Approaching my fifth anniversary

Around January 23, 2002, I attempted to end my life.  I usually start to feel rotten as I approach the date, but I am gradually feeling less rotten as time passes.

I was at work at the time, and I was pretty stressed out for a number of reasons.  Two family members couldn't drive their cars, so I was taking them to and from work, picking up my niece and nephew from preschool and the tutor (sometimes picking up my nephew from school and taking him to the tutor) and babysitting them at night.  Sometimes I had to do some of these things on my lunch break.  I just quit my second job, and I was still selling makeup to help with the bills.  I had to file Chapter 7 because of medical bills and a couple of high-interest credit cards.  I was tired, but I didn't want my family to know how tired I was since I finally got my first apartment and wanted to prove how well I could keep things together. Plus, the call center was tacking on more responsibilities in my department, and I was moved to that department in the first place because of stress.

 A friend of mine worked there as well, and I usually talked to her when I felt overwhelmed.  I sent her an IM to let her know I needed to talk, and she told me she was in the middle of a conversation and would talk to me shortly.  Each minute seemed like an hour, and I felt like I was going to explode.  While I was waiting, I got am email from a coworker who expressed her dissatisfaction at how I handled a customer's account.  This was a person I admired, and she never lashed out at me this way.  That was the straw that broke the camel's back.  I got up from my desk and walked out the door, across the parking lot and toward the street.  I only remember portions of that trip to the street, so I think I just snapped or something.

Traffic was picking up on the highway, and I stepped out in the front of a car.  However, my timing was off, so the driver stopped the car several yards ahead of me.  My heart was beating so hard, and everything seemed surreal.  A woman got out of a van in the next lane and asked me if I was okay.  I fell to my knees sobbing uncontrollably.  She and another coworker got me out of the street and into the security guard's small building.  Several people came over to check on me and hug me, including my brother-in-law who worked there also.  The friend I was waiting on earlier asked me if I wanted to talk to the pastor.  (We went to the same church at the time.)  I agreed, and she drove me there.  The pastor talked to me for a little while and let me know that the drivers could have gotten hurt as well as me.  He then prayed for me, and my friend took me to my place. 

Someone took my older sister to my job to get my car, and she took me to my younger sister's house to stay overnight.  My family was pretty upset, and I promised them I would never do that again.  The following morning, I called my therapist to tell him what happened.  His schedule was full, so he told me to go to the hospital to talk to someone.  The person was very kind and patient, and he suggested that I admit myself to get some rest for a few days.  I thougth I was getting a private room with a TV, but they took me to the Acute Psychiatry section and had me on suicide watch for about three days.  I hated it over there.  The food was terrible, they let us outside for a little while in a very small yard, and a couple of the patients weren't very nice.  I practically slept with one eye open. 

After I survived that, the doctor moved me to Intermediate Psychiatry.  I had more freedom to move around, the group counseling sessions were great, we ate in the staff cafeteria, and most of the patients there were wonderful people.  They were from all walks of life: an elderly women who had a thing for young men, a preacher's wife, a couple of ladies with small children, soccer moms, and so forth.  My roommate was very sweet and had a daugther that looked like Britney Spears.  Family and friends came to visit me, and I got a lot of encouragement from them.

I was in the hospital for a total of ten days.  I was ready to go home, but I was going to miss the patients and staff very much.  I got contact information and emailed or called them a couple of times, and I sent them Christmas cards.  I've lost touch with them since then, but I will remember how we bonded in the hospital.

After a few weeks on leave, I resigned from my job.  It was not the easiest thing to do, but I was dealing with panic attacks, fainting spells and so on since I started working there.  I was a few weeks away from my five-year anniversary there at the time, and I thought about losing my health insurance.  However, I felt that a different environment would be better for me.  I wonder what I would have been like if I stayed.   I worked at a few other places after that for a couple of years, but I won't get into that now.

I hope that I can fully recover from depression and panic disorder so I can earn money again.  I'd rather have my own gig, but if I do work for someone else, I do not want another high pressure job like customer service.  Time will tell what I finally end up doing, but whatever I do, I don't want to be on disability the rest of my life.

Father in the Name of Jesus, I thank You for protecting me and taking care of me during th emost difficult times in my life.  I ask that You show me which path to take in my recovery.  Help me regain confidence in myself and my abilities so I can make an important contribution to this world.  Most of all, I ask that You bless everyone who has been there for me during this journey: doctors, counselors, friends and family.  I thank You in advance for what you are going to do for me.  In Jesus' Name, Amen.