Ashley, if you happen to be reading here, please know that your children need you.
Like you, I live with depression, PTSD and anxiety, and like you, I have a son and a daughter. I love them more than anything, and looking at your FB pages, clearly, you do yours (by the way, you have gorgeous children). The pages are filled with pictures and videos of you doing things with them. It’s so apparent that you are a great mom.
Last Thanksgiving, I had the worst flashback of my life. I had been doing relatively well for some time, so it was completely unexpected. The following Monday, as the kids returned to school, I tried to take my life.
I still cannot remember any of this, but apparently I somehow managed to call my therapist. He later told me I wasn’t making any sense but immediately knew there was something wrong. He called 911, but he was at home at the time (he has given me his cell number, so that I can call him if I am in a crisis), so he had to drive over to his office to get my address.
Again, I don’t remember any of this, but when I called him, he apparently told me to call 911 immediately, and somehow I managed to do that. I have no idea how I was able to walk downstairs or unlock the door to let the first responders in. When I woke up in my hospital room in the neurocardiology unit the next day (I had had a seizure overnight while still in the ER), I couldn’t even walk to the bathroom without help.
A couple of days later, I was moved to the psychiatry unit. The following weekend, the kids came to see me there. They are 15 and 13 and fully understood what I had done. I felt so guilty because I did not want them to blame themselves and kept apologizing to them. They both told me to stop and gave me the biggest hugs.
When I was going through my divorce, I was terrified that I would never see my children, as their father threatened to use my illnesses against me in court. My therapist, psychiatrist and attorney all told me what was most important was that I show the judge I was committed to continuing treatment, both in terms of therapy and medication. I was still very much worried (honestly, I didn’t believe them), even after my therapist and psychiatrist offered to testify on my behalf. My children’s father and I now share joint custody; in fact, my daughter has been living with me full-time since the beginning of the year.
So come home, Ashley. Don’t let the negative self-talk win. There are so many people who love and care about you, they will welcome you back with open arms. And your kiddos, with lots of hugs and kisses.
[I’m sorry this post turned out so long!]
