A few years ago I tried taking my own life. I jumped 35 feet onto concrete. My brother took his own life when I was 21 so I already felt genetically dispositioned. Right before I jumped I remember thinking all this was too much. I felt I had the weight of the world on my shoulders and it had me at the most hopeless spot in my life. I saw no point of living and I had cut off all contact and became very isolated.
After the jump I remember waking up in the hospital struggling with the thoughts that brought me to the point of taking my own life. As if the physical pain I was in wasn’t enough. I still had the daunting thoughts that brought me to the darkest place I’ve ever been.
Friends and family started visiting me while in the hospital and I started to feel cared for and wanted in this life. It was a slow process it took awhile to feel connected to the people that I had strayed from while coping with daughter’s death.
When I came back home, I was pretty much in a full body cast, bed ridden. After getting out of the body cast I was able to be in a wheelchair, which I was in for 8 months until I started walking again. I remember the first time I took steps around my neighborhood and my boyfriend started crying.
Years went by and I found healthy coping skills to deal with my daughter’s death. I began to draw which was something I loved to do while in college. But it didn’t completely take my mind off of motherhood. I questioned was I not worth being a mother? What is my purpose in life if not to leave a legacy behind? All these questions gravitated me to wanting to be a mother. I became pregnant with Jeremiah who is now 3 weeks old and a healthy baby boy. I love and cherish my son and look forward to waking up and caring for him every morning. Though he can’t replace my daughter my heart has grown to love them both and most importantly I have grown to love myself.
~ Candace Jones
