You're more than the house

Hey friends and welcome back to part two of my riveting mental health story. As always remember that the topics brought up here can be triggering. I want to preface this next part of my journal with a tidbit of information to give some background. The view I had from my hospital room was actually my adolescent home. I wont go into too many details about it right now, but lets just say it wasn't a happy place. Thank you for taking the time to read about my journey.

Now onto part two...

Day two:

I had a weird sleep last night. The kind of sleep that feels like it was only five minutes. I woke up and the dark thoughts seemed so far away, even just for a moment. They came back, that nagging feeling that the world would be a better place without me. This morning in group I shared that it's like everyone I love is in a glass house, but i'm on the outside just watching. I'm watching them live and be happy, but here I am throwing rocks trying to get inside. I'm trying to get into the house, to feel how they feel, live how they live. But i suppose I don't actually know if the people in the house are happy... Maybe just maybe they are staring at me wishing they could break the glass. Maybe they think it's happier on the outside of the house. I guess that's the funny thing, you never really know who's struggling. The happiest looking people could be dying on the inside. I think that's how other people view me. I've been so good at keeping the mask on, giving advice, lending an ear, giving comfort... when on the inside all I wanted to do was run my car off the road. The urge to take a knife to my wrists isn't in the forefront of my mind today. Instead it's replaced with the anxiety of going home and having to put the mask back on. I don't want to hide behind it anymore, I just want to be me. Then I have to ask the age old question "Who am I?". That question scares the shit out of me. What if not only do I not like who I am, what if everyone who loves me hates me who I really am to. I already have a hard time thinking about why people like me for who I am right now. I think if they knew what was really going on in my head they wouldn't feel the same. Today I can't stop thinking about how much my husband and I hurt each other this year. The communication stopped, and the silence was deafening. Being back to work, and trying to find myself again after motherhood just added another mask to the ongoing plethora I had in my closet. I honestly had no fucking clue what I was doing half the time, the only thing that made sense was to push him away. I went for any distraction I could; I stayed away from home as much as possible. I wanted to hurt my husband because then at least I didn't have to think about what was happening in my head. It was all a cry for help. Once I realized I was hurting him, I didn't know how to get him back. Maybe this is why the switch in my head flipped, maybe this is why I started running full speed down that dark impossible hallway. If I slowed down then I would have to deal with everything really happening in my head. I think even now I don't want to face it. But I pushed him away, I am not the victim here. Just another fucking mask. Sure, maybe I didn't feel heard... or seen. I was what felt like a thousand miles away, how could he have possibly seen how much I was hurting. I just kept putting band-aids on bullet holes, but those holes bled out and all the sudden I couldn't ignore it anymore. The lights in my head went out, and the dread slipped in. I think I was trying to do anything to stop the dark thoughts, living in a world of distractions. So many things I could numb my mind with so I didn't have to focus on my dying brain. When I finally came up for air and opened my eyes I was on the other side of that glass house. Just watching my family be happy, my husband being father of the year, seeing how happy my kids are with him. So I thought well they're so happy, they don't need me. Pulling away was the easiest thing to do. In my head the house was happier without me in it. I pulled away because I didn't feel worthy of their love. Not my husband, or my children. How could they love a basket case like me? I didn't deserve their empathy. I didn't feel like I deserved this family I built for myself, they need a happy mother and wife. Not whatever I am. But then I stop and think, who gets to decide what we deserve? I built my family from the ground up, Josh stole my heart, and together we have three beautiful pieces of us walking earth side. I deserve them all. I am worthy of the life we have built together. My depression does not have to define me. I am a loving wife and mother. I can break the glass house, I can slow down and walk down the hallway. I can enjoy the here and now without it being taken away from me. The life I built is not going anywhere. But I need to heal before I can go back home. I am so much more then my mental health. I do not need to harm myself, life would not be better without me in it. It would shatter my families world. A family I dreamed my whole life of having. It's what got me through the abuse of my parents, thinking one day I'll break the cycle. To show that we weren't hard to love as children, that kids are bright lights and not burdens.

Overwhelmed and kinda want to snap right now. Why did I just have to listen to a nurse guilt trip me about wanting to end my life because I had kids? I fucking get that they are a blessing, you don't have to fucking tell me that. News flash, depression doesn't give a flying fuck about what or who you have in your life; kids included. Me wanting to die is because of me, it's a feeling so strong that it's bigger than my kids. This overwhelming feeling of death doesn't care how much I love my kids, or my husband... this deep dark feeling makes me think i'm their biggest problem and I should just go away. This feeling doesn't care about them, it just wants me dead. But I don't want to die, I just want to enjoy life again. But I don't know how and that makes me angry.

I talked to my boss today and shes just been so amazing, it feels great to know that my job is safe. That it's there when i'm ready for it, that it's not being taken away. Then I started thinking about what everyone else will think once the news spreads. I'm the strong one at work, the person you can always count on. Who shows up for others, is always a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold. Yet I can't take care of my own mental health? I feel shame that it got to the point that I landed in hospital. I feel like they are all going to judge me, and look at me differently. What if they look at me like I'm crazy? I feel like some are going to think it's my marriages fault, but in reality I'm in here because of me... no one else. It's my head, it's me that's broken, and I just can't cope anymore. So here I am in the hospital, trying to get better so I can be the strong woman I know I am. There is nothing wrong with admitting I needed help. I'm so proud of myself.

It's now past 5pm and I find myself staring at the house. The house where so much happened. The house that was full of so much hate. The house that almost killed me. A home where everyone was always yelling, fighting, and attacking each other. The house with no happy memories. I don't blame the house, how could I? The house didn't make my family hurt me, or make me try to take my life over and over again. No, the house didn't do any of that... It's simply just a house. The house might hold horrid memories, but I get to choose how I react to those memories. I am in the drivers seat. I am more than the things that were done to me in that house. Sixteen year old me would be so proud of the life we've built. I'm living the life I never thought I could have.

That concludes my journal entries from day two of my time on the mental health ward, thanks again for taking the time to read my real and raw thoughts. I hope you enjoyed. Day three will be posted tomorrow.

*If you or anyone you know is in a time of crisis, please reach out to your local hospital and help lines.Your life matters, you are so much more than your mental health.