coo coo for cocoa puffs

I have tried writing the coo coo for cocoa puffs story a few times and I couldn't seem to find the right words. I am not sure of it is too painful or just too embarrassing. I went crazy. Like, actually crazy. 

It all comes down to pain for me. Chronic pain is just something that is very hard to 'live' with. Sometimes the pain gets so bad that it completely consumes me.  I have mentioned before about my suicidal depression, but this was probably the worst it had ever been. It was June of 2009 and I was waiting for my heart surgery that September. The fear of that surgery, of it's hoped success and expected failure was just too much for my fragile mind. I wasn't sleeping at all. I think I went about four days without even 10 minutes of sleep. My mind was constantly racing. 

Why was I afraid of the surgery killing me after years of wanting to die? This made no sense to me. I should have been looking forward to it. It was my -get out of life free- card. In those few days without sleep I started to lose all connection to my sanity. 

My parents were in Africa visiting my sister, so I made my plan. I would go to their house, where no one would be for days, and I would do "it"... 

I planned it out. I obsessed over it. It was finally time. I couldn't live in this much pain every single day of my life anymore. It had to end. 

Clearly, it didn't work. I had an experience that night that I don't think I'll ever be able to fully explain, but it was the last time I ever attempted to end my life. 

Then cue my psychotic break. I woke up on the floor with no clothes on, covered in pen markings, and my mind must have just checked out. My friend showed up at my parents house and found me like this. The only way I know to describe myself was straight up coo coo. 

I thought that the Marilyn Monroe poster on my wall was talking to me so I hid her under the bed. I thought my parents dog was actually Jesus and every time she barked it was because there was a demon outside trying to get in. I thought another friend of mine was actually Satan so we couldn't talk to her on the phone because she might possess one of us. I had a full conversation with an uncle that had been dead for years. I was scared of everything. I clung to random objects like they were my life source. I had two notebooks that I wrote a lot of crazy things in. I acted like a child. I couldn't do anything for myself. My friend had to care for me over the next few days like I was a toddler. 

I got two tattoos during this time period, because that is obviously a great idea when one is experiencing a nervous breakdown. I will have to write more about those later. 

She loaded me up and took me back to her house and dealt with my ridiculous behavior until my parents returned from Africa. I will always be grateful for what she had to put up with during those few days. 

When my parents got home I moved in with them and started going to therapy weekly. Slowly my mind started healing. She taught me a lot of coping techniques and helped me to get my life in order. I enrolled in school through the VA's vocational rehabilitation program and gave myself some goals. Timed goals are important for me. I need structure and schedules to maintain my sanity. 

The first goal that I set for myself was to finish one college semester. I would decide if I could handle taking another class if I was able to finish that one. I needed to create a future that I could look forward to. I needed to want to live instead of just trying to get through it. 

I finished that college class. Then I finished another one. I graduated with a 4.0 on May 2nd of 2012. I would need another goal though, another reason to get out of bed in the morning. 

May 3rd I found out I was pregnant.