SemiColon EDU

I had heard about the Semicolon Project about a year ago. It moved me then and still does. 

This year, educators have joined in the discussion and awareness. Many educators joined the conversation on social media through #SemicolonEDU. Many shared their own stories. Many even got tattoos. 

I have always been passionate about awareness of depression and suicide prevention. 

Because, I too, have been there.

I have had some ups and downs in my life: my birth mom died when I was eight months with no father to account for and I lost my mom (my adoptive grandma) at twenty-three. Both completely devastating and earth shattering. But neither prepared me for the devastation that would envelop me.

My husband, my partner of almost eight years had an affair. 

His mistress was pregnant.

We were, at the time, trying to have a baby. Or so I thought...

Being a cutter in the past had seemingly helped me through previous bouts of depression, but it wasn't enough this time. Here I thought loosing my mom so early in my life was tough, but this was worse. Much worse. His affair made me question everything. Who I was. The way I saw the world, myself, and others. I thought we were happy. I thought all was right in the world. 

And yet I felt this was my fault. I had done something. Said something. Not done something. 

And because it was my fault, perhaps I was broken. Something within me that couldn't be fixed or loved. I felt worthless. Loveless. Useless. I didn't have a family; he took that away with his infidelity. I was alone. My world was inside out and upside-down. So why stick around?

I begged. I cried. I wrote. I prayed to be taken from this world. To make the hurt and pain stop. No one would miss me. I didn't have anyone that would notice I was gone. I was in a hole and I only saw one way out.

But my story was not over.

What got me out of that hole wasn't some big moment or realization. It was a few little things. The one thing I remember was my friend, Lori, who had left a twelve pack of Cherry Pepsi on my doorstep. She was the only one in my world who knew a minuscule inkling of what was going on. The only one who knew when to call or when to leave Cherry Pepsi. 

This little gesture of kindness gave me hope. 

Climbing out of the hole wasn't instant or immediate. It took months before I gained the courage to call a therapist. A year later to build the confidence and love within myself to actually leave the relationship. Even longer to tell my friends and my dad. But I am here. And I am happy. And healthy. 

Like others, I have moments of doubt and darkness creep in, but they are moments. Fewer and farther in-between. Now I have an amazing family full of incredible friends, a loving husband, and this tiny bundle of joy I can't get enough of! Each day is a gift. It may not always be perfect, and sure, there is sadness, but there is always blessings if I look for it. Blessings that remind me of who I am and where I have been. Lessons that made me who I am today. Stronger, smarter, and my story continues.

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