[reason 30] the bench

TW: suicidal ideation

There is a bench in this photo. It's to the left, near the shore. It's a peaceful spot, that is, unless you have a horde of small children with you. 

As I was crutching past that bench recently, I became overwhelmed with emotions, remembering a previous day on that bench. I had brought my children to the park to play and have fun, but mostly to wear them out so they would fall asleep quickly and sleep well. We were walking around the pond and they decided to stop and rest on the bench. And jump off the bench. And hang off the bench. And complain that their sibling was hogging the bench. I watched my children eventually settle onto and around the bench, some on the ground finding the prettiest Autumn leaves, the others inspecting the leaves and judging which was the prettiest. At that moment I realized two things: just how much I loved and adored my children and just how much I felt like a horrible mother. 

I felt like a horrible mother because I was always tired, always on edge, always just wanting to get to bedtime so I could have a moment to breathe. My house was a wreck. My mind was a wreck. My body was a wreck. I did my best not to let my children see the immense amount of pain I constantly suffered. I did my best to fill my children's days with music, art, reading, nature and fun. 

As they played on that bench, I situated myself between them and the water, making sure that no one got too near the edge. As I watched my children explore, I thought about how depressing it was that I didn't have a way out of the torture that was my body and my mind. It could have been so easy with the pills I had at my disposal. I would just sleep and not wake up. But I couldn't do that to my children. Or my husband. Or my best friend. But I didn't want to exist in my body anymore. It hurt too much, physically, mentally, emotionally. Losing the comfort of the thought of being able to end it all was devastating. It was at that moment that I realized that I needed to do something. Change something. 

As I crutched past that bench, I thought of younger me and I couldn't breathe. She didn't know it would get so much better. And she didn't know it would get so much worse. 

I still have many days that are nearly impossible to survive due to excruciating pain and exhaustion, but I have so much more life I'd love to live. 

It's funny - times are especially difficult right now. We have ever-increasing expenses due to medical and health costs not covered by insurance; the amount of gas we consume getting to and from medical appointments; the rising cost of everything; and our house, vehicles, and appliances not agreeing with us that nothing can break or fall apart this year. Finding and receiving proper medical care has been a huge issue for us. Everyone seems to have increasing physical and/or mental health problems. And the list goes on. But life goes on and there are so many things to look forward to. And reminders, such as the bench, as to how far we've come (and how far we still have to go!).