I love my life. I took a long time for that to be true. I could not say that even a year ago. Despite spending time in counseling, praying, reading, and working through my grief and losses I still was not happy with life. I most certainly was not in love with my life. I was so like the Israelites in Exodus. I kept comparing where I was to where I had been. I was certain I would not make it in the drought of my life. Nothing was the same where I was. I could not see all of the blessings that were bestowed upon me in the here and now. I only saw the rivers and fountains that flowed freely in my Egypt from my seat in my current barren dessert. I longed for the familiar. I longed for what I though had been security. I was tired of loss, grief, and change.
I had lost my mother to an unexpected death a few months prior. Loosing a parent no matter how old we are is losing the anchor to the past. My childhood and family of origin were now more remote than ever before. Even with her dementia she still represented that anchor for me. The way she lit up with the most beautiful smile, the moment she realized I had come for a visit. Her dementia mercifully let her forget all the other stuff in life. That look was love in it’s purest human form.
Losing her was yet another sea of grief I was not prepared to cross. I coped by plunging head first into dealing with her estate. Cleaning, sorting, painting, signing, and selling were avoidances to keep me from dealing with the real grief. Once it was all tidied up, I was left alone with my grief. I muddled through Thanksgiving and Christmas by moving into my new place. Unpacking boxes can be a great diversion too. Once that was done, I coped with yet another project. I dove into selling the house my ex husband and I had lived in. One more project to focus upon, so I did not have to think about anything else. I made it until March. So yet another project. Renovate the exterior of my new place. I made it until May. I ran out of projects and had to face my grief old and new. It was not pretty. It was as hot and painful as the Sahara must be.
The coupe de grace in my desert was a minor health crisis that required surgery. I had driven myself to the emergency department desperately trying to talk my body out of doing what I was certain it had done. The doctor confirmed my suspicions and I was left waiting alone in a surgery holding room. I had been here before, in and out of the bed. I had viewed it dressed in scrubs, street clothes, and in the hospital gown. This time it was in a new town and a new young doctor I did not know. I prayed and sent text messages until the phone was taken. Even with the pain meds dulling my thoughts, I do not believe I had ever felt so alone as I did then. I remember in my muddled thoughts telling God, “Well it is just you and me.” I woke some time later, minus an appendix, to my daughter, sister, and niece surrounding me. My recovery was not good for me mentally—a week at home alone. A nice floral delivery from the church arrived, but no visits. Calls from family and friends came on and off over the week. Of course I assured them all that I was “fine”. I lied. I was not fine on so many levels.
My vision and perceptions were becoming twisted. I had allowed filters to overshadow and distort all I saw. I made excuses for those in my life even being there. Friends and family came because I met needs for them—medical advice, financial assistance, free therapy, and other lies. I let the negative talk spiral me down and down and down. I was still in therapy twice a month and to my own detriment did not say a word to my therapist about the feelings I was having. I felt I was never going to be really healed emotionally. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. I was not sleeping. I could not turn my mind off in the evening to get to sleep. That led to difficulty getting up each morning. Higher doses of caffeine in the afternoon set me up for another late night. The cycle was on repeat. Sleep deprivation added to the physical and mental decline.
Yes, I knew God was with me. I knew the scripture that He would never leave nor forsake me. I just could not seem hold on to it at that time. In honesty, I really did not feel God was with me. How could He really be with me and all of these events happen? I was trying to hold on, but my hands felt empty. I had so much focus on the past, the hurts, the losses, I could not see a future at all. I felt very alone, very useless, and very afraid. This is exactly what the enemy wanted. He was quite cunning. He did not come at me full on frontal attack. He was like the lion that seeks who he may devour. He worked to cut me off from my herd and Shepherd—inside my own head. I began to listen to him and lagged further and further behind. That is when the thoughts started coming.
They were subtle at first. Nothing was shocking or accusing. Soft whispers of ideas swirled. They slowly became more pronounced thoughts. Unusual thoughts of how others would be unaffected or due to insurance even better off in some ways. A little stronger were the whispers of needing relief. Needing to be unburdened and wanting to be free. The statements declaring the current pain would be unceasing. This was life now, a path of pain washed in tears. The whispers and statements became more pronounced until that day they were screaming at me. I could not hear anything else.
I felt so alone. I was miserable. I had such pain it engulfed me. I had lost all I knew—all I had ever wanted. Gone was the happy home and loving husband. Gone were the sister and mother that held the family together. Gone was the house where I had raised my daughter. Every where about me all I could see were ashes of all that had been lost and destroyed in four short years. I was so tired of the pain that hit as soon as I opened my eyes in the morning. I was so tired of trying to walk wounded throughout the day. I was so tired of swimming in grief that came wave after wave. I was tired of facing it day in and day out. I was so tired…..
I had been at my job all day. I had a mountain of work to do and was not able to concentrate. I felt inept and incapable. I did what I could and walked away after everyone else left. I drove home in a silent car while ideas popped into my thoughts. The ideas began to link and a plan began to form. The thoughts became more pressured and urgent the longer I let them swirl. Vague ideas became concrete realizations. Items I had in the house formed a checklist in my mind. One crescendo thought took hold: I could make the pain finally stop. I could make it so I did not hurt any longer. I would be free of it all. I could just slide out and never have to come back. It all seemed so incredibly easy. It would be so very simple. I had no plans with anyone for the weekend. My daughter was going out of town, for a festival, so she would not be popping in to see me for at least a week. By the time I was discovered it would be completely done. I decided I was going to carry out the plan. The pressure of the thoughts increased exponentially. They were pouncing. I was so tired……
I pulled into my drive and panicked. My daughter was there. She was supposed to be at work. I was confused. I felt nearly stuporous. This was not part of the plan. I quickly entered the house. She grabbed me and hugged me hard. She said “Surprise! I couldn’t think of going nearly two weeks without seeing you.” She had taken off work to come to the house and prepared dinner as a surprise before she left for her trip. The web around me shattered. I cried uncontrollably while she hugged me tightly. I did not tell her why. She thought it was a bad day at work. She had no idea how she had been used to stop the enemy from winning a battle for my life that night.
I wish I could say I was instantaneously healed at that moment. I was not. I was however removed from a terrible spider’s web. Through a lot of prayer that weekend I poured the last of my hurts out to God. He listened, comforted, cradled, and spoke. The cacophony I had heard before was a faint strain. I began to see how it evolved. I was reminded of the book by Frank Paretti, This Present Darkness. For those not familiar with the work, it is a fictitious yet realistic representation of what I believe occurs in the world just beyond our vision. The world where good and evil come to blows in battles invisible to our eyes. The world Paul speaks of in Ephesians 6. There are dark spirits that seek to destroy. They hate us just because God loves us so much He gave His Son to die for us. They do all within their limited abilities to destroy us.
Whispers are one of those abilities. Falsehoods that pop in our thoughts out of the blue. Lies we mull and connect with others until a web of untruths forms such a distinct pattern it must be truth. Pressure to believe subtly becomes intense. Sticky like the spider’s web they cling, but have no strength aside from what we granted them. Prayer and scripture certainly can dispel the webs and falsehoods completely. Other times it is a daughter stepping in to prepare dinner to say she loves her mother.
A few weeks later I did enter a confessional of sorts. A dear friend who I had not seen for several months called for a dinner invitation. I know God placed her there for my confessional and to tie up some loose ends. I had no intentions of saying anything to her about that twisted experience or plan. I was ashamed to be honest. I believe God had another plan. After dinner and a lot of catching up, the story just came spilling out. I felt like I had vomited. There was relief in some ways, but what about the mess on the table now? My friend was shocked I am certain, though she hid it well. She admitted having no idea I would ever consider hurting myself and much less developing and carrying out a plan. She listened and most importantly did not judge, nor minimize my feelings in the situation. Then she did something I did not expect. She asked I remove the items on my checklist from my possession. In her wonderful boldness she held me accountable requiring photos of the removal. I did as requested and sent the photographic proof. I love her for loving me so much she held me accountable. Shortly after this I told my counselor of the events. He, too, was quite surprised I had any such thoughts. We began working on some new thought patterns and my grief.
Reader, I have told you this part of my journey for two reasons. First: If you have any such thoughts enter and take residence in your mind, I pray my story will encourage you that there is another way to deal with the pain. Please talk to someone. Please reach out. If you feel you have no one there are many hotlines to call (see below for some). Do not let the lies become the web that holds you. Remember they only have as much power as you give then. Talking breaks that hold and power. You can have life spoken into your situation. Second: If you have someone in your life going through a tough time, please reach out to them. A phone call, visit, or dinner could save a life. You may never know. Suicide often does not announce its victims until it is too late. Be bold enough to talk about it.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255
Veterans Crisis Line
1 800 273 8255