Jan 25,2011
I woke up this morning and my mood was absolutely rock bottom. It took forever for me to wake up. I felt like I was walking in mud and by the time I actually made it out the door for therapy, I was exhausted. So I had this session with a crazy therapist that wants me to live despite feeling like an asswipe. I don’t know really what happened today. We were sitting there talking and I was overwhelmed with all that I have to do for my research job and then go into my clinical job and I just felt the intense urge to die and told her so. She says no which pissed me off more and I told her I wasn’t going to see her again. The exhaustion I have been feeling the past three weeks, overwhelmed as I was sitting there pondering what to do. Should I call out knowing that my supervisors are going to say something as this is the 3rd time I have called out on a Monday or go in and tread the mud and anguish of a 4 hour shift. I chose to call out and went home. Didn’t do a thing but couldn’t really sleep as I felt guilty about not working. Then to make matters worse, my boss called me around 5:30pm for something I do not know about. I totally forgot about the lab meeting this morning but getting up early is always hard for me, especially when I work till midnight and stay up till about 2 am to get to sleep, if I can.
I also tried to call my friend in South Africa as he is having a difficult time right now with his nerve injury. He is the bravest man I know who has a good heart. He is from Scotland and grew up in England. I love his accent though sometimes it is difficult to understand when he talks fast (sorry Guy). I was finally able to reach him and text him to let him know I am there for him. For some reason whenever I am in this hell of psychache, reaching out to someone helps ease the pain. I know my friend is worried sick about his future. I had helped him years ago through a crisis and he is grateful that I was able to help him. He calls me his therapist, which I get freaked out about because I am not licensed or trained. I just have enough experience with this bullshit to get to the heart of the matter without talking a lot of jargon. I have always like the word jargon…it makes things sound more complicated than it is yet that is the true meaning of the word.
Anyways, it’s 1:30 am now and my meds still have not knocked me out. I hope I am not going through cycling, where I am hypomanic and then depressed and then hypomanic and then crash deeper into depression. That will fricken kill me.
Tomorrow I really don’t know what I am going to do. I might take another off day but I don’t really know that I can.I just want to get these projects done yet I am so fricken overwhelmed by them it freaks me out and I can’t prioritized, focus, or get the motivation to do what I have to do. I am stuck in limbo with my feet in cement trying to walk and talk and appear all happy to others because if anyone knew just how suicidal I truly am, they most likely would laugh or not take me seriously. All the more reason why I should make an attempt. I just want to get it out of my system. If it works then fine, my worries are over but if not, then I am truly a failure.
One of the members of the support group that I have talk today about how suicide wrecks families. But would the feelings be the same if the sufferer were dying of cancer? Would you want that person to continue suffering just so YOU don’t have to because they are going to die? People with serious painful depressions don’t have the luxury of their own bodies to say ok heart muscles, I have had enough stop working. Or to tell the brain stem to stop the lungs working because they have had enough pain, anguish, and despair to keep forcing air into their lungs when all they want is to stop it. You want to know why a person kills themselves, I’ll tell you, it is because they are in so much friggen mental pain, anguish, shame, guilt, despair, and agony that they just cannot go on anymore. Maybe someone left them, maybe they lost their job and so they are losing their house. Or maybe things appear to be going well in their lives but it is all built around the façade that if they truly knew what was going on in their heads, they would be locked up. President Lincoln was a good example of this. Most of his closest friends, which were few, knew that he had a darkness that he couldn’t control. In one of the books I read, it said that he often thought of hanging himself on a tree outside the white house because the war was going to badly, his Union was dissipating into nothing and people were dying because of the separation. Yet he didn’t go through with it. But, unfortunately or maybe fortunately, John Wilkes Booth was able to end his life. That was tragic, but would it have been more tragic to see a man suffer all his life with this illness and see no possible end to it. To be forced to live against one’s will just so other people not feel sad at their death?? Death is a part of life. It might come natural, tragic, or self inflicted. Every time I hear about a suicide, I feel a little but happy for that person because I KNOW they are no longer in pain. They are free.
midnightdemons7 