I started writing my lyrics book. I don’t know if I will ever get it published because of copyrights but I will worry about that when I am close to finishing.
I was supposed to get my blood work done today but I forgot my lab slip and headphones but didn’t want to miss the bus so I guess it will have to be another day.
It always surprises me the way people think about suicide and suicidal thinking. They think that you must be angry at someone or something. That something is keeping you here or you would have done it or that you are all talk until you do it. Or that you have to be in some mega pain (correctly so) to think of such things. I guess there still is some people that think that because they have had some experience with suicide because they themselves have thought about or even acted about it, they think they are experts. Well they are, to a degree. Not all people want to help after they have attempted. Some shy away from it and call it just a bad experience and vow never to go down that road again. Some continue to be suicidal, like myself. But I still want to help those that are suffering because it means that someone cares.
I have been writing for months (or what seems like months) about having a suicidal plan. The only people that know are my readers and my therapist. I am fearful of bringing up the subject with my psychiatrist for being hospitalized against my will. There are days, like today, that I don’t think I will go through with my plan. Then there are times that I think I will just for kicks and giggles. But the hardest part of this crazy plan is that it is not too detailed. I have a vague idea about what exactly I will be doing to kill myself. And because of this vagueness, I feel that I shouldn’t go through with it. The last thing I want is another failed attempt. That would devastate me more than anything.
As I was writing my lyric book, the first song that was on my list of songs was O.A.R’s “Shattered”. How fucking fitting. All throughout my suicidal career, I have always seemed to “turn the car around” and get back to my bearings, meaning that no matter how bad things were for me, I got through it, somehow, some way. And I am talking pitch black darkness. I don’t know what got me through each battle. Someone’s kindness, the neediness of my nieces and nephew, the words of my therapist or psychiatrist. I just don’t know but I got through it and some how came out the other side unscathed.
When I was a teenager and young adult, I cut to relieve myself of the awful pressure and pain that I was feeling. Today, the scars remind me that there were bad times and I got through with them. They are sort of like hash marks for all the trials and tribulations that I have gone through in my life. I don’t talk about these scars with anyone. They are just there as a reminder that I have seen darker days and some how pulled through. It helps to have these scars because they are real. They are the reminders I need to pull through along the rough patches that I continue to face. It is like they are almost saying, “you go through that, you can get through this”.
The trouble is, this time I don’t know if I want to “turn the car around”. I want my suffering to end. I want my pain to end, both physically and psychologically. I am tired of fighting every day. But then I have days like today where the battle doesn’t seem to great and I make it another day. But I am so scared of what tomorrow or tonight might bring. I never know when my demons will emerge from the darkness. So I have a date I look forward to. A date that will decide my fate, to test my resilience. To see if I will go through with ending my life. It is after all my choice. No one can really stop me for if not this date, then I will just pick another date.
Next song on my list is Linkin Park’s “numb”. How fitting.
midnightdemons7 