Let me preface by saying that I don't really do angst, like at all, so this is a bit out of my element.

Day 3: "I don't care what happens to me as long as you're safe" + angst

Written to the tone of and inspired by In Silence by Janet Suhh and I highly recommend listening while reading. Lyrics are in italics.

I hope I did the portrayal of this topic the just it deserves. Enjoy!

In silence, no one answers
But I still hear your voice

It was the silence. She used to love the silence. It meant that her daughter wasn't crying. It meant her daughter wasn't in pain. It meant that, in that moment, maybe she wasn't that terrible of a mother, she wasn't doing everything wrong.

Now. Now the silence just left her alone with her thoughts and her guilt. That was the most crippling part, the guilt. No matter how hard she tried, she wasn't getting better. And she was trying, she really was. Ever since she'd told him that she wasn't okay, they'd immediately took all the steps to get her help. The regular therapy. The antidepressants. Even his parents stepping in to take more responsibility so she could take a break.

And it seemed to be working, for a while. Now, she feels as if she's relapsed, back at square one. His words of encouragement, once helpful, would drown in the darkness. And she knows, she knows, had it repeated to her by her therapist, she knows that healing is not linear. But she should be further along than this by now. It's been 5 months, when is she going to get better? Maybe she'd never really gotten past her starting point and wanted to believe everything was helping.

Or maybe she was just beyond help.

A thought that used to scare her, but she's realized how true it was. It was the only logical explanation. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this, motherhood, any of it. He deserved better. Their daughter deserved better.

They deserved better than her.

And she was tired. Tired of the guilt. Tired of trying. Tired of failing. Tired of the viscous cycle she kept going through, putting her family through. She just wanted all of it to be over.

And it would be soon.

She slid down the wall to the living room floor as she started to feel the effects. They empty pill bottle dropped next to her. She was calm knowing that he was more than capable of taking care of their daughter. They'd be alright. They wouldn't have her to worry about her. They'd be free. And so would she.

As her heart rate slowed and her mind drifted further towards the darkness, she could have sworn she heard him calling her name, more like screaming it. It was okay, it would all be okay. The last thing she saw as the darkness took over was his face.

In darkness, it's getting hard
Getting hard to stand

Bright, fluorescent lights assaulted her vision as she awoke. She was a bit confused at where she was and how she got there. As she sat with her thoughts, it didn't take long for the events to come rushing back.

She was still alive.

She didn't know how she felt about that. She wasn't particularly sad or angry or happy or any particular emotion. Just numb, she guessed.

"Maddie!"

She turned her head to see him reaching out towards her and cradle her face, looming close. She didn't say anything or react, just looked at him. Haggard face, mussed hair, bloodshot eyes signaling that he probably hadn't slept in however long it had probably been. As she looked at him, the tears slid down his cheeks. Out of reflex, she reached out, but the IV in her arm and restraint wrapped around her wrist stopped her.

"You're back." His voice trembled as he whispered the words. With those two simple words, the gravity crashed down on her. She was back, but at what cost? She just held his gaze, not able to speak, not only because of the rawness in her throat, but what could she really say in this moment?

"We're going to get through this, Maddie, together." The tears just flowed.

Bare your soul to me
Here I stand for you

A week long stay in the psychiatric unit of the hospital, turned into her first month back home. The weeks filled with increased therapy sessions, follow up appointments, new strategies, and plenty of conversations. Him never leaving her side through any of it. Months two and three were much of the same as a routine had developed between them. Only this time, whenever he had to leave, he made sure she wasn't alone, a decision they'd come to together. The thoughts and fears were still there, only not as frequent, and she'd developed a habit of talking them out or journaling them on days she wasn't particularly comfortable voicing them.

She had gained some semblance of control, the world was no longer in a constant spiral.

Month four was when she started to feel some changes. The seemingly permanent dark clouds were breaking. A true to start to getting past this. The set backs happened, especially when it came to navigating motherhood and her relationship with her daughter, but she was further from the place she began and she could work with that.

Though, she was starting to notice something. Him. She'd picked up on it over the last couple of weeks, but wanted to be sure of what she was seeing before she said anything. He denied it at first. Something she'd expected. But she kept gently pushing until...

"I don't care what happens to me as long as you're safe."

There it was.

His overly exhausted body flopped down on the couch. "I," he paused, scrubbing his hands down his face and through his hair, "I missed it the first time, it's not happening again."

She sighed as she sat next to him, placing a soothing hand to his shoulder as she worked to keep the guilt in check, "look at me," his face turned toward her meeting her eyes, "there was nothing else you could have done," she expected his response and she stopped him, "I was spiraling and was convinced it was the only solution left."

"If I had-"

"There wasn't a day that went by you weren't attentive and doing what you could to help," she knew he wasn't convinced, but she also knew it was one of those things they'd work through with time, "and there hasn't been now. I couldn't ask for a better support system. But, baby, I need you to take care of yourself."

"I am."

"You're not. You're doing enough to keep yourself alive, but you're not taking care of yourself. You're spending so much time worrying over and taking care of us that you're neglecting you. That's not helping any of us," he wanted to turn away from him and she didn't let him, "we're getting through this together. We take care of each other. That's the deal," she grabbed one of his hands linking her fingers with his and kissing the back of it, "okay?"

"Okay."

Days will come for you, for us

It's another month before he allowed himself to be convinced. And he was slowly getting into himself, finding the balance in this path they were navigating. Even going back to work, complete with three phone calls to check on her and their daughter. She realized she had been doing the same, going out a bit, finding a bit more comfort in bonding with and caring for their daughter. For the first time in a long time, she was feeling truly okay.

The days tick by and it took a look at the calendar, as she passed by, to realize it had been six months. To the day.

The darkness now a shadow in the distance.

In the silence, she allows the thoughts. The thoughts of where she was six months ago, a year ago. She remembers the headspace she was in, really allows herself to think about that place. The fact that she can think about it without it being triggering to her says enough. But she won't say she's healed or anywhere close to it. The word that feels the most correct is balanced. There's a lot more balance where there didn't used to feel like any.

Especially in how she feels about her relationship with her daughter.

When she hears her daughter's cries, she's conscious of where her reflexive thoughts are headed. She feels the self doubt and depreciation bubbling up from from the recesses of her mind. Those thoughts immediately silenced by the sound of his and her own voice encouraging her, telling her it was okay, making her feel safe.

After a couple of deep breaths, she rises and heads to the nursery. As soon as she opens the door, she sees her one year old leaning against the bars of the crib. As soon as she's spotted, the cries turn to whimpers as little hands reach out, wanting to be held, which she is happy to oblige. She cradled her in her arms, holding her close, humming softly to soothe her.

"See, she loves you." The words were so clear she almost thought he was there with them.

"I know," she whispered aloud as she continued to hold her contented little girl.

In silence, no one answers
But I still hear your voice

You made it to the end! Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.

If you or someone you know is struggling please know that help is available:

National suicide hotline (US): 800-273-8255

SAMHSA' Hotline (for treatment referrals): 800-662-HELP (4357)