Photo above is the view from our sacred fire circle on Washington Island
The Marietta House
by Jill Babiarz
My book is dedicated to all who have died by suicide that the world may understand our stories and help save lives.
Introduction
I almost died of suicide myself while living in the Marietta House. It was late November 2011 and the previous five years I had walked through the darkest years of my life. They included losing my 3 baby girls early on in pregnancy, losing one of my cats that helped me stay alive, losing my gymnastics coach who was like a second father to me, my mom almost dying of a heart attack on April 1st which was my 36th birthday and living in a very unhealthy marriage. I did finally become empowered enough to get divorced which included finding a new home for me and my home based yoga studio.
So Kalli and I packed up and moved to the Marietta House.
This adorable little home had this wonderful light filled living room that become my sacred yoga studio for many years. Kalli was my very special calico cat that was with me for 20 years, right by my side through so much. We moved in on March 1, 2010 exactly a month before my 35th birthday. My yoga students all came with me and the transition to the new home studio was smoother than I had anticipated. I remember a photo my parents took of me standing outside my front door before my very first student arrived, we all three had concluded that I landed on my feet.
Well not exactly.
My divorce hearing was that July, the whole process took about 6 months and even though fairly amabical, unbelievably exhausting physically, mentally and emotionally. I know some of you can completley relate with me. The Marietta House was my safe haven. It was quiet, cozy, warm and very loved by my landlords next door. The yard was incredible, suffice to say that I had an abundance of cut flowers throughout every spring, summer and fall for the 8 years I lived there. My favorite memory is my fire circle in my little sweet backyard under this gaint maple tree, you can’t even begin to imagine what all went into the sacred transmutative fire over those years.
Britta, Ella and Grace.
The month after the divorce I picked up a local magazine with the front cover titled Healing from Miscarriage and one woman’s story. At the bottom of the article I saw a support group that I could attend locally. My dear friend and massage therapist of many years Jennifer suggested it might help with my healing. I was not a stranger to support groups as I had already been in two that were life lines for me through my divorce. It was August now, one month after my divorce hearing and my body and heart felt safe enough and supported enough to began to grief my baby girls for the very first time since losing my first one seven years ago. I had no idea that I could and would do this.
A year later something is very wrong.
I am having a hard time writing emails, scheduling my students, cooking my meals and eating them, showering and simply getting through the day. Then I couldn’t sleep as nightmares of my past traumas were coming through and then I couldn’t teach anymore. Teaching yoga is my soul’s work and had sustained me through those 5 very dark years. It was as someone switched my brain off and I no longer knew how to function as a human being. I was 36. After not sleeping for 2 weeks I couldn’t tell day from night. I was inside this bubble and the world was on the outside and I didn’t know how to get out. What was going to happen to me. What is happening to me. I was not in the world anymore and had six different plans to die by suicide. Someone stepped in every time and didn’t let me follow through.
When you can’t eat, sleep, shower or work and you don’t know why and no one knows how to help you, you become dilerious and hopeless.
After being brought to urgent care once and twice to the ER, I was carefully helped to check myself into the psychiatry floor at the hospital. Suzanne, my therapist of a couple years then, drove me and helped me walk into the ER and spent all afternoon and evening with me till I finally checked in at 10:30pm. I remember having everything taken away from me, so naked short of the hospital gown and seated in this very little office with Dr. Schramm. I did not feel human. He was very kind and shared about his life a little and then asked me to share my story. I remember him saying he couldn’t believe I was still alive after the last 5 years and that I was right where I needed to be right now. He said you have physically survived those years and now you are walking through them mentally and emotionally.
He made me feel human again for the first time in months and that just maybe I would survive this. I was in-patient at St. Mary’s Hospital for 2 weeks and out-patient at Rogers Memorial Hospital for 5 weeks.
My life would never ever be the same again. That’s why I’m writing this book as the warm glorious sun pours into my office right now and gives me a big yes, you must do this. You will save lives.
…………………………………………..
September 30, 2008
We are alone.
I am lying on the big gray couch in the Legacy Lane house in so much pain. Cramping a lot. Bleeding. Losing my baby girl Grace. My third baby to leave my body. Britta was in 2003. Ella was last year. I’m in complete shock that I’m losing yet another baby from my sacred womb that has lost so much already. This time I have Vicodin on hand and I start taking it. It numbs the pain as I still feel myself bleeding then I fall asleep.
We are alone.
My neighbor friend Kate comes over and sits on the floor by the couch to hug me and cry with me. She has lost 2 babies herself. She understands like others don’t. Day turns to night. I’m taking Vicodin every 4 hours. I fall asleep without an alarm to alert me for the next 4 hour pill. I wake up in so much pain I can’t see straight and I stumble to the bathroom. Lots of blood and lots of pain. My baby is in the toilet now. I try to make it back to the couch but now I am crawling on the floor and then I’m just lying on the floor on my side. Crying in a lot of pain. I need the Vicodin before I pass out. My then husband comes from upstairs and says “shit… we forgot to give you another pill.” It’s 3am.
We are alone.
It’s mid morning now and I’m on the toilet again this time with a cup of tea in one hand and the other hand is pressed into the toilet seat holding me up between contractions. I set the cup of tea on the window sill and call Azani at The Madison Birth Center. We got to know them over there as we were losing baby Ella last year. She helps me breath and calm and trust and flow through the pain and loss. My then husband was at work. I slowly walk around the house in this fog that comes from all this Vicodin in my system. I look out the many windows and see the outside world wondering to myself … will I ever have a child?
Grace, now in her spirit body, and I are alone.
December 15, 2011
After being in the St. Mary’s Hospital psychiatry floor for one week, leaving for less than 24 hours, my dear friend Jennifer is helping me check back in. I’m sitting at the lunch table with 2 other patients, my head is hanging down and I don’t want to eat. One of the occupational therapists walks by and I make eye contact with her and she says “I’m so happy that you are back.” It meant the world to me at that moment as I was in so much shock from leaving the hospital in the state I did and just thank goodness that I made it back in time. Over my really scary 5 years previous to this, there were pivotal times that people would say things to me and they had no idea that they saved my life with their words. One that I remember so vividly is while my previous husband and I were in Paris, we stayed at this beautiful hotel with a sweet view of the Eiffel Tower from our deck. Before we got there we were on this week long guided tour that followed the last 7 days of the Tour de France. One morning as we all were getting on the charter bus, I remember our tour guide saying, “please no one die while you’re here because it’s a very complicated process to get your body back to the USA.” Of course, we all laughed a little and off we drove away to the next city the cyclists would be coming through later that day. A few days go by and our tour is officially over as the 21 day bike race always finishes in Paris. So we had our last couple days of this amazing Europe trip to explore Paris alittle. At this point, we’d been in Europe for almost 3 weeks and I was exhausted on all levels and in this very unhealthy marriage, in particular the 4 years prior to this trip. Deep deep deep depression had been setting in now for years and there were many scary moments before this one. My husband (at the time) was watching television and I was out on the deck and we were about 6 stories up and I was very close to jumping off and then I remembered what she said and those very words saved my life that day.
May 24, 2020
I am just finishing up my first 9 day module of yoga therapy school and writing has been pouring out of me every night after the full day of school this whole week. Today I come to my book here which feels a bit, actually a whole lot more vulnerable than my daily blog. The last couple days we’ve been working with Neil Pearson, Physical Therapist, Yoga Therapist and Assistant Clinical Professor at the University of British Colombia who researches, studies and speaks about pain care and is so passionate about all he’s learned and what all happens at his business which is Pain Care U. He just recently co-authored the highly esteemed book, Yoga and Science in Pain Care: Treating the Person in Pain. So of course we’re talking about pain on all levels and just how interrelated they all are… levels being physical, emotional, thoughts, breath, etc. And as we break up in small groups and we begin to speak of emotions, thoughts and suicide with pain of course I’m compelled to share a little of my story. I do the best I can to help my group understand what this type of pain is like that can bring you to suicide thoughts. The feedback I receive is “please write your book for all of us to learn” and “thank you for your willingness to share something so big and vulnerable” and “I look forward to reading and hearing your story” and “That perspective about not knowing there is help out there is really helpful Jill” and the most important comment to me was “Who and where should we refer people to for suicide comments.” And for years now I have been getting comments like this especially when I am immersed in my deep yoga trainings. It’s like I have this time to step into myself so deeply that I can hear my soul singing… you want to change the world in a big way and you can so lets go! As my therapist said to me one day, “what are you waiting for Jill.” As if that is an easy question but she has been working with me for over 10 years now and she knows my story through and through. She was the one who was able to see that I had something really really big to offer for the healing of the world and that is wasn’t my time yet to leave this human body even though I thought it was. So I often say when others die, especially of suicide… “why did I get to stay and they didn’t.” The tears usually flow so much with this contemplation as I sit with why I am still here at 45 years old and did not die from depression through suicide at 36 years old. This past February marked 8 years that I have been in full remission. And as you can imagine my support system is profound and relied on daily. So back to others comments about going forward with this book. For whatever reason or perhaps from the last 15 years of such intentional self care and self love and self compassion, I have begun to embody that I am good enough. I am good enough to write this book. I am good enough to be a Mom. I am good enough to speak about my story. I am good enough to empower others to share their stories. So here I am, from this day forward I am writing every day, either on my blog page (Jewels from Jill) or in my book (The Marietta House). So my soulmate, Christopher and I decided last night at the dinner table that we are going to do this together. The day will come where my book will be shared around the world and where I will be speaking around the world. All the while keeping my roots in Madison meaning my private practice of yoga therapy and craniosacral therapy and my home residence. I have been here now for 20 years and it is home and it will always be home. This is todays art and there is deep meaning in it for me. The number 8 has held significance in my life for a while and I did not know why till today. As the art come out, so did the answers, pondering, curiosity and surrender. More to come on this later.
