Wednesday, February 27th, 2008
It was january 12,1994. I was then 13 years old. My mom was at work . My older sister and I were cleaning up the house, getting ready for bed, it was shortly after 10:00pm. And our mother would soon be home from work. She would usually get in by 11:00pm. She was on the second shift. She worked as a nurse at a nursing home from 3 to 11pm.
We received a phone call from her job around 10:15pm from one of the nurses she worked with asking us, what kind of medicine did our mom take? At the time we knew she had high blood pressure but we were not sure of the type of medicine she was taking. We were to young to know. I then told the nurse to call my grandmother and I gave her the number, I stated to the nurse she would know more about that then we would.
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Sunday, January 27th, 2008
My name is Heather. I suffer from depression. I find that people don’t understand depression as a disease. It runs in my family. My Dad committed suicide when I was nine. BAM! The thing is I didn’t meet him until I was 7. We share the same birthday: December 28. I had a father for 2 years of my life. The other thing is I carry all the depressive genes he had. I never knew how he could commit suicide when he had two girls.
I grew up, am married and I have 2 beautiful girls. I love them with all my heart.
Back to the depression-I suffered for years and saw many doctors and they just medicated me and the therapists didn’t get it. Unless you have suffered major depression you don’t know how it feels, waking up wishing you hadn’t, feeling like you can’t move, not wanting to see anybody, and in my case hating myself because I couldn’t get up and play with my angels. I just lay on the couch, couldn’t sleep, doing just enough to keep my kids healthy. I didn’t care about me and my husband had to step up and take care of the children when I couldn’t. I felt nothing. I would have rather felt pain than feel nothing. I was in the bathtub one day; just in the water thinking now was the time to commit suicide. Depression took over me, no one could fix it, I felt nothing, I felt my husband and girls would live without me. The disease took over me. It takes over people who commit suicide. I understood how people could kill themselves when they have everything. At that moment I was dead.
I couldn’t kill myself where my kids would find me. I planned on going to a hotel and killing myself with pills. Then when I was dying I would start slicing veins to make sure I died and didn’t start throwing up the pills. At checkout time someone would open the door and find me. I didn’t do it. I don’t know why. I finally knew how my father felt when heput the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. It wasn’t that he didn’t love me. The disease took a hold of him. It wrapped itself around him and made him feel that all would be fine if he died. People would go on and he wouldn’t be in pain anymore.
I’m alive. I’m not dead anymore. I got help and found a great psychiatrist and a great therapist. I empathize with people who have killed themselves and those with depression. I feel when a person is depressed. I want to help. Some just don’t want help yet. Now I have my depression under control and will never forget the day I “died”. Now I am thankful I wake up, that the sun shines, I play with my kids now and enjoy every minute. Finally I got what I always wanted-to be cured of depression before it killed me and traumatized my family.
What would my girls have done without a Mom? I’m so thankful I “died” and came back to life. Now I have a new understanding for depression and want to help others overcome it.
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