Part 1
I didn't plan on killing myself when I woke up that morning.
It was just another day to me. I had been separated for 9 months and officially divorced for 5. That summer, my normal nights and body schedule completely slipped into something way different than normal. I started to stay up later because my mind would race. I could never get comfortable on my $1,000 bed. I tried blaming my pillow top mattress at first. Who was I kidding? It was me. Something off inside me. Some internal mechanism not lining up and just not clicking right. That's when the dark thoughts started too. At first it was a thought here and there. Over a few months in the hot summer's heat, the thoughts became more and more regular. I no longer tried to think of something else. After awhile, I actually welcomed them.
"Its just too hard…" "How did it come to this?" "No one has ever felt this" " I feel so alone... so alone."
These are just a few of the preceding thoughts I had before the much more darker ones of how to actually end my life. I mean, I didn't want to kill myself. That sounded gruesome to me, even messy. I just wanted to stop existing. I wanted to cease being. I just didn't want to be here anymore. It was too hard. I didn't want to hurt anymore. The pain was just too much. Writing this now, it sounds so cliche. But it was honest feelings back then. I really, really felt that way. It was impossible for me to see beyond the suffering. Impossible to think of anything positive.
I hid all of this. I didn't know who to talk to. My late night sobbing feeble attempted texts to the woman who had my heart were maybe the closest things to expressing my inner feelings. I remember talking to my best friend a couple times. But that's it. I didn't think anyone would ever come close to understanding my heartache. How could they? They never went through what I did. If I had told them, what gave them the right to even try to council me or offer me advice? It didn't make sense to me. No one was there for me. No one could be there for me. I didn't let them or even give them a chance.
My MMA gym in North Salt Lake was one place that truly had healing powers. The mats. The mats at my grappling gym are sacred. I can't even express how many times they saved me. Usually, I would feel like crap, show up to practice boxing and wrestling, sweat and bleed it out and feel great afterwards. I would be so worn out driving home that I had no time to think. No time alone with my unwelcome demons. I would get home, shower and collapse on my bed.
I got off work and hurried to my sanctuary with my gym bag. As I was pulling up in front of the training center, it happened. My heart started to race. My breathing got heavy. A terrible sense of fear and panic came over me. Anxiety. A full blown panic attack was rearing its ugly head. "Pull yourself together Morgan!" I said out loud in my Mercedes. " Come on, Come on" I urged myself.
I jumped out of my car, grabbed my training gear and headed inside. Heart a little faster. I quickly got changed and started warming up with my team. Coach Kiser had us do a quick warm up. Intense feeling of false reality. Immediately after he had us pair up and start throwing each other combination-punches.
"Dammit" I said to myself. " Hey man, I got to go, I'm so sorry." I quickly walked off the mat and started to changed. As I pulled on my hoody, Coach yelled " Morgan, you OK?" " Yeah I'm OK. I just got to go.". Lies, lies, lies. I was crumbling. I felt crazy. I was breaking.
I jumped in my Benz and sped off. It was a 25 min drive from the gym to my home. 25 minutes of crying uncontrollably. I don't know what happened. I just could not stop. Once it began there was no cure. Every thought of failure as a person filled my head. I wept and wept. When I finally thought I could pull it together, I cried harder. Pain. Regret. Sadness. It hurt so bad. "Why?"
As I pulled into my garage, I had hit rock bottom. I put the car in park and just sat there. A million thoughts went through my head. Then one thought seemed to just make sense to me. Close the garage door. I pressed the overhead garage door button in my car and watched the door go down in my rear view mirror. I left the car running. Was this it? Could this be the end of my pain? Was this my solution? I remained there for about 30-40 minutes then mustered up the courage to say goodbye to her. It was a simple phone call. It lasted less than 20 seconds. I asked a question. "What would you say if this was the last time you talked to me?" "Stop Morgan, this isn't funny." "Goodbye Nat." Then she hung up. Not me, but her. I then text my parents goodbye and sobbed, holding my phone with both hands. Garage door closed, engine running.
It was just another day to me. I had been separated for 9 months and officially divorced for 5. That summer, my normal nights and body schedule completely slipped into something way different than normal. I started to stay up later because my mind would race. I could never get comfortable on my $1,000 bed. I tried blaming my pillow top mattress at first. Who was I kidding? It was me. Something off inside me. Some internal mechanism not lining up and just not clicking right. That's when the dark thoughts started too. At first it was a thought here and there. Over a few months in the hot summer's heat, the thoughts became more and more regular. I no longer tried to think of something else. After awhile, I actually welcomed them.
"Its just too hard…" "How did it come to this?" "No one has ever felt this" " I feel so alone... so alone."
These are just a few of the preceding thoughts I had before the much more darker ones of how to actually end my life. I mean, I didn't want to kill myself. That sounded gruesome to me, even messy. I just wanted to stop existing. I wanted to cease being. I just didn't want to be here anymore. It was too hard. I didn't want to hurt anymore. The pain was just too much. Writing this now, it sounds so cliche. But it was honest feelings back then. I really, really felt that way. It was impossible for me to see beyond the suffering. Impossible to think of anything positive.
I hid all of this. I didn't know who to talk to. My late night sobbing feeble attempted texts to the woman who had my heart were maybe the closest things to expressing my inner feelings. I remember talking to my best friend a couple times. But that's it. I didn't think anyone would ever come close to understanding my heartache. How could they? They never went through what I did. If I had told them, what gave them the right to even try to council me or offer me advice? It didn't make sense to me. No one was there for me. No one could be there for me. I didn't let them or even give them a chance.
My MMA gym in North Salt Lake was one place that truly had healing powers. The mats. The mats at my grappling gym are sacred. I can't even express how many times they saved me. Usually, I would feel like crap, show up to practice boxing and wrestling, sweat and bleed it out and feel great afterwards. I would be so worn out driving home that I had no time to think. No time alone with my unwelcome demons. I would get home, shower and collapse on my bed.
I got off work and hurried to my sanctuary with my gym bag. As I was pulling up in front of the training center, it happened. My heart started to race. My breathing got heavy. A terrible sense of fear and panic came over me. Anxiety. A full blown panic attack was rearing its ugly head. "Pull yourself together Morgan!" I said out loud in my Mercedes. " Come on, Come on" I urged myself.
I jumped out of my car, grabbed my training gear and headed inside. Heart a little faster. I quickly got changed and started warming up with my team. Coach Kiser had us do a quick warm up. Intense feeling of false reality. Immediately after he had us pair up and start throwing each other combination-punches.
"Dammit" I said to myself. " Hey man, I got to go, I'm so sorry." I quickly walked off the mat and started to changed. As I pulled on my hoody, Coach yelled " Morgan, you OK?" " Yeah I'm OK. I just got to go.". Lies, lies, lies. I was crumbling. I felt crazy. I was breaking.
I jumped in my Benz and sped off. It was a 25 min drive from the gym to my home. 25 minutes of crying uncontrollably. I don't know what happened. I just could not stop. Once it began there was no cure. Every thought of failure as a person filled my head. I wept and wept. When I finally thought I could pull it together, I cried harder. Pain. Regret. Sadness. It hurt so bad. "Why?"
As I pulled into my garage, I had hit rock bottom. I put the car in park and just sat there. A million thoughts went through my head. Then one thought seemed to just make sense to me. Close the garage door. I pressed the overhead garage door button in my car and watched the door go down in my rear view mirror. I left the car running. Was this it? Could this be the end of my pain? Was this my solution? I remained there for about 30-40 minutes then mustered up the courage to say goodbye to her. It was a simple phone call. It lasted less than 20 seconds. I asked a question. "What would you say if this was the last time you talked to me?" "Stop Morgan, this isn't funny." "Goodbye Nat." Then she hung up. Not me, but her. I then text my parents goodbye and sobbed, holding my phone with both hands. Garage door closed, engine running.
Thank you for sharing this. I think these things can be really hard to share sometimes. Even though I know it takes a lot of courage, I think sharing these stories can help you connect with people that have been through similar things, and maybe just sort through your pathway to healing. I don't know exactly how it felt, but I can relate to the feeling of wishing I never existed. That is the worst feeling, I'm glad you've been able to move forward. Glad I've found a new blog to follow:)
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