Because I had mental illness I thought I would not be good enough. I would not be a good enough person, I would not be a good enough wife and I would not be a good enough mother.
I thought that I was worthless. Nothing.
I imagined that my family would be better off if I were not in their lives. That they deserved better. A better wife, a better mother.
My hospitalization and therapy helped me to realize things differently.
Talking to the doctor and nurses in mandatory therapy helped to mold my thought process into something that made a little more sense.
They explained to me that if I had a physical illness like diabetes or cancer it would not make me less of a person so why should a mental illness make me feel that way. At first I just could not grasp it. It made no sense to me.
But, If the role was reversed and you had mental illness I would be the first person to tell you that it did not make you less of a person, that you were strong, that you deserved to live. But within myself all I could do was see the negative, feel the depression and continue to hate myself.
I hated everything that I had become. Everything that mental illness did to me. I hated my decision process, I despised.
One thing that a nurse told me was that statistically if I committed suicide my children would have a higher possibility of doing the same. This struck me fiercely.
The last thing I wanted was for my children to end up attempting suicide because of decisions I made, or because they felt inadequate because of something I did.
This was the beginning of fighting the suicidal thoughts. Really fighting them. It was not easy, but I had to start somewhere.
My kids and my husband were the reason that I wanted to live.
I did not know what I was going to do with that life, with that willingness to fight, but I knew it was a start.
And I made these decisions for my family.