Everyone has nightmares. They are a regular part of life. Whether we have them because there is something in our subconscious mind that is bothering us or they are a result of bad pizza we had the night before, ocassionally, we will have one. When we live one, it is an entirely different story. Such was the case in the story I am about to share with you. It was March 13, 1997 at approximately two o'clock in the afternoon. I was at Diane's Hair Clinic in the Plaza on the corner of Northern and Bell Avenue in Las Cruces, alone, just five minutes from my home.
My boss and co-worker had stayed home sick. I had just shampooed a client and was cutting her hair when my oldest son, Ben called.
"Mom, your brother called and he wants you to call him. He sounded like he was crying, Mom." he stammered, obviously verbally shaken.
Fear gripped my heart and my head began to spin. Overwhelming nausea began pulsating through my body like the feeling you get when you are on a ride at an amusement park being jerked to and fro. As thoughts raced wildly through my mind, confusion settled over me instantly. I had that gut wretching feeling in the pit of my stomach that something was desperately wrong.
What in the world should I do?,,, What do I tell my client? I am the only one here...
I knew I needed to call my brother but I didn't want to hear the news he had. It couldn't possibly be good. He never called me, let alone at work.
Do I finish my client and then call or send her home now, I wondered?
When I returned to the room where my client was, I told her I had to make an important phone call.
"No problem." she said
When I left the room my heart was palpitating so hard and fast, I thought it would leave my chest. My hands were cold and clamby and shaking profusely, I picked up the phone receiver at the front desk. When my brother answered, he was crying.
"Carole, why did you wait so long to call me?" he asked through tears and a pain so tangible you could cut it with a knife. Then he uttered these words from his lips:
"It's mom. She's dead. She hung herself."
Though my mom had threatened suicide many times over my growing up years, I had hoped against hope, she would never choose to follow through. She had been in the hospital on several occasions having suffered nervous break downs and in fact, was in the hospital the week prior to my brother calling.
I still remember having her put in the hospital in Florida when she came to visit me and my three children and threatened to take her life then. Gary, my husband, was doing a six-month deployment on the Naval aircraft carrier, the U.S.S. Independence, and mom came out to visit for what I thought, would be a fun-filled extravaganza. We had planned to drive to Orlando and take the kids to Disneyworld, and enjoy one another. Never did I expect, she would threaten suicide during her stay.
You see, she was very much Bipolar, but she did have good moments. She had lost my dad in 1992, and I prayed relentlessly for her healing. I felt if she could just make it past the five-year mark, she would be out of the woods. Statistically, five years seems to be such a crucial time frame after losing someone. Generally, if they can just make it over that five year hump, they are often home free.
My neighbors, who were Christians, came to my aid and we drove Mom to the Baptist Hospital in downtown Jacksonville. She was evaluated for a week and put on medications to level out her brain chemistry.
"At last she has finally gotten the help she needs. It's all up hill from here." I reasoned...sighing a sign of relief
I don't live in regret, but I wish I could say things had gotten better. I wish I could say we didn't have to leave and drive back to the Midwest that next day to go through my mother's personal belongings and get her house ready to put on the market.
God, in His great mercy gave us the strength to carry on and walk through the murky waters of grief. It was a three year battle. I would be lying to say to you, I didn't want to die, too. My world had been rocked beyond my wildest imagination.
I remember lying in bed with an emotional pain and heaviness on me like a ton of bricks, my heart sinking to the lowest of lows. I didn't think I would make it...
I had asked God to let me die. I couldn't read my Bible because I couldn't concentrate. Just getting out of bed for the day was a major victory, let alone going any where. I cried off and on continually. As I lay there on my bed of grief, all I could say was: "God, Please Help Me! You've got to help me!"
You see, this was one trial that I didn't think God could turn around for His Glory. The Valley was too deep; the pain too great. I couldn't see clearly through the darkness. I felt like I was suspended precariously in mid-air with only a thread connecting me to the heavens. If He would have let go, my life would have quickly been snuffed out.
He was the only one that could save me, and He did. God is faithful. Without Him I would never have made it through my greatest valley of despair. It is because of HIM I stand here today with a passion for the Healing and Deliverance Ministry. I will go to my grave with this passion. I live to see God's people set free by the power of our God.
You see, I made a commitment to Him once he led me out of the darkness when I uttered these words..."God, If I can see just ONE person turned away from suicide, it will be well worth the pain and effort it takes. I will make the devil pay for taking my mom's life prematurely, by serving you God with everything that is within me. I will, empowered by God almighty, reach into the depths of hell, to see God's people set free and healed from all that besets them!"
Carole I am sorry for your loss. I thank you for sharing your story. I have not experienced your loss, but I had to help a family member who was suicidal. In regards to your passion for speaking out and helping others, I too feel the same passion. It is the reason that I write some of the work that I do. Again, I thank you.
Oh my, Carole. So truly sorry for you loss. My Dad had Colon Cancer. He fought it long and hard but in the end his body just couldn't fight anymore. My friend's Mother is Bi-Polar and it is a constant struggle of depression lows, manic highs and addictions to cigarettes and alcohol. I'm glad to hear that you know you did all you could for her. I don't really know what else to say.
Thank you for sharing such a personal and emotional piece of yourself.
Carole I am sorry for your loss. I thank you for sharing your story. I have not experienced your loss, but I had to help a family member who was suicidal. In regards to your passion for speaking out and helping others, I too feel the same passion. It is the reason that I write some of the work that I do. Again, I thank you.
Very well written, Carole. Even though you were aware of your mother's mental anguish, and did your best to get help for her, she found a way to commit that final desperate act and nobody could have prevented it unless they were with her 24/7.
There comes a point in your life when you realize:
Who matters,
Who never did,
Who won't anymore...
And who always will.
So, don't worry about people from your past,
there's a reason why they didn.. more..