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Who Is Michelle?!?!

Well hello there! My name is Michelle Evans. I am a daughter, niece, cousin, aunt, sister, wife and mother. It's taken many years to get my thoughts straight. And it was a long road. Kelli Hansen (the creator of this movement) and I have been friends since freshman year of high school. She didn't even know my story until recently. My story, which you are about to hear, was tightly under wraps for many years.

From early childhood, through adulthood, my mom would scream at me, belittle me, make me feel like bacteria scum on a wall. I quit talking to her for 4 years. And wouldn't allow my son to see her. Mothers Day 2019, I opened the door back up to her for a fresh start. This was a huge piece to the way I felt internally.

I had many troubles in middle school. I was the new kid on the block. I had 2 best friends, and all 3 of us were bullied from 6th - 8th grade. Aside from my 2 best friends, I had other friends who were on the darker side of life. Smoking, drinking, smoking pot, your typical teenage rebels. The middle of 8th grade, we moved to another city. I finished 8th grade year and was enrolled into the other high school.

Summer came and went. I lost all the weight, I was made fun of from the previous years and got contacts. Again, I was the new kid on the block. Only this time, in high school. This time was different. Everyone was so nice. I made friends quickly with all the "groups." The preps, jocks, skaters, stoners, dorks. I mean everyone. I was off to an amazing start until 1st quarter almost completed.

My mom read my diary and read I was drinking and smoking weed. She decided to ship me out to live with my grandparents in Tennessee. Please keep in mind a few things. I had only met them once (when I was 4) and my Grandpa was a Southern Baptist Preacher. This meant: Dresses daily, church 4 times a week (plus youth group), only gospel music, no friends outside our race, etc. Yet another time where I am the new kid on the block.

I finished my stay through the school year, and made some amazing friends. Then it was time to go home. When I returned,I met up with my old friends. My old main group. Only this time, they were into bigger and badder things. They were using Meth, Cocaine, Acid, Special K, GHB, etc. Me being me, decided to dive right into it.

Sophomore year came and went. This was probably my best year! Junior year began, and I started getting into trouble, I blame the drugs. So my mom transferred me to the alternative high school. I was comfortable there, because I had some friends there. But was also intimidated, because some of the students there were the kids from my past that made fun of me. So I had a ton of mixed emotions flooding my brain.

My mom tried putting me into an outpatient rehab and had me see a therapist. Rehab didn't last long. And the therapist said I was Bipolar and prescribed me Lithium, which made me not feel like myself. I tried telling my mom and the therapist that I wasn't bipolar. I acted the way I did because of being on the drugs to "coming down" off of them. No one listened or no one understood.

Around this time, my mind was clouded. I was happy, sad, stressed, mad, moody, etc. ALL AT THE SAME TIME. I was at my breaking point.

I was home, and it was about 8pm. My mom, my older brother (19) and my younger brother (15) were all home. My older brother said one thing to me, and I don't remember what it was. But because I was already at my breaking point, I snapped. I tried calling everyone I knew. And I mean EVERYONE. Either they didn't answer, they couldn't talk, or they didn't return my page (this was in the 90's, when we used pagers haha!) I made one last call. It was short and brief. But he answered. I told him I couldn't take life anymore and wanted to kill myself. He told me not to do anything, to get some sleep and he'd see me tomorrow.

But by this time, it had been too late. I walked into the bathroom and grabbed an economy size bottle, 500mg, extra strength. I took every single one of those pills, and that bottle was full.

I don't remember much after that. I remember my mom calling 911 (saying she found me in a pool full of blood and vomit), the paramedics telling her I was limp like a noodle, the nurses shoving the tube up my nose to my stomach. I remember them pumping my stomach with charcoal, and someone saying it wasn't enough and they were losing me.

I was transferred to ICU. I was told I was so critical I was in a roomful of infants. They had to give me Mucomyst every 4 hours. This made me gag. It smelt like rotten eggs!! And they had to administer Acetylcysteine. When I woke up, there was a curtain wrapped around my bed, my mom sitting there, and 2 doctors talking to my mom. They said I was lucky, because I had 4 hours left to live.

After I was released, I was mandatory transferred to a psych unit for 2 or 3 weeks. I don't remember much from there. Except the screams from other kids in the middle of the night, girls that had eating disorders, this boy trying to become my boyfriend.

It was time to go home. Everything was back to normal. I went back to school, where there were whispers that I was selfish, I did it for attention, etc. I ignored those comments and told the principle that I just wanted to hurry and graduate. I did. In fact, I graduated a semester early, and still got to walk with my EHS class. That made me smile, because that is where all my true friends were. My friends who "got" me.

After I graduated, I moved out and in with some guy friends. I was 17. By the time I was 18, I left everything in CO behind and moved to WI to get sober on my own. After 6 months, I returned to CO. And I ended up pregnant right away.

I had a difficult pregnancy and labor. I was induced and my son was 6 weeks early (in NICU.) When my son was 18 months, I fell back into my old ways with my old friends. I got caught up, went to jail, took a deferred sentence. When I got out, I picked my son up from my mom and drove him to his dad's. I told him I needed help and I was checking into rehab for an outpatient group for a year. I needed him to watch him during this time, because I didn't want him to see me go through withdraws, etc. A week later, I was slapped with custody papers. The same judge that put me in jail is the same judge that gave him custody.

This killed me inside. Did I think about suicide again? Yes!! I was trying to better myself and my world was taken from me. Instead of falling into those thoughts, I pushed forward and completed rehab at 22 yrs old. During the time my son was with his dad, he was abusing him. So that SAME judge, gave custody back to me, with restraining orders against his dad, etc.

I got my son into therapy. Fast forward years later to when my son was 10, he was diagnosed with PDD NOS (this is on the Autism Spectrum), Anxiety, PTSD, ADHD. During his 1st 10yrs of life, he had already had 4 surgeries.

Have I had stressful days and thoughts like I did back then? It would be a lie if I said no. However, I am now 40 (my son 19), and I have lost many friends along the way. Many from suicide.

Today I share my story and I share it loud. Some think or say it's too late. But that's not true. There will ALWAYS be someone there for you to listen to you and talk to you. There is help out there.

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