I have written before about my 48th birthday and what a low day that was for me. It was my second birthday since D-Day, although I don’t remember much about that first one. I just know I wasn’t terribly depressed. Or maybe I was; it’s possible I was still waiting for CF to send me alimony and child support after he had moved out of the state and left the company he had worked for for 15 years. I might have been thinking I was going to have to move out of my house, leave everything behind, disrupt my children’s lives, and move back to Indiana.
By 2017 all of that had happened. Everything was gone. I was working two jobs. I worked 6 days a week and 13 hours a day most days. I was poor. Even working two jobs I barely made enough to cover the bills, feed us, and buy the essentials.
I remember crying that morning as I came home from my first job and got ready for my second. I didn’t see how life would ever improve. I was still at that point where I begged God every day to please strike me dead so I didn’t have to go on living this shitty, shitty life. I shut down my Facebook because I couldn’t bear to have people wish me a happy birthday. I didn’t want to go out and celebrate. My brother and his family ended up coming over to my house and cooking me dinner.
I don’t mean to be glib. I realize that there are a lot of things going on when a person decides to kill themselves. I don’t think it’s as easy as saying, “Don’t do that.” Depression is a very serious illness and many times you need professional help to get out of it. I also know when you’re going through a messy divorce it seems like life will never get better. I’m not sure I would have categorized myself as clinically depressed but life sure as hell wasn’t a fun time. Like I said, I would drive around screaming out my fury and despair. I once was so hysterical a guy in a truck in front of me was looking around to see what all the ruckus was about.
If that’s you right now, if you think there’s no point in going on because the person you loved deserted you, please stay. It does get better.
In February of 2017 I was begging for death. In April I received my back support and a weight was partially lifted. In May I met the mobster. In November I finally had my day in court and later that month found out I had kicked his ass. All those times I was certain he was going to get away with it all did not come to fruition. I won. And finally, in December I was divorced from him.
My birthday in 2018 was a completely different experience. I’ve written about that, too. The mobster sent me flowers at work. He bought me a beautiful ring. He video chatted me that morning just so he could see my face. My son bought me a gorgeous amethyst set and then wrote me the sweetest note, telling me how much he loved me and appreciated me and how hard I work. My daughter bought me roses, an iTunes card, and my favorite pj bottoms. My mom rocked her gifts to me. I got Facebook messages and texts. I went out for sushi with my brother and sister-in-law. I let my co-workers know it was my birthday so I got happy birthday wishes from them as well.
This year was even more amazing. I’ll write about that more in another post, but suffice to say, if God had granted my wish I would have missed out on all this wonderfulness. Don’t get me wrong. There are still days I feel overwhelmed. There are still days I feel like I’m spinning my wheels for nothing and like I’ll never get ahead. But overall I’m happy.
I never thought I’d get to this point when I was in the middle of all of that crap. More importantly, if I’d gotten my wish I wouldn’t have gotten to this point. I would have died a sad, depressed, poor woman instead of emerging from that hell as the person I am today.
I can’t tell anyone it’s definitely going to get better for them. I believe it eventually will but I don’t have a crystal ball. What I do 100% know is that if you don’t stay you’ll never get that chance to reclaim happiness.