Wednesday, October 22, 2014


Katie Hurley recently wrote this article on Huffington Post

Entitled There is Nothing Selfish About Suicide. 

I first applaud you Katie for writing that article. The amount of strength you must of had to come forward and share your story.

It's a strength I don't have...

Have I shared my PTSD story? With a handful of people I trust. But I've not shared it with you. 

It's a personal experience. Something I'm not ready to share with many people. Just people that I trust. 

Because it takes strength to come forward with your story. And it's something I don't have yet.

Shortly after the event that caused my PTSD I can honestly say there came a moment where I thought: I'd be better off dead. 

It was the moment I was holding in everything that happened. Hoping some magical thing would happen and it would all disappear. 

I didn't think anyone would understand. I thought too many questions would pop up. And number 1… I was ashamed. 

That shame was enough that it ate me alive. As I've stated before I broke down. I withdrew. I became a broken shell of myself.

Something I agree with Katie is. Unless you've been there, don't judge!! 

It's hard to stare at a dark abyss wondering where your life will go. Realizing your life is in a million pieces and you have NO idea where to begin picking up those pieces, because they are cutting you. They are hurting you. And the darkness feels so good. You don't want to leave. 

I thank my husband for being patient. For realizing something was wrong. For supporting me, literally, when I couldn't. He held me so tightly when I could barely walk telling me he would always be there. Reassuring me he wouldn't leave.

Even when the anger came. He was there. He was saying he wouldn't leave. Even when he KNEW what happened. He loved me. 

It was that love that I needed. The hands of him and others reaching out for me. Not letting me give up. 

My therapist says I'm a fighter. I'm actually a survivor. Figuring out how to navigate things so what happened to me doesn't define me. 

I wake up every day and I remember the darkness. Because I have PTSD it's something I fight. I didn't cause the PTSD. It is something that just happened. It's something I'm trying to overcome. Yet something I realize I cannot control. 

You want to say someone is selfish for taking their life. It's like telling me I'm selfish for having PTSD. Like I wished this upon me. 

I don't want PTSD. I don't want the flashbacks. The sitting in fear. Being afraid. I don't want to shake, something I do. I sing when I remember things, when I have flashbacks or triggers. I think of my Lego people. I try so hard to take my mind off that moment. But once it wasn't so easy. Once I just let that moment take me. 

I was never selfish. 

I experienced a trauma and needed to heal. Nothing about that is selfish.

Same thing with suicide. It isn't selfish.