I don’t think hitting rock bottom happens all at once most of the time. I think it happens gradually. At least it did for me.
The better part of my 20s was spent going downhill, in and out of abusive relationships, and slowly learning that I had mental health issues that were out of control.
When I was finally diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, my husband at the time knew every trigger. He knew every way to take advantage of the mood swings, the depression, and just how to make me feel worse. It got to the point where I was either going to commit suicide or leave.
I had to move back in with my parents, drive them crazy, go through another breakup, and get back together with an abusive ex.
It was January 2016 when my boyfriend and I had a huge fight. I had already spent the day arguing with my parents. Now, he had argued with me and left me crying on the floor–wishing and hoping that the pain would stop.
I just wanted to take away the option of anyone ever hurting me again. I was approaching 30, and it started to occur to me that life wasn’t going to get any better.
Before this, I had had hope that it would eventually, and it was one of the things that kept me alive. But, something about the realization of approaching 30 and having nearly a decade of hell hit me harder than a ton of bricks.
My boyfriend had left the apartment, and the next thing I knew I was going to the bathroom and looking for ways to hurt myself. I decided I was going to continue until I took my own life, but I realized I wanted to call for help.
So, I called my boyfriend, who had made it about 10 minutes from the apartment on foot. I told him I was going to kill myself if he couldn’t come back and help me.
He came back. He had dealt with this before himself, as he had had a habit of trying to kill himself. Now I guess it was my turn.
He took me to the Emergency Room, and I remember wanting to go somewhere. I just wanted to getaway. Being inside an institution was honestly one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It was also one I hope not to repeat.
I met people who were going through the exact same thing I was. The amount of love and compassion and support from a group like that isn’t something you can find anywhere else. It opened my eyes, helped me want to live, and gave me tools to deal with these types of things in the future.
After three days they were going to discharge me, but my boyfriend was in the midst of a suicide attempt when they called for him to come to pick me up. I ended up staying an extra two days in the hospital, feeling defeated.
He and I both survived, and it wasn’t long before our relationship ended.
A huge part of taking care of ourselves of the company we keep, along with the tools we use to deal with. I was very sick for a long time. After hitting rock bottom, I slowly began to crawl my way out of it.
Today, I am in a great relationship with a wonderful man, and not only do I have hope that my life can change, but I have also experienced it. I still have the up and downs of my illnesses, and I am working on getting better every day.
Don’t lose hope that things can get better. I am living proof that life doesn’t have to be hopeless.
Jessica is a writer, artist and visionary. She has a Bachelor’s Degree in Journalism from Southern Illinois University and runs an entertainment publication called The Southern Skyscraper. She is author of I Am Driven Crazy, an anthology of poetry that takes you through her personal experiences dealing with love, loss and mental illness. She enjoys a good cup of coffee, a good book or movie, and good conversation. Still battling her own mental illness, she spends much of her time learning how to help herself and others. Jessica has binge eating disorder, borderline personality disorder, and bipolar disorder. She has also experienced trauma, including domestic violence. She seeks to live a happy, healthy life through treatment and striving every day.