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knownotknow
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PathStep 1 Compassion hearts10 Forum posts6 Forum upvotes5 Current upvotes5 Age GroupAdult Last activeJanuary, 2022 Member sinceDecember 19, 2021
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Post suicidal crisis and homeless and alone
Depression Support / by knownotknow
Last post
 December 20th, 2021
...See more This last month and a half has been the worst of my life. In July, me, my wife, her two special needs teenage boys, our 1 1/2 yr old girl, two dogs and our cat all moved across two states to live with my Dad and step-mom. It was supposed to be temporary, until we found a place of our own. But shortly after we moved in, Dad was diagnosed with bone cancer, so shortly after battling bladder cancer. His prognosis wasn't great, but he fought it anyway. We decided to not push so hard on leaving so that we could stay and help. My step mom couldn't handle autism. She didn't understand and didn't care to. Dad wouldn't let her kick us out, but given the opportunity, I knew she would. This realization was the beginning of my breakdown. First, I worried about my family's safety. Worry like that becomes obsession for me (OCD). Then, my Dad and step mom go visit her sister and both catch COVID. My step-mom got sick, but was ok, my Dad was life-flighted to a hospital. After a couple weeks, they sent him home because that's where her wanted to be to die. People canned from all over to say goodbye and the whole time, we could hear my step-mom talking badly about my wife and her two autistic boys. Three day my dad died, we got a sweet deal on a motorhome. It's was old, but nothing about it made me feel it was unlivable. We took all our money and crammed everything we could into our cars and one little trailer and drive to the other side of the state. When we got to the RV, it smelled of mold, there exterior was chipping off and it leaked throughout the entire thing. There was no chance anyone could live in it. The photos were saw of it were clearly old photos. I was devastated. And this was there catalyst for obsessive worry and panic (I also have generalized anxiety Disorder). Over the next month, we slept in a tent (far too small for 8 bodies), our little trailer, and we finally got an RV that was livable, butt small. Far too small. My meds ran out. I was too busy every day trying to find suitable shelter, trying to bring in more money, and trying to figure out how to navigate homelessness with a family. None of it was manageable. All of it was out of my control. Every lead, every ideas smacked squarely into a brick wall. My brain became turmoltuous (sp?). I was in a constant starter of panic and fear. I knew I wasn't thinking clearly, but I didn't know what else to do. Everything felt like thick glue, making it impossible to move from one thing to another. One night, I fell out of the RV for and scaped my ribs really hard against something. It hurt pretty bad and I reacted out of anger by slamming the screen door then slamming the outer door. Then I ran and hide in my car. I texted my wife (this would have been a trigger for her - also, this was the only time she's ever seen me act this way) after a couple hours and apologized. I was so embarrassed and felt hopeless. She didn't respond, so I stayed hidden in my car for two days before I reached out for help. I was suicidal (suicidality is a major manifestation of my major depressive disorder) and didn't want to be here anymore. A nice person from a local Facebook group texted with me and called the sheriff for me. I spent a night in the ER and a week and a half in a crisis center. I've been out for a couple days now. I'm in a strange town, no wife, no kids. She couldn't handle my mental illnesses. I have my dog, my car and the RV, which is now broken, smells like urine and unlivable. I keep thinking I can't take much more, but here I am, living in the Walmart parking lot with nothing. My car is big, and I have a thin mattress, so it's not completely uncomfortable, but I wake up in pain constantly. I sleep all the time. I started working on getting services. I have appointments set for me by the crisis center for therapy and psychiatry. But what I really miss this time (this was my third stay at a crisis center), is that I have no one here. I don't have anyone to sit with and talk to. No one to hug. I've never felt this alone. I've never been this alone.
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