I've struggled with suicidal ideation off and on since the mid '90s.
Seems it'd get easier over time, but then again not.
And it doesn't.
Most always something comes to my aid, often an animal encounter.
I share the following because of the 'miracle' story toward the end.
******
Monday, 7/17/23
Another rough day.
Isolation.
Pain.
Brain fog.
Grief.
Feeling I live a "Groundhog Day" life.
Tears poured.
Grief & pain & the feeling of 'all alone.'
Pondering again my suicide plan.
Through my sobs, I talk with Hubby who sits with me on the other end of the phone. We hang up, but I can't stop the spiral. So, I let it spin, feeling into it and hanging on.
I make three phone calls to three different friends.
Voicemails only, no answers.
I do not leave any messages.
After a couple hours, I muster my body and mind to get outside. I don my wrists and back braces and get my trekking poles.
I walk to the end of the driveway.
I look right.
I look left.
No cars.
Houses sealed up tight.
No life in sight.
There were probably birds singing, but all I notice is the recently paved black top with its bright yellow lines.
It's an odd feeling.
Like I'm the last person on earth.
I eventually head back up our driveway, walk through the backyard, through the woods at the end of our lot, and onto the dead-end street behind our lot. There's lots of shade and few cars.
Again, no humans.
All houses closed up tight.
People at work or inside their homes away from the sultry weather.
When I get to the dead-end part of the street, I stop to let an SUV pull into a driveway. Someone gets out of the passenger's side, but I can't see whom.
A moment later, as I wait, the vehicle pulls out of the driveway onto the street and drives away. The driver and I smile at one another, and nod.
I begin to walk again but am stopped after a couple steps. A young man, probably in his late 20s, is trotting up the driveway toward me.
As he approaches me, he calls, "I have something for you!"
So, I stop.
"I saw you and thought you might need a flower," as he stretches out his arm with a pink petunia in his hand.
I start to cry and tell him the perfect timing of his gift, without the details.
He shares a bit about the petunia story. "I grew them for my grandma. I live with her here and help take care of her. She has non-Hodgkins's lymphoma; it's in her bones."
We visit for about 15 minutes at the petunia plants.
His grandma, who is 81, is blessed to have such a loving grandson. His name is Cody.
Once back home, I put the petunia in some water in a bottle cap and place it on my kitchen windowsill altar.
Cody & I had never met before, though he had sometimes seen me walking. He commended me on how well I was walking...
*~*~
In my tears & pity party, a complete stranger reached out not knowing anything about me other than "the lady who walks with trekking poles... "
(Carol, do you believe yet?)
