bottom and a good thing. I don’t believe in coincidences, so I will use this time in the hospital to focus on my recovery without too many distractions. For a long time, I have felt like I have been losing my faith. I think I was fooling myself and letting Satan lie to me. This experience has reawakened my soul to feel again. I still have time left on Earth to give to God.

I spent most of the day in my hospital room waiting to be transferred to the Behavior Unit. After being cooped up in my room for such a long time, my nurse and I did laps around the hall. We even gave my IV stand a clever name, although I can’t remember it now.

Around dinner time, I was transferred to the Behavior Unit of the hospital. I must say I was nervous beyond all get out. I had sent most of my things home with a friend because I knew there were more restrictions on the Behavior Unit.

The unit here is pretty restrictive. In order to keep us safe and help with recovery, I don’t have access to any electronics including my phone. Visitors can visit for one hour each day in the evening. Phone calls are less restricted, so I wrote down as many phone numbers as I could before having to hand over my phone. So far, the staff and other residents have been nice and offered me support.

I pretty much arrived with only the clothes on my back. My phone and a few other things that weren’t allowed were placed in a bin and locked away for safe keeping. I had a private room with a bathroom and a nice view out the window of the mountains. I almost could see my apartment complex down the street. Upon arriving, I felt so lost and alone that I broke down in tears in my room. The emotions of my reality were sinking in. The doctor came in for my assessment and found me crying near the window. He was really reassuring and one of the kindest men I have ever met.

Because my transfer from the regular hospital to the confidential unit was so quick, I managed to text a few friends and family the info before having to turn in my phone. There was one funny mishap that came from that transition. I had asked a friend to visit me after I was transferred. Here’s what happened.

[My friend] rode his bike to the hospital all the way from Sandy (about 9 miles) to visit me but was sent away because he didn’t know my floor. Because I am a confidential patient, I am not listed on the regular list at the front desk. He called my unit on his way home. He accused me of being a ghost and then told me all the items he had brought for me to help stave off boredom. Most of the items turned out to be not allowed, so it kind of worked out for the best. His gesture was really sweet. I appreciated his thoughtfulness so much that first day.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “Hello” to 741-741.

Just Like Piecing a Quilt

Healing is like making a quilt. 

A quilt starts off as bolts of different fabric in the store, perfectly content to be on the shelf. The fabric minds its own business until someone comes and cuts off a yard or two or three. Then the fabric is taken home where it is cut again into pieces of various sizes. The fabric may even wonder why it is being cut into smaller pieces.

The fabric doesn't know what pattern the quilter envisions, nor does it know the beautiful masterpiece it will become in the end. Sometimes, the quilt takes a bit of configuring if a piece isn't cut correctly or if the pieces don't fit quite right.

A lot of work, time and patience are required of the quilter as piece after piece is sewn together creating blocks. Assembling the pieces seems never ending. Blocks are remade if a piece was cut incorrectly. Mistakes are made, seams are ripped out and resewn. Blocks are rearranged until the perfect combination is found. Often, the original plan is changed a bit to create an even better masterpiece.

Then there is the intricate work of quilting the quilt, or sewing the quilt top, batting and back together. This can take a long time if done by hand. It's quite amazing to see a flat quilt top come to life as the tiny stitches add texture and compliment the quilt design.

As I chose these quilt pictures, I realized how long it took me to finish. I began piecing it in October 2013. I remember making the flying geese blocks (all the triangles) and cursing them because there were so many and because the sewing had to be perfect for all blocks to be straight. I finished the quilt top in February 2014 in time for my friend's baby shower. But it took me until August 2014 to quilt it by hand and finish the binding- just in time to enter it into the State Fair.  It was a labor of love and my favorite quilt I have made so far.

What does this have to do with healing? It's the same process. I think I'm in the sewing and seam ripping stage, where things feel worse as they are improving and the light seems like it will never return. But all hope is not lost! It is that same labor of love I need to put into myself. Work, time and patience are required for healing. I have faith that working through my depression will ultimately lead to the masterpiece of my life quilt that God has planned. I cannot see the outcome, but I know He can. I just have to hold onto that.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “Hello” to 741-741.

Depression: My Unwanted Companion Part 2

Depression is a mental illness. Major Depression is one type and is defined by the National Institute of Mental Health as "severe symptoms that interfere with your ability to work, sleep, study, eat, and enjoy life."

Depression can have several symptoms. This time, I seem to have emotional extremes with no middle ground. I either have a good day where life feels normal, or I have a bad day where I am really sad, frustrated, angry, or anxious. (By "bad day", I mean a day where my depression is overpowering and outweighing everything else.) There have only been a few scary times when I felt completely empty. One of those times resulted in an overdose attempt, which is why those times are so scary to me.

There have been countless people who have supported and loved me through all of this whether I reached out to them or not. I am grateful for the friends who have stuck it out and haven't left me. The biggest paradox of my depression is the desire for isolation and desperate need for friends. I hesitate every time I reach out to someone, especially on the days I am most drawn into myself.

Because I know how difficult it is when a friend with depression reaches out to you, here are two recommendations on articles for what to say or not say to someone with depression: here and here.

When I reach out to someone during a panic attack or a bad day, I'm seeking reassurance that I am not alone and that I will survive whatever I am going through in that moment. Comments such as "I'm here" or "You will be okay" are the most helpful to me.

One of the side effects of my depression is I have become a very timid and shy little girl. As I said before, I often hesitate to reach out to someone because I feel like I am bothering them. I know I am not a bother, otherwise, the people I reach out to would have told me to get lost long ago. However, I still feel that way. I often push through it and still reach out, and sometimes, I don't. 

The hardest thing about feeling so timid is I often turn to only two or three people when I need help. The most common phrase I hear in some form or another is someone asking how they can help. I often won't ask for what I need because for whatever reason I think I just can't ask someone to help with that. Honestly, help with things like laundry, cooking, grocery shopping, and cleaning my room is what I need most, but I'm often too embarrassed, prideful, or I lack the energy to ask for what I need.

This isn't the end. One day at a time is all I can do for now. And that's okay.

Recommended posts from the To Write Love on Her Arms blog:

Five Lies Depression Told Me

For Those Who Have Stayed

But Your Life Isn't That Bad

Click to read Part 1.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “Hello” to 741-741.

Depression: My Unwanted Companion Part 1

This is a really scary two part post for me, but it's one I've been thinking about for a while now. After reading a blog post today on the To Write Love on Her Arms blog asking people to share their stories before they are finished, I decided today was the day. Here is my story as it is being written.

I may have dealt with depression before this, but the first time I knew for sure I was struggling with depression was after my mom's stroke three years ago. Expecting to spend Christmas in Venice that year, I stopped in Washington to visit my parents before I was to leave. When I arrived in Washington, my dad and I went straight to the hospital to visit my mom who had gone in the day before. I learned my mom had had a stroke and changed my plans to stay in Washington to be there for my mom and dad. 

After spending nearly a month of taking care of my mom and being a support for my dad, I returned to Utah emotionally depleted. I had nothing left to give. I retreated into myself over the first few weeks I was home. I know I wasn't a pleasant roommate at the time. (Thank you for still being my friend after that Adri!) Reading became my refuge; I devoured book after book. I read 15 or so books in two months, which eventually led to my reading goal of 50 books that year. During this time, I also started therapy. I remember using a scene in a comic strip to describe how I felt to my therapist. I felt as if I was trapped in a dungeon much like the following scene from Rose is Rose by Don Wimmer and Pat Brady. 

Through the personal work I did in therapy and the constant love given to me by my friends, I eventually made my way out of that dungeon and stayed out for a long time.

Then 2015 happened.

This year has been one of the hardest years of my life. After dealing with constant panic attacks for the first half of the year and heartbreak, I managed to find myself back in my dark dungeon called depression. There wasn't an evident cause like last time, although my guess is it was again depletion depression. Anxiety and depression are two sides to a teeter-totter. They are often found together.

At first, I thought I was just dealing with homesickness because I had recently returned from a week of visiting my parents in Washington. But the sadness lingered and worsened. I retreated into myself and hid in my room. I think there was a week where my roommates didn't see me at all. I stopped going to church for several weeks and cancelled on plans with friends. Frankly, it's amazing I made it to work those weeks.

People began to notice and reach out to me, which I appreciated; however, I wasn't ready or willing to ask for help. I kept thinking things would improve as if by magic. They didn't. My depression started interfering with work and with my health. I stopped eating and didn't sleep well. I felt as though I was under an avalanche and the more I kept trying to get out from underneath it, the more it caved in on me. It was kind of like this Wile E Coyote clip:

Finally after about a month of trying it on my own, I admitted I needed help. I met with my bishop in one of the hardest interviews of my life. He put me in contact with a wonderful therapist two days later.

Continued in Part 2 

If you or someone you know needs help, visit this suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “Hello” to 741-741.

Music Choices and Sunsets

I've had a hard time finding good music to listen to while I'm running. Tonight, I decided to turn on one of my favorite albums, and it actually worked! It has a bunch of upbeat songs, and I know all the words. Singing along kept my determination up. There were even a few times when the music slowed down when I did or sped up when I needed to push till the end of the interval. It really made a difference tonight. The best part is the whole album is about the same time as my workout. So, until I make a playlist on my phone, I'll be listening to this album for a while.

I'm sure you're wondering what the album is, so I'll tell you. It's the Sons of Provo soundtrack. You can laugh at my music choice. This is one of my favorite spoof albums that I listen to when I need to smile. (Running it definitely one of those times.)

But the best part of tonight's run was seeing the blazing clouds in the sunset. It was beautiful. I'm starting to believe runners get to appreciate the beauty of nature in a very personal way. It makes me actually look forward to running in the mornings. Go figure.

Today's Workout

Total Distance: 2.43
Total time: 35:51
14:45 mile average

One of Those People

I never thought I would be one of those people. You know, the ones who say they need to run or need to exercise. Or the ones who endlessly talk about their workout. Now, I am.

I've never been one with a desire to go running, but today was one of those days. I anticipated my run all day. Sitting at my desk, I was anxious to run away the frustrations of work. Apparently, running off frustrations works for me. I pushed myself through the workout even when I thought I couldn't run another step, and I had my best time yet!

When my training plan asked if I wanted to start training at a new level based on today, I clicked yes. It's really, really satisfying to improve enough for that question to pop up.

I also learned that shoes make a difference. The last few times I ran, I wore my everyday shoes I wear for everything from hiking to kickball. Today, I decided to wear my good running shoes, and boy, did that make a difference. It almost felt like running on pillows. I could tell there was less jarring on my body because the shoes absorbed more of the impact. I will never go back. Ever.

Today's Workout

Total Distance: 2.34
Total time: 33:11
14:11 mile average

Small Steps to Progress

I made the mistake of telling my friend (you know who you are) what day I planned to run last week. When he followed up with me on that day, two feelings occurred- a feeling of surprise and a feeling of chagrin. I was surprised he remembered and chagrined because I hadn't gone running. I didn't end up running that day, but I learned my lesson.

I recently read this book about running that inspired me. It's one I'll read several more times. The author shares her story of how she became a runner along with training stories and funny antics along the way. She and I are very similar in that we grew up as bookworms instead of athletes. What I love most about the book is she is a self-proclaimed average person like me. It gives me hope that if she can run a marathon, I can run a half marathon.

I've decided to adapt something my team does at work. Each Monday, we pick a statement to focus on during the week to foster a better team atmosphere. I'm calling it my Mantra Monday! I'll pick a new quote or saying to inspire my training for the week.

This week's mantra is one I've used in my fitness journey a lot, but I think it really applies this week.

It's all about progress not perfection!

I really love this quote by Elder Bednar because it so eloquently reminds me that progress is what leads to perfection.

It's the small steps, figurative and literal, that make goals and dreams become reality. Each step adds upon the last until the entire distance has been crossed. That is a hard lesson I am learning this week.

Today's Workout

Total Distance: 2.25
Total time: 35:29
15:46 mile average