Do Something

Back in 2010, the boys and I were going through a trauma.

It felt very, very dark and scary and sad and hurtful and overwhelming.

We had moved back into my mom's basement. 

I had changed the boys' school AGAIN.

I had been shoving everything into that symbolic closet my WHOLE life.

I was done.

I just wanted to go home, and I didn't mean Ridgemark Drive.

I meant home. To God.

To make matters even harder, I was assaulted during this trauma.

One day, after being at Lagoon all day with my boys, I texted my Miss Birdie and told her that I was planning to go home.

To me, in my very broken brain and heart, this seemed like the LOGICAL thing to do.

When people asked if I thought about my children during this decision, I was insulted.

OF COURSE I thought about my children. I thought about how much better they were going to be without me.

That is a sure sign of a broken human.

Miss Birdie threatened to call the authorities, which infuriated me.

I asked her if she had thought about how my children would react to that... not even considering the fact that her calling the authorities would be much LESS traumatizing than me killing myself.

Broken human.

I told her I would go to the hospital with my step-mom.

And I did.

I showed up, went to check-in and very matter-of-factly told them I wanted to die please.

They immediately went into trauma mode and put me in THE ROOM... 

The doctor came in.

I was NOT having it.

I told him that it was really none of his business, or anyone else's for that matter, if I wanted to die.

He told me, "Listen. We are not in the business of letting people kill themselves and we are not about to start today."
And walked out.

I was SO offended by his sass!

Broken human.

I was then given A LOT of drugs and slept for the next 36 hours.

Miss Birdie held true to her promise and sure as heck called Sandy Police and a social worker that she knew. They all showed up. I didn't like any of them. I didn't like anyone. I sure as heck didn't like Miss Birdie at the time. How dare she?!

Turns out, my medication needed to be changed.

Turns out I only weighed 104 pounds and had an eating disorder.

Turns out I was BROKEN.

I needed rest. I needed serious, one-on-one therapy. I needed to discover that I LOVE coloring. I needed to gain weight. I needed to start again.

Obviously this wasn't a "healing" moment, as I clearly needed a stroke to turn me around 8 years later, but it was a step.

Fast forward to this week.

A couple of months ago, I received a Facebook friend request.

I always go to the profile of the person because I've been friended by some not-so-healthy-for-me people.

If you're a guy, I sure as shiz am going to see if you are married.

If I don't know people that you know, I am not going to be hitting "confirm."

For some reason, I friended a girl that I didn't know at all.

I immediately started to see posts from her that were disturbing. She hates herself. She is ugly. She is fat. She is dumb. No one likes her. She is not likeable. She has four little kids, but isn't a good mom.

I privately messaged her and asked her who was telling her these things.

She replied that she was.

I told her to tell her voice to shut up.

I told her those things are not true and to stop.

I didn't see posts for a bit.

Then this week, I saw some pretty disturbing ones.

Tuesday and Wednesday, in particular, were bad.
She talked about dying.

She talked about not wanting to be alive anymore.
She talked about being done.

I know nothing about this girl.

I don't know where she lives. 

I don't know where she works.

I know nothing.

For a half-a-second I thought to myself, "Well, people who love her will surely see this and surely do something about it."

Then I thought about Miss Birdie.

Had she not done anything that night.

At that time.

In that moment.

I would not be here.

Period.

So, I did as much investigating as I could.
I think I found the city she lives in and I contacted that police department.
I gave them the link to her FB profile and told them that I was super concerned about her, but didn't know her and would appreciate if someone could contact her.

They responded that they would.

I have no idea what the outcome was or what it will be.

But I know this - when we are in a position to do something, we need to do it.

We might question ourselves.

We might think that we need to stay out of people's business.

We might think that someone else will take care of it.

We might think that there is nothing that we can possibly do.

We need to put those thoughts aside and do something anyways.

Here's why:
If Miss Birdie hadn't done what she did that night, I would never have experienced this:

JOY.

Laughter.

Happiness.

MY BOYS.

My babies.

Growth.

LIFE.

PS. 

I love my Miss Birdie so big.

She is in my kitchen cabinet and has been for about 13 years now.

She is one of those people that Heavenly Father knew I'd need.

He's never wrong.

Be that someone for someone.