SheHacks_Team-015/depressionstory.html at main · Puja-Saraf/SheHacks_Team-015 · GitHub

1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
    <meta charset="UTF-8">
    <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0">
    <title>Real Women, Real Story</title>
    <link rel="stylesheet" href="depressionstory.css">
    <link rel="preconnect" href="https://fonts.gstatic.com">
    <link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Merienda+One&display=swap" rel="stylesheet">
</head>
<body>
    <div class="box1"></div>
    <div class="box2"></div>
    <div class="box3"></div>
    <div class="box4"></div>
    <div class="box5"></div>
    <div class="box6"></div>
    <div class="box7"></div>
    <div class="box8"></div>
    <div class="box9"></div>
    <div class="box10"></div>
    <div class="box11"></div>
    <div class="box12"></div>
    <div class="box13"></div>
    <div class="box14"></div>

    <img src="images\depression.png" class="img">
    <div class="quote">" It's been six years since my suicide attempt. And I'm letting myself shed tears about it now. "</div>
    <div class="topic">I'm Letting Myself Shed Tears for My Pain, and That's Okay</div>

    <div class="text">
        <p>Six years. That's how long it's been since my suicide attempt. After <span id="pink">decades of living with migraine pain,</span> I had just wanted it to stop.</p>
        <p>Last Sunday, as I waited in the terminal for my plane to start boarding, I was reminded of it by a Facebook memory. The realization of it hit me pretty hard. I immediately became sad and all of those horrible feelings came rushing back. But I shoved them down and tried to concentrate on getting to Arizona, with a <span id="pink">migraine</span> no less, in time for that evening's working <span id="pink">Coalition For Headache And Migraine Patients (CHAMP)</span> dinner.</p>
        <p>Last week, I was in Scottsdale for the fourth annual CHAMP stakeholder meeting and the <span id="pink">National Headache Foundation</span> Patient Leadership Council's second meeting. From Sunday through Thursday, I had meetings, working dinners, workshops, and training sessions. I needed to be fully present at every single event. I already had to battle a daily intractable migraine, which was extremely challenging as it caused a lot of issues with concentrating and retaining information.</p>
        <p>Having this memory hanging in the back of my mind the entire time made me feel detached from reality. Often, I would find myself wanting to burst into tears in the middle of a meeting or dinner. It was incredibly hard trying to be actively sharing ideas when I was a mess of emotions internally. So much of my energy was being spent battling physical and emotional pain that I barely had enough left-over to do the work I was there to do.</p>
        <p>Honestly, most of last week is a blur. I do not remember much of what was said or done during the meetings, and I feel like an absolute failure for that. I could have reached out more than I did (a few of my closest friends I did tell), but I felt like a walking pity party when I did. I was holding up the façade pretty well—until Tuesday.</p>
        <p>We had a media training that day and at one point, we were split into two groups to work on an interview exercise. Each of us were given a question to ask the next person and our task was to bridge into what our organization is about. Diane Byron Henry, of the <span id="pink">Danielle Byron Henry Migraine Foundation,</span> was in my group. Diane's daughter, Danielle, tragically took her life at the age of 17 after a long struggle with migraine disease. When it was Diane's turn to be interviewed, she spoke about her beautiful daughter and why the foundation was created.</p>
        <p>It was difficult for Diane to talk about Danielle and hearing her story triggered a lot of emotions for me. I couldn't hold it in anymore and the tears just flowed down my face. My heart was breaking for both Diane and Danielle.</p>
        <p>My own suicide attempt seemed so fresh and recent at that moment. The pain, anger and hurt it caused my own parents felt raw. I remembered my thoughts of thinking that there was nothing left fighting for because the pain was just too unbearable. All those emotions from six years ago came back.</p>
        <p>And it was in that moment that I realized that I never allowed myself to be sad or grieve for myself. I was always preoccupied with feeling guilty, ashamed, and embarrassed about my actions. I had thought about how the attempt affected my husband, kids, and parents more than how it affected me. In some way, I felt like I didn't have the right to be upset about how it made me feel because of how it turned my family's life upside down. After what I put them through, how could I dare to be selfish and cry for the Jaime who was in so much pain?</p>
        <p>After the training session ended, I went to my room to rest. By that time, my head was pounding and I needed to take my medicines and lie down for a bit before dinner that evening. Instead of napping, I found myself crying. Crying for the six years I held it all in. Crying for how desolate and defeated I felt. Crying for thinking my husband and kids would have a better and less burdensome life without me in it. Crying for believing that dying was far better than living.</p>
        <p>Facebook is still reminding me through all of the “get well” posts family left on my wall six years ago. I am still processing it all. In fact, I cried writing this. None of this is easy and sometimes I think of how much easier it would have been had I been successful. Or would it? Who knows if I wouldn't have the same feelings of guilt and shame on the other side. Regret would probably be a big one, too, if I had completed the suicide.</p>
        <p>Either way, I will most likely carry this for the rest of my life. But at least for now, I am grieving for the woman who just wanted all the pain from migraines to stop. For too long, I forbade myself to shed any tears for my pain. After six years, I think it's time to let her cry her heart out.</p>
    </div>

    <div class="author">- Jaime M. Sanders</div>

    <img src="images\Logo.jpg" class="logo">
    <div class="name" id="she">She</div> <div class="name" id="care">Care</div>
</body>
</html>