Not all wounds are visible

As I lay fighting for my life on that hospital bed, I prayed for someone to see through my mask and to see my wounds. The wounds not visible to the naked eye - the wounds that kept me up at night, the ones that I tried so hard to hide and bury, the ones that guilt and shame feed on to make me feel numb, alone and very hopeless. On February 5th, 2020 I ran out of bandages and could no longer stop the hemorrhaging. I decided to take my own life. I could give you a million reasons why and you could easily punch holes into all of them. I was the person that everyone wanted to be and I was the person that everyone else wanted me to be. I was the helper, the workhorse, the Mr. Fix-it and the ultimately the giver. I had a mask for each of these roles and they all had the same smiling expression that gave the impression that everything was all good.

What do you say to Mr. Jack-of-all-trades, when he suddenly says that he needs your help? What do you say when your friend/coworker/spouse says that he has been having suicidal thoughts? What do you say when he admits to fearing being left alone? I quite literally caught everyone off guard and found myself very alone in a world that didn't know how to help me. You could say, Humpty Dumpty had fell off the wall and all the kings men where left saying "oh shit". As I had never asked for help before, many of the people I trusted to have my back, were suddenly left speechless. I had not built up the credibility to ask for help. It was is they were waiting for me to say that I was just kidding and that I had gotten them good. The problem was that I wasn't... my invisible wounds cut so deep I didn't see away out.

On February 5th, 2020 I removed my final mask and asked the doctors to see my invisible wounds. Yes... that is a great opener to get locked up in the nut house. It is right up there with "Don't worry doc, I never respond to the other voices in my head". As I sat up on that hospital bed, I prayed one last time for my wounds to be seen, then putting pen to paper I signed that Form 1 and trusted in the Alberta Mental Health Act to take care of me. In one signature, I surrendered all of my rights, to seek the help I much needed.

This blog is dedicated to all of those whom have helped me and continue to help me on my healing journey. I want to to share my journey, in hope to inspire others to keep asking for help and to not give up. I "Shed my Mask" and so can you.

My plan is to blog weekly. Given that I am still on my journey through PTSD, depression and anxiety I will do my best and ask for help when I need it. I am not giving up so help keep me on track.

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