Salt Lake Running Company created by a profile thief. Dont use them.

There was a day when it was a battle NOT to commit su***de. I had been having flashbacks to multiple rapes. I work daily, convinced I was being r***d in my own bed each day. (It wasn't a figment of my imagination, but at the time I wasn't sure.) I was going to leave. Try to heal. So I could go home and be a better wife.

I knew my husband would need extra support, so I was going to tell his psychiatrist that I was leaving for a while. He had an appointment that day. We were both going to get what we needed.

I got a text message from him. "Appointment today cancelled." The next thing I knew, I tasted gun oil from the barrel of my pistol. I didn't know how it got there. I checked to see if I had loaded it. I had. And I had chambered a round. I didn't remember doing it.

I thought about my husband. Two weeks before he had admitted to being involved with someone else. He would find comfort in the arms of his lover.

I thought about my children. How they were blaming me for the misery their father was experiencing. They would be happy for his sake. And they would get sympathy for having a crazy mother who had killed herself. They would be better off.

Was there a reason to stay alive? Would my death negatively impact anyone?

I found someone who would suffer. Someone who had treated me with respect. Someone who would suffer financially by my death. That man, my landlord, never knew he had saved my life. The fact he would never be able to rent the house again stayed my hand.

My family was not enough. It took a near stranger. The battle isn't as hard most days, but it IS still a struggle.

Depression sucks. It sucks life. It sucks hope. It sucks the very will to live.

To a deeply depressed mother, su***de isn't selfish: Kate Spade probably thought she was relieving her loved ones of a burden - NY Daily News When a mother, regardless of her celebrity status, kills herself, the first question is usually: What kind of mother would purposely abandon her child or children? Many people assume a selfish one.

ONE MOMENT IN TIME.

Anyone who has struggled with suicidal ideation has come to that one moment in time. That moment when a decision has to be made. The pain is unbearable. There is no one else left to talk to. No one who can help. There is such bleakness, such darkness. There is no way out.

Chester Bennington reached that moment one time to many. This time, he wasn't able to pull away. He lost. The band lost. His family lost. His friends lost. We all lost.

I grieve for his pain, the pain he tried so hard to escape .Through drugs. Through his songs. I grieve for the pain his friends and family feel now. The loss that seems senseless, unless you've been there.

I have. I reached that moment in time. Came very near not making it past. My thoughts in those last moments?

That my husband would find solace in the arms of the lover he had admitted having just two weeks before. My children would be so grateful that I wasn't there "causing grief" for their dad, there would be relief, not sadness. Oh, a moment of shame felt because their mother "took the coward's way out", but they would get sympathy for that, so the shame wouldn't last.

My very last thought before I ate the bullet that would ease the pain was that my landlord would never be able to rent that house again. And he had treated me too well to deserve that. I made it past, due to a man that never knew that I was suicidal.

I've reached that moment in time several times since then. But my resources are better. I have a friend that loves me enough that he would hold my hand as I pull the trigger so that I don't have to die alone. The pain in his voice as he made that promise has stayed my hand. I call and we talk. I share the darkness, and he helps me carry the load. The darkness eventually lifts.

I've known people who haven't made it past that moment. It's a sadder world without their presence. I've known others who have reached that moment and reached out, and I have responded by being that ear to listen to the darkness and try to help share it.

I believe that if there is a God, then that God knows and honors the struggle. That God knows the depths of despair that were reached. That God knows who could have reached out a hand to help, and instead chose to judge after the fact. And that God knows who would have helped, had they only known.

I dont know your particular demons. But I know the pain they caused. Rest in peace, Chester. You will be missed.

I have nothing against Salt Lake Running Company. I've never been there. Don't know them. I woke up to a "hack alert" from Facebook which asked me to change my password before proceeding. I did so. I found about half of my pending friend requests allowed, people that I tried to protect from known enemies in my life. And I found this page had been created under my primary account. I asked Facebook to delete it. They did not. So I asked them to change the name. I left the beginning of the name but added that a profile thief had created the page.

I've decided to use it. It provides a level of anonymity one doesn't find other places. Perhaps after time, I'll ask Facebook to change the name again to reflect where the page has gone.