You are more than you imagine

      I've struggled for many years with depression, low self-esteem, eating disorders, and self-harm.  I think of the years I felt so alone and hated by everyone, and the memory of them still brings tears to my eyes.  It seemed to me, as I was growing up, that if everyone else says it, it must be true, right?  If my parents call me these things, then I must really be that way.  I was abused from a young age, my father's rage knew no ages.  But worse was the abuse I took from my "best friend" and her brother. I grew up a very lonely, sad, hurting child. I will be perfectly honest-I attempted suicide more than once.  I remember the first time I ever thought about committing suicide-I was 11 and I had performed terribly in a basketball game.  My father berated me for an hour after the game, and all I could think of was the only way out of all this anger was death.  He wouldn't miss me, no one else would either.  Well, that day wasn't an attempt-I was too scared.  The actual attempts came later, when I knew there was no one there for me.  I was a teenager with an absent mother, a father who was trying to break free from the absent psychotic mother and find his own sanity, a brother and sister whom, through no fault of their own, I barely knew and a sister who was as trapped as I was.  She didn't know what her role was in this bizarre dynamic and my mother kept messing with her head until she didn't know which end was up either.
     These were my worst years.  I was abused-physically, mentally, emotionally, I was neglected, honestly barely having food I was allowed to eat (most everything in the house was my mother's.)  I drank every weekend, smoked, did every drug I could get my hands on, did anything I could do to try and escape the hell I was in.  After an attempt that landed me in the child psych unit at CHOP, I was determined to never try it again, or if I did, I needed to make sure I was successful.  It was one of the scariest experiences of my life.
         Every unsustainable situation eventually comes to a head.  My junior and senior year of high school I became "consumed" by an eating disorder.  By the spring of senior year, I had lost so much weight, the school took notice.  It was only when I was failing all of my subjects and they called my mother in for a conference did she say she knew I had a problem, and if she got me treatment, could the school help me pass my classes so I graduate?  The school accepted these terms, and I was hospitalized for two weeks in May.  How I left the hospital was terrible-insurance backed out, my mother accused my doctor of conspiring against her, and the whole way home was spent in silence.
       Back at home, I realized nothing had changed, so why should I?  I relapsed and began starving myself again.  My father and a good friend reached out and called me on it.  They held me accountable for my actions and forced me to answer why I was doing it again.  If they had not intervened, I probably would not have survived the next year.
        Life went on, I found a calling in the emergency services, became and EMT and a volunteer firefighter and it gave me a reason to be alive.  In helping others, I was helping myself.  I didn't even know it.  I met a boy, we moved in together, got married, and in a minute I was pregnant.  I was beyond terrified.  I had never wanted kids.  I didn't want there to ever be the chance I'd screw them up they way my mother did me.  Little did I know, this little child would be my savior.
       My daughter became my rock over the next few years.  I see-sawed up and down, through post-partum depression, relapsing into my eating disorder, in and out of depression, but she always brought me back to center.  Then her brother came along, and the effect was compounded.  The love I felt for these two amazing little people, it broke through all that darkness and showed me that there was a reason why I was here-to love them and to show them that they are worthy of love just by being alive, not because of what they can do for me.  So I want to write a letter to my children today.  It's National Suicide Awareness day, and I want to thank them for preventing mine.

To my Daughter and Son,
      I know I am far from the perfect mom.  I should vacuum more.  And probably not cuss quite so much.  I'm quirky and weird, OCD and annoying.  As much as I know I get on your nerves, I hope you see someday that there was a reason for it all.  I wanted to be present in your lives as much as I possibly could.  I wanted you to know that I care about what you do, and if you're doing something wrong, I care enough to call you out on it.  I check your phone, facebook, instagram, kik, etc. because I want to make sure people are treating you right, not manipulating you or bullying you.  I am weird and silly and geeky and spout off random science or history facts to you in the car because I want you to be more than just one of the masses.  I want to challenge you to think and question and follow the white rabbit down the rabbit hole when you find something that interests you.  I'm intense and loyal and brutally honest with you because I want you to see the value of putting your heart into everything you care about, because otherwise you're just wasting this short time you have on earth.  When you put your heart into something so completely, your loyalty presents itself in your actions and your honesty shines through, whether you wish it to or not because you can't bare your heart without being honest.  I am weird and goofy to you and your friends because you are way too young to take your life so seriously.  Those who can't laugh at themselves most likely don't know how to think for themselves.  You are too good to be part of that boring flock of sheep. Weird is lovely, fun, exciting, and freedom.  You don't have to worry about constraining yourself to what someone else thinks you should be like.  You like what you like, and that's that.  There is no law stating you must dress like a girl or a boy and you can't play both a "girly" sport AND a "boy sport".  There is no law stating that you can't play with Barbies and then turn around and play with your Matchbox cars.  While everyone is talking about the Jersey Shore episode last night, it's more than OK to be more psyched about the premier of Doctor Who, Sherlock, or Downton Abbey, or the NASCAR race this weekend.
         I hope that I have taught you to just be who you are, and be happy about that weird, quirky, awesome person, because you have a heart so big, you can't help but spread it around and help those around you.  Whether it's some teenage drama, or a major family issue, or your friend fell and scraped a knee, you're there.  Both of you.  I have seen so much love come from you, I just hope you can realize how amazing that makes you.  When I went to Oklahoma with Team Rubicon, I missed you so terribly, but part of my reason for so desperately wanting to go was to show you that it was a good thing to help those who could never help you back.  To reach your hand out simply to pick someone up, not for them to pay you.
         I say all this to you because I want you to know that there is never, NEVER anything you can't handle.  Even if you think there's no way out, there's me.  I will always have my hand out to you.  If there is ever a time where your world goes dark, I want you to remember this and let me in, I'll bring a flashlight, and we'll find a way out together.  If you see a friend losing their hold on the light, I want you be there for them, or come to me.  I care about your friends almost as much as I care about you because they are your life when your away from home.  I know what it's like to lose someone you care so deeply for, and not have an answer as to why.
        There will be times where it seems like the light has gone out, I've been there.  You just have to reach out for that hand to guide you through the darkness.  After all, the sun must set to rise again.  I will always be there, to carry you on.  You saved my life, gave me meaning without ever even knowing you did.  I will spend my lifetime doing the same for you.

Forever weird and forever loving you,
Mom