The Day I Called the Crisis Centre... (approx. 4 - 4½ min. read)

I know this is going to sound negative, but I need to say it anyway... Sometimes I feel like if something’s going to go wrong, it will happen to me.

I try to stay positive and when people ask if I’m a glass half-full or glass half-empty, I just tell them I’m lucky to have a glass and that there’s something in it. Honestly though, it’s hard for me to keep that mentality sometimes.

It’s hard for me to explain what I mean, so I’m going to tell you about an experience from just over 18 months ago. It was around 8 weeks after I started writing my blog and I had been going through a really tough time with certain members of my family of origin; particularly my oldest daughter.

There was a time when we used to talk every day but around that time, things changed and I hadn’t heard from her in a couple days. I was up really late one night trying to figure out what was up, when the phone rang. It was her, and all she said when I answered the phone was, “I never said that.”

I was taken aback and asked her what she was talking about. She said she was referring to something I’d said in one of my blogs, about her and her sister being afraid to come into my room at night because of how hyper-vigilante I was.

I listened to what she had to say and then hung up the phone, crying. My husband asked me what had happened and I told him. He chuckled to himself and said he didn’t know what she was on about. He had also been present when my daughters and I had talked about it and distinctly remembered what had been said.

Anyway, it doesn’t really matter now. What does matter is what happened around the time that she called and accused me of lying; my first (and only) call to the local crisis centre.

It was the afternoon of October 8th, 2015 and I was feeling absolutely hopeless. I had hoped that once I started talking about my past and why I had PTSD, people would understand and stop treating me like the black sheep of the family. Instead, I was further alienated and that put me in a really bad place mentally.

I couldn’t stop thinking about suicide and it being my only choice out of the hole I’d dug for myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d been sent down this road, and I had done a lot of research on how to die by suicide and I started reviewing all the steps in my head.

I felt so lost - defeated in fact. I was crying so hard that I could barely breathe and although I was planning my suicide, I kept thinking that I really didn’t want to die. I just thought that if I were dead I could finally end the pain ...for myself, as well as everyone else.

I contemplated suicide for most of the day ...drifting in and out of self-piteous, pathetic thoughts about myself and when I couldn’t take it anymore, I Googled the number for the nearest crisis centre and dialed it.

The phone started to ring and I began to head into a panic attack. With each ring it got worse ...one, I started to sweat ...two, my head started shaking so badly that I felt like it was going to fall off my shoulders and tumble to the floor ...three.

After an indeterminable amount of time, I heard the distinct sound of someone picking up the receiver. I was getting ready to say hello, when the person that picked up the phone fumbled it. I heard it clank twice as it went down, and then I heard the dial tone.

I looked at the phone in disbelief and thought, “This can’t be happening.” I was thinking that I’d finally found the courage to call the crisis centre and they hung up on me?! WTF?

I continue staring at the phone in disbelief for a couple of seconds, wondering whether they’ll press call return and call me back, or if I should try again.

I felt completely numb, yet I watched my hand instinctively reach out and press redial. Once again I was waiting for someone to answer, but after the first ring it went through to voicemail and I ended up staring at the receiver in disbelief... again.

To this day, I don’t know what happened... a switch clicked in my head and I started to laugh hysterically. I guess I was having trouble believing that something so utterly inconceivable could happen to me in my time of need.

Honestly, it made me guffaw until my sides ached and my cheeks hurt. When we laugh we release endorphins, the brain chemicals known for their feel-good effect and the suicidal thoughts left my head. Left in its place were thoughts of gratitude because their negligence saved my life that day.

Stay safe and stay strong. Thanks for following.