It was a Sunday morning.
I woke up early, excited to wear my new dress and new boots to church.
While painting my nails pink, and curling my hair, I thought that "today is going to be the best day ever."
My sister woke up and kicked me out of the bathroom. She had to take a shower before we left for church.
Mom and dad were downstairs. Mom was mad. They were going to drive to church separate so that my sister and I could go to Sunday School.
After getting dressed, I looked down the banister and saw that my parents were sitting in the office. Mom was writing, obviously mad.
I walked down the stairs and gave my dad a hug goodbye. I walked around the big cherry desk to give my mom a hug. She just looked at me with glass eyes.
The letter she was writing did not have letters. It was only squiggles.
She began to have trouble breathing.
Dad called out her name. Yelling. Scared. Mad.
"911 What's your emergency?"
"I don't know. It's my mom. Shes not breathing well. Her eyes are glass."
Sirens began to ring, and then stop as they entered the neighborhood. The Engine and the EMS were parked in the road.
As they examined her, my dad found an empty bottle of Xanax. Sitting next to it was an empty glass of water.
The three-month prescription had just been refilled the week before.
The Police arrived and asked for our statements.
We were then following the EMS to the hospital.
She was laying in this little bed.
In a very little room.
They couldn't pump her stomach.
She woke later, saying that we should have let her go.
"You are better off without me."
The nurses were mean.
I could hear my sister screaming from down the hall. She never screamed.
We left to go home. Mom wasn't going anywhere tonight. The high was wearing off.
"Happy Birthday, Monkey."
"Thanks."
I looked down at my new dress. My Birthday Dress.
It was ugly. It was tainted. I could never wear it again.
This is just the story of my Mom's suicide attempt. Luckily, she was not successful. I got my mom back eventually. But it took a lot of therapy, a lot of patience, and a lot of healing. No one knew my mom struggled with the demons that she did. No one, not even my Dad, knew that she was so broken inside.
Just because someone does not seem to be struggling, that does not mean that they aren't. It just means that they are so strong, they do not want to burden others with their sadness. That is unfortunately the norm. We have lost too many beautiful souls due to the fact of sadness. We need to open our mind and hearts to spread love where it is needed the most.
Vincent Van Gogh
Sylvia Plath
Fredie Prinze Sr.
Kurt Cobain
Robin Williams
Aviccii
Kate Spade
Anthony BourdainMom
