Understanding My Depression And PTSD

I’ve been dealing with depression my whole life. Albeit throughout the years the depression was far and few in-between, I never really digested it to find out the answer(s) to where it all came from. However, in the past year I’ve been staring that issue in the face with a determination to get my answer(s). I’m also learning how to deal with my PTSD that has plagued me for the past 13 years since my fathers suicide. Now you may be wondering why after all these years I’m adamant about getting my answer(s)… well to put it simply, I’m just tired of fighting myself. I’ve spent a life time just trying to get through life but the older I get I want more. I want more of peace, truly loving myself and really being happy. I guess what I’m searching for is that fun, happy, loving little girl that my grandmother always saw in me. So to recap on my depression episodes, the answers I found within myself along with therapy in the past year. And the biggest elephant in the room question of why I’ve unconsciously been on a path of self-destruction pretty much my whole life… let’s begin.

I was 7-8 years old was when I first uttered the words out of my mouth that I wanted to kill myself. You see my siblings would tease me and I would get so upset that instead of just throwing a temper tantrum, I would scream at the top of my lungs that I wanted to kill myself. Yes, not your typical response for a kid and through out the years I never understood why I would respond that way. It wasn’t until later in my early teens that I experimented with cutting. I would take a razor and just dig it into my wrist. I don’t think I was seriously going to hurt myself but at the time it seemed to numb my emotional pain. When I was 17 years old I was in school and started to take sleeping pills throughout the day. I remember saying something to my friend about what I was doing. Shortly after telling her I was called to the office where my mom and step-father came and got me. That was the first time I was ever admitted into the hospital for a suicide attempt. Throughout the years I felt like every blue moon I would get depressed and want to take my life. I would always turn to my dad during those times and he always knew how to talk me out of it. In reverse, he would do the same with me. I know it’s odd but during those times it didn’t phase me of what was mentally going on between him and I. It was a long time after high school that I didn’t even have a bout of depression or wanting to take my life. I was probably in my 30’s when the next episode of depression happened. I was a feature dancer and on the road touring for almost five months. I had gotten so exhausted physically and mentally that I just didn’t want to deal with life anymore. I use to carry my gun with me when I traveled and one night in Orlando, Florida I had a major depression episode. I remember sitting on the edge of my hotel bed with the gun in my hand and contemplating ending my life. I had called my son’s father and thankfully he talked me out of it. Now it wasn’t until that horrific day in June of 2006 when my father took his life that I ended up with PTSD. That day not only gave me PTSD but it also added fuel to the fire of my on and off again episodes of depression. After witnessing his death I had then encountered over a half a dozen of suicidal attempts. That last suicide attempt landed me in the hospital and almost had me succeeding in ending my life, my older sister saved my life that night. That night was like being in the twilight zone. I just had a major surgery a few days prior, I was rushed to the hospital for an emergency surgery dealing with my ovaries. I ended up having a Laparoscopy surgery with hopes to save my left ovary. The doctor was able to save my left ovary but also found out at that time that I had Endometriosis stage 4. My older sister and mom were going to come down to Tampa to help me out after surgery but the night before changed all of that. Apparently I took about 100 narcotics and drank a big bottle of wine. I then supposedly sent a friend a text message asking, how many pills does it take to fall asleep. Then texted one of my sisters sons saying, I love you but I’m going to go be with grandpa. My sister freaked out and ended up calling the Tampa police department to have them go check on me. My sister didn’t think they would take her seriously because she was calling from out of state. From what I heard, the police came and my door was unlocked, my gun was loaded in my bedroom and I was unconscious on the couch with my dads police jacket on me along with a suicide letter next to me. Months later I went to that police station and got my police report from that night and it had a copy of the suicide letter in it. You may ask why I would want it… well, it was something to remind me of how deep and dark of an emotional pit I went into and hopefully not get into that moment again.

Like I said, my depression episodes were far and few throughout the years until my father’s death. But in the past thirteen years there were two suicidal attempts that scared the shit out of me. The first one was in February 2013 when I unconsciously tried to attempt taking my life. I know some of you may not understand that but I also know some of you will. When I got out of the hospital I had really questioned what the hell just happened. I remember on that day my husband was at a gig, I was in a happy mood drinking a glass of wine and just enjoying that evening. I mean all the other attempts I pretty much knew what I was doing. But this one time I had no intentions of taking my life nor was I unhappy. It was like my unconscious state of mind just took over. Apparently I took 100 narcotics and when my husband came home later that evening, he said he found me unconscious in my own vomit. He had thought I was trying to take my life again but it wasn’t till I was able to talk to him that I told him I had no intention of doing it. After I got released from the hospital I was trying to figure out how could I unconsciously want to take my life when consciously I didn’t. Not knowing the answer to that question had scared the crap out of me! So one day my inner voice said, “Either take your life and get it over with or get your shit together.” Luckily that inner voice shook me up enough to start reading self-help books, motivational quotes, Philosophy, and start me on my Spiritual Awakening. It took awhile but the next few years after that episode I started to do a lot better. I still had some depression but had a better grip and view on life with the knowledge I gained from reading and through my spiritual growth. Although my new perspective on life and positive spiritual journey wouldn’t last long….

My marriage was failing and after four years of trying to keep the marriage together, I finally decided to file divorce. In 2017 I left Florida, I had four animals at the time and it was the hardest decision deciding which two to take. I did end up taking with me my first cat (Spooky) and first dog (Mylo). I wish I could of taken all of them with me but I couldn’t afford or manage four animals in an apartment. I had changed bases from Baltimore to Chicago and got a place with my son. I thought being back home around family would help and I could start all over. But shortly after living back home I got into a car accident and spent a majority of time in pain, seeing doctors, going to therapy, getting steroid injections and missing out on work. I had just gotten out of debt after my divorce but now I was slowly getting back into it. After a year my son decided to move back to Florida and in with his grandparents. I had decided to stay in the SW suburbs and move in with my sister and her family. But right before my son moved I had lost my cat Spooky to a sudden onset of cancer. It was the first time I’ve ever had to put an animal down and I was so devastated. I tried to see the positive side, that at least I had almost thirteen years with him and he was my lucky black cat that was an amazing companion. But I didn’t realize it at the time that my life was in the beginning stage of uncontrollable spiral. I moved my son back to Florida and stayed at the apartment for another month before I was going to move in with my sister. However the Universe and my intuition had other plans for me. I ended up moving and changing bases to Las Vegas and leaving my dog with my sister (which was the hardest decision but in the end it was the best for him). I always thought I’d move back out West but live in Vegas? I didn’t see that coming.

So in May 2018 I was back in the West living in a casita (which is like living in a college dorm) with no son, no animals and all by myself. It was emotionally rough for the first few months and I was still not on a regular work schedule due to my car accident injuries. I felt like I was stripped from everything I loved and placed in the desert to just die. I started feeling the depression kicking in and I was seeking out men to desire me. With the last husband cheating on me, I was on a mission to prove to men that I was worthy to be with. It wasn’t till one day I noticed all the little red flags. I kept thinking to myself that this isn’t me or what I’ve been working on years to become. Surely not this type of me, confused, desperate and feeling unloved. So I reached out to a therapist and started seeing her to figure out what the hell was going on in my life. After several months of seeing her I started to get more clarity and really look in the mirror and ask myself, “What happened to you?” It was then I realized that I had nothing to prove to anyone except myself. That the Universe stuck me in this desert for a reason, that reason being… I had to stop running, face my fears, find my true self again and learn to enjoy being alone. So I stopped looking for love and approval from men and really started working on liking and loving myself. To be true to myself, I was searching for that little girl my grandmother loved. But I wasn’t alone for long when I met this guy that I found to be my soulmate. The timing was so right but so wrong at the same time. He had met me when I was mentally trying to figure it all out and was going through some storms that I needed to be in. His name is Michael and in 2020 it will be a year that we have been together and I do live with him. I had met him on Tinder, I know you all may be thinking that is funny. Heck, it was more like entertainment to me at that time. Or maybe it was just me looking for any sort of attention, something to validate me and make me feel wanted. I remember I had come across his profile before and when I looked at the pictures he had posted, I thought to myself, um no this guy seems too hoity toity and into himself. Now I’m not sure how Tinder works but a week or so down the line, his profile came up again. This time I said to myself, hey why not? The first three days we chatted for hours! We had so much to talk about and so much in common. I remember that my son was in Vegas taking care of me after another ablation procedure. One of my nights during recovery I had gone outside and talked to Michael for a long time. We were trying to plan getting together for the first time. When I told him my schedule, he said well I guess I’ll see you in a month because it seems like you have a full schedule. I bluntly said to him, how about a coffee date tonight? I said, I just had a procedure done and have no make-up on with my hair up but I’m not vain and available to go. So within an hour he came by to get me at my place (which I normally don’t do) and we went for coffee. We had a great conversation, some good coffee and then he dropped me off at home. From that day on, we were inseparable.

Now back to the second time that I unconsciously tried to attempt my life. I was out with co-workers having margarita’s and tacos and my boyfriend was out of town. When I got home I’m not sure what happened but apparently I took a bunch of pills and called my boyfriend to tell him I love him. He said I didn’t sound right and he called the police. I ended up in the hospital and for the second time scared to death of the unconscious attempt to take my life once more. But once again, it was an eye opening experience that smacked me in the head to get more adamant about getting answers and taking control of my life. This is were my therapy sessions got intense because my therapist had me dig into my past. To search for the answer(s) of where this depression started and to finally let go of my father’s death. During a session we realized that I was an Empath (the capacity to understand or feel what another person is experiencing from within their frame of reference). That when I was a child I was around someone who was dealing with depression, that being my father. So I ended up taking on that feeling but not really understanding what it was but made it my own. Then with the teasing I got from my siblings, she just reiterated that it’s just something that kids did. And that when I was saying, “I’m going to kill myself” it wasn’t that I really wanted to or knew what that even meant. It was just something I would say because I wanted out of that moment and out of that emotion of not feeling loved or different. As far as the PTSD with my father’s suicide… I was always close to him and thought of him as my shield as I did with my grandmother. However my grandmother died of a natural death at 95, my father didn’t. I never really digested my emotions/feelings of my fathers death until that day in therapy. The day my father took his life I was in shock and my brain couldn’t process what I was seeing. But thirteen years later when I thought I had forgive my father and let him go, I really didn’t. I hadn’t truly let go because every year for Father’s Day and his birthday I would get him a card and write in it. I had thought I was just doing something in remembrance of him but in reality I wasn’t and didn’t want to let him go. In all honesty I felt that if I did let him go I was afraid I would forget him and all the memories I had with him. And then there was the anger which I thought I overcame but I hadn’t. I had to sit with myself and figure out why I was still so angry with him. Since I’ve attempted suicide myself I knew and understood the state of mind he was in. That he wasn’t himself, being selfish or had forgotten me. Pondering on this for a long time I found the answer one day when I was in therapy. I was angry with him because unlike my grandmother who didn’t choose to end her life, he did. So my thought deep down inside was that my father chose to leave me here all alone (though the other side of me knew better) with no shield to defend myself. That was where the anger came from because I felt like he abandoned me. Through therapy I learned that he nor my grandmother were never my shield, I was. Crazy as it sounds, I finally understood and for the first time since his death I didn’t buy any birthday card, I just said out loud to him happy birthday and that I miss and love you. I finally had let him go and forgiven him… actually, I forgave me.

As I sit here today writing this I can tell you that it’s great therapy for me to get my story out there. Because in my writing I’m finding answers and clarity to a lot of things that are bringing me peace. To let others know that we live in a crazy world as it is and are worst enemy is not in the world but within ourselves. That there is hope and other things to worry about besides petty things and everyone deserves to be happy. Understanding depression can be so perplex but please don’t be so hard on the people that choose to exit the world with suicide. They are not themselves, there is no clarity to them during that time, don’t feel like they didn’t think about you or love you. It just there way of ending the pain and their fight with themselves.

As of this blog I’m still seeing my therapist and a month ago I started some mild anti-depressants (to also help balance out my hormones) which seem to be helping. Although I had to sift through two different ones till I found the right anti-depressant that works for me. I ‘m happy to say that the meds are balancing me out, I’m still working on me and taking it one day at a time. I look forward to finishing my life story blogs by the end of this year and as of right now I seem to be on track.

Now to end an eye opening blog on a better note. If you ever feel like you don’t belong, you can’t go on, no one will care… PLEASE REACH OUT TO SOMEONE… BECAUSE REMEMBER… YOU ARE SPECIAL AND YOU DESERVE TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY!!!

“If you’re struggling today, remember that life is worth living and believe that the best is yet to come. Remember that you are loved, you matter, and never forget that there is always hope.” ~ Germany Kent

Hugz & Kisses,


2 thoughts on “Understanding My Depression And PTSD

  1. Mark Kohorn

    Big Hugs 🤗
    You’re doing exactly what you should be!
    Proud of you & hope you’re able to realize you are & therefore you should!
    I go through the same things, breathing & moving forward with happiness in focus cause it’s not about me it’s about enjoying & helping others so the moment is memorable.
    You’re always welcome to reach out


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