Let's get real for a moment. Part Three.

**DISCLAIMER**

THIS NEXT POST WILL REVEAL AND DISCUSS SELF HARMING THOUGHTS AND BEHAVIORS. 

Thankfully, the physical harm done to my person was minimal. My thoughts, on the other hand, are quite disturbing, even for me to reminisce on. 

So please, if you think it will be hard or cause undo stress or anxiety, take a moment to ponder whether you want to continue to read this post. The last thing I want to do is dredge up past unhappiness or bring any unwanted, painful memories to surface again. 

I understand that some people will find this post informational and interesting, others may find it cathartic in some way, and yet others may find it difficult to swallow. 

So please proceed with caution. 

This story will be in at least three segments. I will post this disclaimer before each one. 

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This will be the final segment in this series of posts. It has been an illuminating ride thus far and I wish I could find words to express how much I appreciate all the love, support, understanding, sympathy, and general acceptance that I have felt from you all. It has made this process much easier and less painful than it could have been. I know that this is just my story and that it might not speak to many of you, but just putting it into words has been extremely cathartic. Not just for my healing process, but for family history purposes as well. I do not write in a journal, but this blog has certainly helped me to get what I'm feeling into print. It is something I can go back and read over and over again as I move forward and hopefully upward with my life. So thank you all for humoring me and again, for your amazing encouragement. I love you all. 

Ok, so this is the post where I get really real. I will talk about self harm in this post. Please, please be aware of this as you read. If it starts to get too uncomfortable or painful, please do not continue. The last thing I want is to unwittingly cause grief to someone when my main mission is to inform and teach and help.

So there I was. Going through the motions of life and motherhood but not really feeling anything. I was a shell of what I used to be. Things that brought me joy before were no more than annoyances now. I was constantly tired. Constantly cranky and withdrawn and liable to verbally attack anyone who made a wrong move around me. I'm sure my husband walked around on eggshells during my rough days. And I could always tell whether it was going to be a rough day from how I felt when I woke up. It wasn't whether or not I would have some "hard times" during the day, it was whether the WHOLE day was ruined for me and everyone in my wake. I had gotten to the point where it was either a bad day or a good day. Nothing in between. That's a hard way to live. And the weirdest thing was that I knew I was being unreasonable, but I just could not find the desire to care anywhere inside of me. It was seriously like I was dead inside. 

Starting in August of this year, Shon and I both decided that the medication I was on was probably not doing it's job anymore. So I started visiting my doctor. And we tried a series of different drugs. The sucky thing about that though, is that it takes a while to wean off the current drug and entirely onto the new one. My visits to the doctor's office were only once a month or so. Which meant that I had a month or more to deal with how the drug made me feel. And for the first little while, it would make a difference. But only for a while. 

The first new one I tried killed my libido. And for a couple who is trying to conceive a child, this caused problems. I didn't want my husband to look at, kiss or even touch me. I did everything I could to make excuses or feign sleepiness or blame my time of the month on it. But the annoying thing about it was that the act of "shunning" my husband would only make me feel worse, because I would start to think about how it is affecting him and how it's obviously not working for conception and whatnot. So even when I was thinking I was protecting myself, I was actually digging myself deeper and deeper. Self fulfilling prophecy, as they say. I couldn't figure out what I wanted more. To be left alone physically, or to get pregnant. 

Anyone who knows me, knows that I want another kid. Some days, the word "want" is a little strong, but I feel like we have another child that is supposed to be in our family. So when I say that it got to the point where I didn't want another child and I didn't think I could keep the child I had, it shows how deep I had fallen. I would cry during the day and just wonder how I could give Donovan back. Like, I would actually think about how many couples ended up giving their child up for adoption just because they couldn't handle it anymore. Now I know that sounds crazy and please believe me when I say that I WOULD NEVER, EVER DO THAT, but in the midst of all the feelings, it had crossed my mind a few times.

It also crossed my mind that Shon would be better off without me too. And there was a time when I seriously thought he might take Donovan and leave me. Looking back, I know I was just being paranoid and projecting my fears openly, but I remember actually having a conversation with Shon about it. Begging him to not take our child and leave. Thinking about how, if they did leave, I would kill myself because there wouldn't be anything else left for me. I was in a very dark place.

At the next doctor's appointment, I started a new drug that was supposed to help with libido again. And it did. For a week. I actually felt pretty good for that week. And then, just like a light switch, it stopped. I had such a crazy cocktail of drugs in my system, that I didn't even know which side effect was from which drug. It was while I was on this drug (Wellbutrin), that I started to experience the all consuming rages and self harming thoughts. 

Laundry day for us is always highly stressful. I wait until we're practically out of everything before I do it. Because we don't have a washer and dryer in our apartment, we have to walk everything over to the laundry room across the complex. It's just always an ordeal and usually an all day chore. I hate it. A lot. But it was on one such laundry day, when I had my first "blind rage". I call it that because I usually don't know where it comes from, but it hits me super hard. And the smallest thing can set in motion a chain of events that leaves the members of my family fleeing for cover. The funny thing is that I don't really remember what that small incident was, but I do remember standing at the bottom of our stairs, holding Donovan's laundry basket and being so consumed with rage that I was grinding my teeth, visibly shaking and getting lightheaded. I felt like I was going to pummel anyone who got in my way. I was able to hold onto control for the most part at that point and I could feel a small amount of personal worry underneath that thick, strong layer of seething redness. 

I went and started the laundry, came back home and ran up to my room. I was still SO ANGRY!! I paced the upstairs trying to calm down, but nothing was working. Every time I told myself to take deep breaths and try to relax, it was like a devil was inside of me throwing a tantrum and rebelling against any rational method of calming. 

This was the time that, for the first time in my life, I started to wonder if hurting myself would help. Before this, I had never quite understood how people could cut themselves. It seemed like a silly thing to do. I mean, doesn't that make you hurt even more??? But in this moment, it came to my head and it seemed like..... a relief. Like if I cut myself, I would be able to release some of the misery inside of me. Let it bleed out of me. Because that is what cutting does for people. It makes them feel something. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to have something to focus on and not stride aimlessly around, trying to get rid of the weight on my back. 

But I was upstairs and my boys were downstairs. Knives and scissors were not readily available for use. (Thank goodness!). So instead, I grabbed the first thing I could find that had a somewhat sharp edge. A comb. And this comb had super sharp teeth on it. It was one that we never used because it was too sharp on our heads. And before I knew what had happened, I had taken that comb and in another moment of unendurable anger, I raked it down the inside of my arm. It left red welts and scratch marks, but did not break the skin. Over and over I brought it down my arm. And with every swipe, I could feel my self calming down. What was also weird, was that I don't really remember feeling any pain. It was seriously just cathartic in a way. So now I knew what made people want to do it. I didn't even bleed, but I could almost feel all those feelings being swept away. 

But then I started to worry about what Shon would say when he saw the marks. So I made sure I was wearing long sleeves and then laid on my bed for about an hour, hoping the marks would subside. And they did a little. During this hour, I gave no thought to my son and whether or not I was inconveniencing my husband by disappearing. All I wanted was peace. I wanted to not be there. It's a strange feeling to not feel anything. I just didn't care. 

After that day, I began to try to find other ways to discreetly hurt myself. I would pull my hair until it was unbearable. I would pinch myself until I couldn't stand it. I would bite my tongue. Hold my breath. Dig my fingernails into my skin until dark purple marks would be left. But I never actually used anything sharp enough to break the skin or leave scars. I kinda felt victorious in that. Like I was able to do these things and no one would ever know. 

My desire to do anything was nonexistent. I didn't care about cooking or cleaning or anything. The TV was Donovan's babysitter and I would lay on the couch and get crackers or fruit snacks or whatever out once in a while for him to eat. I would put him down for a nap at 11:00 and he wouldn't fall asleep until 1:00 and then sleep until 3:00. So I usually had about 3-4 hours of "kid free" time and in my mind that wasn't enough. I have the most patient and loving and caring and understanding husband ever, and all I wanted was for him to stay at school, so I could be by myself and engage in these self destructive behaviors. I was also eating everything I could. I didn't care about the consequences and it was like I was fueling my fire and giving myself more things to hate about myself so that I could continue to self destruct. The future was not something I worried about anymore. In my mind I knew I wouldn't be around much longer anyway. But even with that "knowledge", I couldn't even get up the desire to change anything. There were days that I wished I could just die. To not feel anything. To be blissfully unaffected by mental anguish. I literally thought that everyone would be better without me. It was my gift to them. No more Kimberlee to be burdened with. 

I got to the point that I knew I had to do something, or I would start drawing the blood and leaving the scars. But when I was in this apathetic hell, it was so easy to do nothing. To just continue in my own sabotage. It would take an effort to try to change. To try to get better. And I just didn't have it in me. I remember the clarifying moment when I was able to snap out of it for just a second and realize that I was on a VERY destructive path. I was in the kitchen and having one of my episodes. Donovan was being particularly demanding and Shon was in school and I was tired and hurting and just ready to shut down. I remember looking over at the knife block and seeing all the knives just sitting there.

 How easy would it be to just grab one? Give myself a little knick and see how shedding blood would really feel. I stared at it for a long time. Then something inside of me started screaming for me to back up and get out of the kitchen. So I did. To this day, I don't know exactly "who" or "what" was screaming inside of me, but I am forever grateful for listening and getting out of there. I'd like to think it was the Holy Ghost, and maybe screaming was the only way to get my attention at that point. 

And I also found the strength that day to sit down and tell Shon everything. He was so worried about me. I could tell he was worried for my well being and our son's. He said that he would throw every knife away if he ever saw or heard me doing anything like that again. It was at this time that he told me I needed mental help. So at my next doctor's appointment, I set up a consult with a counselor. This would be my first step in emerging from the darkness.

One of the things I started to do was wear a rubber band around my wrist and when I felt like hurting myself, I would just snap that. It still gave me the relief through the sting of pain, but it didn't do what cutting does to a body. I also became very forward with Shon and let him know if I thought I was going to have a bad day. Gave him a head's up, so he could be more observant and be able to intercept anger inducing triggers. He has been such a blessing through this whole thing. And if I didn't know if he truly loved me or not before, I certainly know now. No one would stay with someone like me if he didn't really love me. He cried with me and held me and was there for me. And I will always love him for that and yet never be able to repay him for it too. I love that man..... <3

Since those days, I have finally found a medication that is working for me. I have been visiting a counselor, who has helped me visualize things that have helped me cope with my problems, I have started Weight Watchers, I have started this blog and have gotten a therapy kitty. I'm all in. I want to change. I want to get better. I will always be on some kind of medication. Depression and anxiety are not things that you simply "get over". But I have surrounded myself with coping mechanisms and support and love and victory! I am in a much better place right now. I wake up looking forward to what the day has to bring, rather than wish it would always be night. I am able to enjoy time with my husband and son, rather than wish them away. Writing this blog has been unimaginably helpful. Never in my wildest dreams, would I have thought it would be received this way. I find myself cringing and embarrassed about some of the things I have written, but I know I need to be candidly honest in order to help others. This is something that needs to be talked about. This is something that needs to be shared. It shouldn't be something that one is ashamed of. Just like a diabetic needs insulin to survive, so does someone with a mental disorder need medication to help regulate them. 

Depression does not need to be a death sentence. I ache for those who are still trying to find the light and get the help they need. I know that it wasn't until I WANTED to change, that I did. And I am not saying I still don't have hard days. There are still times when I hate myself and wish I could be better or prettier or skinnier. I still sometimes feel the actual physical aches and pains that accompany depression. I still occasionally find myself thinking that everything would be better if I wasn't afflicted with this disease. But I am also able to push through the fog and see the light at the end of the tunnel. That makes all the difference. I am surrounded by family and friends who love me and support me and pray for me. We all need that. 

Here is my wish. If you know anyone, in your family, a friend or even yourself, that has any mental disorder, please be there for them. It's so hard to do it alone. They may push back at you. They may rage at you. Say horrible things to you. But be there for them. The decision to get on the track to medication and therapy and a healthy life has to be made by them. And it is so desperately hard to make that decision when everything around you is fighting it. Be that person who never gives up on someone. You never know what a new day will bring. Today may be that day that they want to take that first step. I am so grateful, every day, that I have a husband who did not give up on me. It would have been soooooooo much easier and less painful for him to walk away. And I was NOT nice to him a lot of the time. But he stood by me. He was gentle. He was understanding. And when I needed him to be, he was strong and firm with me. I never felt attacked by him. But I also knew he wasn't giving up on me. I can't imagine how truly scary it must have been for him to see me this way. So for all those spouses or family members of people suffering, please don't give up! They need you! 

I am so very grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves me. He knows me. He knows what I'm feeling and He knows the limits of my body. But He also knows that I would have these problems in life and has blessed me with those people who have helped me make it through. I admit, my relationship with Him has been tested in these last couple years. But I have never stopped believing that He could hear me and that He was weeping with me. There are times I know for sure that He was carrying me. And I will always love Him for that.

So here's to another, more cheerful, chapter in my life! I am ready, baby!!! I have so much time to make up for. And I am truly so grateful to be here. To have been one of the lucky ones. To teeter on the edge of something truly frightening and be able to find myself backing away from the ledge, rather than falling in. It is a heady feeling. Depression sucks. Anxiety sucks. Mental illness sucks. But through the power of the Atonement, we can make it through. Just think. Jesus Christ felt every single feeling I have had. Every single tear I have shed, He has shed. Every scratch, every poke, every bruise, He has experienced. And for what? For me. And you. And all of us. I know that the pain and anguish I felt was nothing compared to what He felt. Yet while I was in the midst of it, it was unbearable. Never before had I thought so much about what the suffering in the Garden must have been like. Sure, I always thought of the pain He felt as physical. I never really truly thought about how He felt all the mental, spiritual and emotional pain too. By going through this experience, I will never be able to think about the Atonement again without thinking of them all. I love my Savior. I love my Heavenly Father. I love my husband and my son. And I love each one of you. Please know that I am here for any of you who need to talk or have questions or just need someone to listen while you cry. I am here. I am not going anywhere. And I love you. 

Thank you for sticking with me through my story. I tried to be as honest as I could, and once again, I am sorry if I offended anyone. That is not my intention. You are all so great and I am truly blessed to have you in my life.   

 

Lyrics

1. 1. I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me,
   Confused at the grace that so fully he proffers me.
   I tremble to know that for me he was crucified,
   That for me, a sinner, he suffered, he bled and died.
2. (Chorus)
   Oh, it is wonderful that he should care for me
   Enough to die for me!
   Oh, it is wonderful, wonderful to me!
3. 2. I marvel that he would descend from his throne divine
   To rescue a soul so rebellious and proud as mine,
   That he should extend his great love unto such as I,
   Sufficient to own, to redeem, and to justify.
4. 3. I think of his hands pierced and bleeding to pay the debt!
   Such mercy, such love and devotion can I forget?
   No, no, I will praise and adore at the mercy seat,
   Until at the glorified throne I kneel at his feet.
5. 
   
6. Text and music: Charles H. Gabriel, 1856-1932