The Beginning of Now

 God didn't rescue me, but he sat with me, holding me in a comforting hug. I was so smothered by the heavy darkness in my mind that I sank deeply into that hug and melted like butter.

"This is so surreal", I whispered. "I didn't see it coming...a freight train barreling out of nowhere like a stray bullet randomly searching for a target. I feel so much mixed up emotion, and weirdly, at the same time I feel numb. I know that doesn't make sense, but it is what it is. And I don't know what to do with it."

"The anger is bullying my brain and heart. I've never let myself be angry. Since I was a tiny little girl, I worked tirelessly to keep the peace. There was too much risk involved in letting myself feel such a threatening emotion. Now it's boiling inside of me, ready to erupt all over me and everyone around me. Why didn't he talk to me? Why did he wait until I was on a road trip? And that phone call from him after his surgery, to tell me I should know he was the one that called 911 and got help. How does that make him the hero? How could he be so selfish? How could I be so stupid? I feel so cheated and so, so, vulnerable."

"And the fear is oppressive and expanding in every direction...fear of what happened, and the brutal reality of a potentially different outcome, and fear of the unknown...what if he tries again? When? Where? How? Why? Will I be able to stop him? Does he even want me anymore? Am I ever going to be enough for him? How is this going to affect our children? Is he going to lose his job? How am I going to support our family with no college education and zero experience in the workforce for nearly 30 years? How will we handle all of the medical expenses? How am I supposed to trust him now? What if people find out? Should I talk about it openly or keep it bottled up inside to avoid embarrassing our family? And..."

God held me a little closer."Shhh", he said very calmly. "Try to take a deep breath dear". Breathing had become a conscientious effort swaying from the extreme of forcing myself to breathe to trying to avoid hyperventilation. But there was an undeniable peace in having God with me, that I couldn't find anywhere else.

"There's also depression and anxiety", I whispered. "Such a gravitational pull to hide...physically bury my head under the covers of my cold lonely bed, and emotionally bury my heart in the depths of the ocean,"

"I know", he replied with emotion in his voice. "I know dear. Just hang on to me. And if you lose your grip, I'll hang on to you until you can grab ahold of me again. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here beside you through this entire journey. As for the future, just look at what's right in front of you and I will guide your steps."

"That's so hard for me!" I spoke harshly as I hurried to jump to my feet. "My anxiety will destroy me if I let things go. I run the household, pay the bills, do the grocery shopping and the laundry, prepare the meals, help the kids with their homework, take out the garbage, make all necessary daily accommodations for my husband, clean up after everyone, run all the errands, take care of my church responsibilities, not to mention squeezing in time for scripture study and prayer, and now I have to go to school full time, and work full time so I can support our family...and it's all...so...exhausting..." I squeaked as I collapsed to the floor. "I don't get how you expect me to do it all..."

"My sweet daughter," he said with such tenderness as he lifted my chin and looked into my eyes, "It is not requisite that you run faster than you have strength. The world isn't going to collapse if you focus on yourself. What's important will be taken care of, and the things that can wait will either take care of themselves or disappear. Your husband is still responsible for the financial welfare of your family. Stand with me, and together we will go give him that reminder. It's not going to be easy; he's going to fight it, and give you  every reason to believe he's not capable. But leave him with me...and I will help him figure it out. Do you trust me?"

What Now? Part 2

Devastated. Angry. Scared. Sympathetic, Betrayed. Distraught. Anxious. My emotions were swirling around like a tornado in my head and heart. And physically I was empty of any desire to function or keep myself in check. I had no appetite and forcing myself to eat was completely out of the question. Sleep completely abandoned me as the physical symptoms manifesting my emotional pain continued to barrage my body in the form of intermittent trembling, severe headaches, and extreme fatigue. My ability to think and concentrate was inhibited by images.

It was while I was traveling with my brother that I received a frantic phone call from my son Mark. "Mom", he said in a loud frantic voice, "Dad tried to kill himself. The police and ambulance are here. I need to go, and you need to come home!" And then only suffocating silence remained as I tried to process what I'd just heard. My body began to shake uncontrollably. My head was screaming insanity and confusion. And my 14 year old daughter was sitting in the backseat.

"Who was that?", my brother asked, and a barely audible squeak was all I could get out. "Breathe", I kept repeating to myself over and over again. "In through your nose and out through your mouth". It was completely the opposite of the hyperventilating that was threatening to render me unconscious. "Who was that? What's going on?" my brother questioned in a tone that only added to my panic. "Just a minute" I screamed in my head...but nothing came out of my mouth. "You're really starting to scare me!", he urged one last time. With tears of hysteria streaming down my grief stricken face, I put my hands out and made a motion of cutting a wrist, in my best attempt to deliver a message I was still desperately trying to deny. Immediately, he turned to my daughter Rachel sitting in the back seat and said "You're dad's going to be okay."

To the best of my recollection, we still had a couple of hours before we were to arrive at my step mom's house, where my daughter Heather was waiting with great anticipation for our arrival. When we arrived, Rachel and I waited in the car while my brother went in to tell them about what had happened. A few minutes later, he came out and escorted us into the house, where we were met with hugs and floods of emotion. While I was grateful for the support, I felt overwhelmed and anxious. I needed to connect with Mark to see how he was holding up.

I pulled away and excused myself to a quiet room where I could try to focus on holding myself together. I dialed Mark's number, not really knowing what information I would be faced with when he answered. I wanted to know, but I didn't want to know. The reality of a suicide attempt of such close emotional proximity, left me feeling shattered into a million pieces...and I had no idea how I would begin to face the mess. I just wanted to bury myself in a deep black hole where I would be protected from the fall out of such incapacitating trauma.

"Hi mom." Mark sounded weary. "I'm at the hospital with Dad; he's being prepped for surgery. There's someone here asking a lot of questions I can't answer. I'm going to have them talk to you". I was so numb I didn't really hear who I was speaking with. "Your husband has damaged his jugular vein. He's being prepped for surgery..." Umm jugular vein. That's in your neck, I thought to myself as I laid back on the bed I was sitting on to try and discourage loss of consciousness. I lost the ability to concentrate on the rest of the conversation.

For several hours, I lay there crying and shaking. My emotions flipped erratically from fear and anger, to deep overwhelming sadness and grief. My head was pounding and I was left completely void of any strength to lift any part of my traumatized body from the bed.

What Now? Part 1

 The news of my husband's suicide attempt I received that day, was both crushing and shocking. I immediately began to shake uncontrollably. While desperate pleas for relief were howling in my head, only hollow breathy attempts to express them escaped my quivering lips. Horror gripped me, and swept my breathing into a rapid pace matched only by my racing heart. I quickly realized it was a blessing that it was my brother, and not me, driving to our desired destination.

"How could this happen?", I asked so quietly only God could hear. "Life as I knew it just blew up in my face, and I'm...devastated. I wasn't there to see or hear, but the disturbing images relentlessly assault my brain, while it works to try and fill in the blanks of the details I don't know." For 7 hours my husband laid in nearly half of the blood that had escaped from his body before he realized he'd failed and he was too weak to succeed at his attempt.

"It's not your fault child," God responded. "It has nothing to do with you. Nothing you could have said or done would have prevented it. This is his journey, and this is not the end".

My mind went into overdrive trying to figure out "what now". He was the sole provider for our family, and we still had 2 children living at home. For 27 years, he'd suffered a lot of pain and distress emotionally, which heightened his anxiety and deepened his desperation and depression. He complained of pain in his feet, his hands, his back, and his neck. He required accommodations to his diet, his morning routine, throughout areas of our home, and in his office space at work. With time, his interactions with family, work peers, and members of our church congregation, became less and less as he sunk deeper into despair. Just 2 months earlier he'd woke up one morning and said "I can't go to work anymore."

"So I'm running the house...paying the bills, taking care of kids, dealing with homework, making sure all school meetings, conferences, events and concerts are attended (because what child doesn't want their parents there to see them shine?), paying the taxes, doing the grocery shopping, washing and folding mountains of laundry...you get the idea...and now I need to go to school full-time (because I chose marriage and children over an education), and work full-time as well?"

"How is that humanly possible God?!?!?!?"

And he softly and matter-of-factly responded "It isn't dear". That was all he said, But he sat with me for a very, very long time, and held me close, and wiped my tears. And I felt the truth of his message to me.

I didn't have an answer for "what now?", but I knew it didn't include a herculean effort to keep my family afloat.