Building a Mental Health Toolkit to Save My Life
Decades of living with mental illness helped me choose the right tools
The day I nearly ended my life, I lay on the family room floor with our dogs, Astro and Maxine, the rough yarn of the Berber carpet against my cheek. I wanted to go to sleep forever.
Images of a plan formed in my mind. Was I dreaming or scheming? We would climb into my Volvo station wagon, safely entombed in the garage. I would put the back seats down so we could all stretch out, get comfortable for what I hoped would be an easy transition. I imaged opening the hatch, calling “Kennel up!” and watching the furry white dog jump in followed by her sleek black “sister.” I would close the hatch then get in the car and turn on the engine. Once it was running, I would get out and crawl in the back with them. I imagined lying down and feeling the station wagon carpet itching my face. Maxine would sniff then lie down. Astro might pounce, playful still, even though she was not a puppy. And I would pat the carpet, say “Down” and soon, I hoped, we would all go to sleep-together-forever.
But the phone rang. So instead of killing myself, I rose from the family room floor, all of us still very much alive, and took the call.
