What's in Your Wallet?

Though the title of tonight's post probably caused many of you to immediately think of the famous advertising slogan of Capital One credit cards, my subject matter this evening concerns something far more serious than the highly successful marketing campaign that launched 16 years ago. While I will be writing about something I've carried in my wallet for the last few years, I can assure you that you won't be reading about anything even remotely related to credit cards or banks or a person's personal financial situation. Tonight, I'm writing about what's in my wallet with the hope that it will help someone who thinks that the only way out of the darkness they're in is to commit suicide. And by the way, I've only told one person about this particular item tucked inside my brown leather wallet ... and I just told her today. 

Last night I received a text from one of my dearest friends telling me that her adult daughter's best friend had tried to commit suicide a couple of days ago and that she had been admitted to a psychiatric facility. I count my friend's daughter among one of my dearest friends right alongside her mom, and as I messaged with her today, the heartache she's experiencing today bled through her written words and dripped upon my very soul. Her friend had attempted to kill herself by taking an overdose of antidepressants and painkillers. From what I understand, she came very near to succeeding ... thankfully, someone found her in time and she's now receiving the care she so desperately needs. 

People often ask me what I was thinking in those last minutes when I was sitting at my kitchen table with the pills in my hand ready to end my life, and that question is one that I believe may haunt me for as long as I live. The reason that question haunts me is that the answer people want to hear is far different from the truth. People want me to say I was thinking about the people who love me ... they want me to say that I was thinking about the pain my death would cause them. But that's not the truth ... the truth is that the only thing I was thinking in those last few minutes was that my own pain would soon be over. I suppose the closest I came to thinking about how my death would affect the people who loved me was when I thought of how much better off they would be without me.

I've said it countless times in my posts, but I feel like I should say it again tonight ... depression is a nasty beast that can rear its ugly head when you least expect it. I've likened it to a wolf that is forever just outside my window, and I've talked about how it often feels like I'm wrestling an octopus. I've tried to be open, honest, real and transparent about my own personal challenges of managing such a nebulous disease because I know how slippery the slope of depression can be, and I know how important it is for someone to be willing to grab my hand and keep me from falling. But for all the things I've shared, I've never talked about my list ... until now.

Though I can't recall exactly how long it's been since I made the list, I do remember where I was sitting when I penned it ... I was sitting at my kitchen table. I wish I could tell you that I never have a day anymore when the thought of the people I love being better off without me, but I do. While those days don't happen nearly as often as they used to, I am very much aware of how dangerous they can be when they do decide to show up. It was during a time when I'd had a bunch of those days in succession that I wrote my list ... my list bearing the names of the people whose lives I would damage forever if I chose to give in to the beast. When I feel the darkness trying to wrap its tentacles around my heart and mind, I pull out my list and read the names aloud, and as much as I hate to admit it, there are some days when I need to read it over and over and over again. My list of the people who love me ... not some idea of me, mind you, but people who love the real me. I read the list until the darkness starts to fade away ... I read the list until I know the thoughts have disappeared ... I read the list until all I can think about is them instead of me.

Maybe, just maybe, you need a list like mine in your wallet, my friend ... maybe you need to be reminded of the people who would be lost without you. Maybe we all do ... maybe we all do indeed.

What's in your wallet, friend?