An Anniversary

​1 year ago today, I hit a really low low.  I was ideating, and disappointed to not have the supplies on hand that I was ideating about to actually execute the plan.  With my husband’s help, we called my therapist and the crisis line, then made our way to the ER.

1 year ago, tonight, I voluntarily admitted myself into a Behavioral Health unit for 3 days.  1 year ago, tonight, I lay in a strange bed, in the lower level of a local hospital, crying and wishing for a way to end it, because I hated myself for being in the hospital.

1 year ago tonight, I ran, face first, into the walls of my own stigmas around my mental health, sigmas I didn’t even realize were there.  Standards I had for myself that were higher than others.  Somehow I was better, more stable, for making it though deep depressions and periods of ideations/less than serious attempts without hospitalization.

1 year ago tonight, I hated myself.  I hated that I was in the hospital, and I just didn’t want to do it anymore, but I didn’t even really know what “it” was.  I just knew I felt done and I didn’t want to keep going down the same path.

Today, I celebrate the progress I’ve made in the past 12 months.

Today, I sat in Starbucks, wearing a semicolon t-shirt, having taken the day off of work to see my psychiatrist, my therapist, and to take care of myself, writing.

Today, I’m joined the semicolon project by getting my semicolon tattoo.  But not just a semicolon.  The semicolon in and of itself is very meaningful, indicating one’s choice to continue, one’s choice to not end their life.

In Catholicism, especially with the Jesuit order, the acronym AMDG is often seen and used.  It stands for the Latin phrase Ad majórem Dei glóriam, which roughly translates to “For the greater glory of God.”

My tattoo combines both of these.  It is on my inner forearm, on my right arm.  To me, every time I look at it, it will remind me that I choose to continue, not just for myself, but for the greater glory of God.

AMDG, in the shape of a cross, centered on the semicolon.

Today is an anniversary worth marking.

Today is another day.

One thought on “An Anniversary

  1. Hi Lynda,
    Your writing is beautiful, bubbling over with authenticity and strength. This reminds me that we are all connected and have much in common as we go through shit and dark times. Thank you for courageously sharing yourself, helping those around you through your journey. I feel that one of the biggest gifts we can give ourselves is to honor our feelings. You have clearly hit this mark by way of your honest articulation and vulnerable exploration of your emotions…what inspiration and emotional intelligence!! Sending lots of love your way!!
    ❤️❤️ Erica Ram


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