“I was at lunch with friends, light on sleep, and full on caffeine. I was already wildly anxious after having a bad breakup, an unexpected job change, and being hit by a car (I mean, seriously?), and then, out of nowhere, I couldn’t breathe. I was so nauseous I was profusely sweating. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you,’ I was told. I was damn close to calling myself a nice little ambulance. I didn’t leave my house for 2 months.”
“For a split second, I looked to my husband and thought, ‘What did you—wait, it couldn’t have been you. You can’t be the father.’ Wait, did I? I was delirious and BAFFLED. Neither my sister, my best friend, nor husband said a single word. We were in complete shock.”
“My dad called me. Someone on social media had messaged my sister telling her that our mom had passed away. I broke down. Crying uncontrollably, I couldn’t breathe. My 2-year-old son didn’t understand why his mommy was so upset. All I ever hoped for was now shattered. She was gone, the mom I needed. We waited for the coroner to confirm it. Meth and heroin mixed together. That was the last straw. I never meant to hate her, but sometimes I did.”
“She went from surpassing all her milestones to not being able to walk, drink, or eat. I was tired of going home from the hospital with no answers, the typical run around from doctors. One day, with 10 residents, 5 doctors, and 4 nurses in front of me, I said, and I quote, ‘Discharge her again and I promise I’ll sue every single person standing in this room.’ Needless to say, they ran every test. I now know that instead of her burying me, I’ll be burying her.”
“I walked into my dad’s room and sat with him as he laid there. He was feeling anxious. He told me he couldn’t breathe. To get Mom. We phoned my grandparents to say their goodbyes. They told my Dad it was ‘okay, he could go home.’ My dad waited as my husband walked through the doors. ‘When did he pass?,’ my husband asked. ‘Right now,’ I replied. My father waited for the man he knew could hold me through this wretched pain.”
“My partner and I kept arguing. Stress mounted. Next thing you know, I was dry heaving, teeth chattering. I just lost it. All of it. For the next 24 hours, I couldn’t speak to anyone from the outside, not even my husband. The paper scrubs the emergency room had given me had to come off, leaving me naked, shaking, and disoriented. How was this even real? I felt like I was watching a scene from a movie, rather than participating in my own life. But it was happening, and it was REAL.”
“I started to call 911, but hung up. There was a more important call I needed to make. My husband at work. ‘Wiley’s dead.’ I couldn’t sugar coat this and didn’t have time to explain. I had approximately 4 minutes to explain to his twin brother that his best friend had died before 15 people swarmed our home. I asked him to pick a location where he would feel safe. Then, sirens.”
“Little by little, I was completely reeled in, under the impression I was speaking to a 16-year-old girl with a traumatic childhood. The next morning she called me names and said, ‘This isn’t going to work. I’m finding someone else.’ I was completely devastated. ‘What the hell just happened?’ This person doesn’t ask for money. They don’t ask for material possessions. She literally just wants to destroy you.”
“For my wedding last year, I did something atypical. I put on not one, but two sets of wedding rings. In case you think I’m a psycho who is still in love with her first husband, you could be right. I didn’t take them off by choice—I took them off because he died. Three days after my son was born, I became a widow.”
“This morning was a battle. I worry. I worry because they are being picked on. It’s hard letting go, watching them hurt and struggle to find their way. We save our tears for the car, so they don’t doubt themselves.”
