I am a survivor of suicide attempts

I wrote a quick blog yesterday about the stigma of suicide. I asked wouldn’t it be nice to say to people you survived suicide like you survived cancer? I listened to the WEEI radio to hear my Sox game and it amazes me how quick people are to say they survived cancer but hide in the dark when talking about taking their own life. Both people are fighting for their lives. Granted one is bodily and the other is mostly mental but it still begs to question why there is a different in the illness. Suicide is the result usually of untreated depression or other mental illness. Most people think that it is depression that causes people to think about suicide but it is not. You can be psychotic and think about killing yourself. I know. I have been through it with my psychosis. I have had voices tell me to kill myself, in fact in one of the delusion it was considered a command order. Psychotic disorders often get tossed by the way side when considering suicide but a recent article in JAMA showed that it can pave the way to catching suicide attempts if asked about. The study showed that teens with psychotic symptoms are more apt to attempt suicide than non-psychotic teens.

But you don’t need to be in a mental state to be in the suicidal mind. That is what is so devastating about suicide is that people before they commit suicide look and act “normal”. I know that people who are suffering from cancer can look anything but normal. They can be bald or look skeletons. They are really fighting to be alive while those that are thinking about suicide just want to die. People with cancer are the lucky ones. Their suffering will end. People know this. But those of us with mental illness we continue to suffer and when we decide to give up and end the fight, we are looked down upon and treated often inhumanely. We then feel ashamed of ourselves for trying to end the pain and failing at it. We end up in the hospital to “save ourselves from more destruction”. All we want is peace, same as the cancer patient that is terminally ill. We want the suffering to end.

To some people, they believe that suicide is preventable. To some people it is but you are not going to catch the majority of people most at risk. You cannot stop every suicide. People have the right to kill themselves if they so choose to do so. It is the ones that survive that have the right to speak about it. Because those that survive depending on their reaction to their own attempt might be clues to whether they survive or not. I have survived the past several years despite making elaborate plans on killing myself. I really want to die but my reasons for living keep me going. I don’t like it but I can’t picture my sister telling my eight year old niece that I have passed on. She is my baby and I don’t want to hurt her or my other nieces or my nephew. My nephew is what kept me going during a very difficult time in my life. I wish that I had succeeded but because I didn’t, I got to see him grow into a man and graduate from high school. I didn’t think that he would or that I would live to see the day he did.

It saddens me that I am still alive when all I want to be is dead. I don’t know why I preserve. Right now I am in a lot of pain and I don’t like it. I don’t know if I am going to get any sleep tonight because of it. Where is the training of medical doctors to handle chronic pain? There isn’t any. I don’t get asked what my mental status is during medical visits anymore. It is just assumed that I am ok because I have a smile on my face. Didn’t matter that the day before I was in so much pain that I was in bed all day, taking pain pills every four-six hours. Maybe I was happy because I could finally get out of the house and go to my doctor’s appointment and I wasn’t in pain. The siege was over with. But now it has returned and the meds have not kicked in yet to knock my big ass out. I am tired of living with chronic physical pain all the time. It sucks the life out of you, what ever life is. And if it doesn’t, your mental illness will surely do it for you. There is no reprieve. No relief in sight. And that is why suicide is what it is. For people that survive it, they should be able to say that they have. But no one does. There are a few people that have been coming out slowly through the AAS blog but I fear that the ones that don’t come out, are the ones that will try again and maybe succeed.

I am a failure of suicide attempts. And because it has been so long since my last one I am not going to try again any time soon. Least for now. So I am in pain and I have one option left to me…to suffer.

My therapist

My therapist

I know a couple of my blogs have dealt with my therapist. Today she came back from her vacation and I could tell she is glad to be back.

We talked about a couple of issues while she was gone that I had texted her about. I had to keep her in the loop while she was away. I don’t know who else’s therapist does that but mine does.

Friday I was telling my psychiatrist that I was lucky to have her and not to have her drop me when she was going through all the moves that she was making. And also I didn’t connect with anyone while trying to find another therapist that was closer to me. My psychiatrist did bring up a point, that I didn’t drop either one (my therapist or my psychiatrist), though I did try to drop my therapist, many times. It just never worked out. And today I am seeing why. She really cares about me. And I think her hounding and nagging isn’t helping me. We talked about that today after she tried to assess my suicidality. I told her I was fine but she didn’t believe me. She never does. And it pisses me off because sometimes I really am fine.

I have known this bozo for the past 12.5 years (technically 13 if you count the initial session we had). I had an initial session with her in Aug 2000 but because she didn’t take my insurance, I had to wait till January to see her. It was a trying time. I was in severe back pain because I had a herniated disc. I was severely depressed because a therapist (one before her) had just left me after a year of working together and I was hurting really bad because I had just broken up with my girl friend. I was seriously thinking of killing myself because feelings of abandonment were rampant and I didn’t know if I wanted to go back to therapy again. I had so many therapists over the course of 10 yrs already and I wasn’t going to go again just to get hurt again. But something in her demeanor made me think that she was the one. And now after all this time, I realize that we have a lifetime commitment to one another (well, maybe not but it feels like it!)

I’ve had love and love’s had me
I’ve been held and been set free
And I have lived enough to know
That you might stay or you might go
So here I am one more time
Call me brave call me blind

I’m gonna count to 3
I’m gonna hold my breath
Try not to be afraid
Tho it scares me half to death
I’m out here on a limb
Altho I know that it might break
My heart is gonna want you anyway
And if this love has any chance at all
Someone’s gotta be the first to fall

The best is just a touch away
We’ll make forever day by day
It’d be a shame to let this go
How sad to think we’d never know
How the morning light would fall on us
After we make all night in love

I’m gonna count to 3
I’m gonna hold my breath
Try not to be afraid
Tho it scares me half to death
I’m out here on a limb
Altho I know that it might break
My heart is gonna want you anyway
And if this love has any chance at all
Someone’s gotta be the first to fall

So here I am one more time
Call me brave call me blind

I’m gonna count to 3
I’m gonna hold my breath
Try not to be afraid
Tho it scares me half to death
I’m out here on a limb
Altho I know that it might break
My heart is gonna want you anyway
And if this love has any chance at all
Someone’s gotta be the first to fall

When I first heard this song by Terri Clark, it was the perfect song for my therapist and I. I was just getting over my relationship with a previous therapist and I didn’t know if I would go on. I was going out on a limb, trying my luck with Bozo.

I didn’t always call Bozo bozo. I used to call her by her formal title Dr. E. But as the years went by she wanted me to call her by her first name, A. Her middle name starts with a B and I didn’t know it for the longest time. And it is an unusual name. So I just started calling her Bozo hoping that she would get mad at me and stop seeing me. Turned out that no matter what I called her (including some explicit language), it never changed her mind. And wasn’t I in trouble!! She and I always had a connection from day one. I like to think that it was the song by Kenny Chesney, you had me from hello that explains it all.

One word, that’s all you said
Something in your voice called me, turned my head
Your smile, just captured me
You were in my future as far as I could see
And I dont know how it happens, but it happens still
You asked me if I love you, if I always will

Well you had me from hello
I felt love start to grow
The moment I looked into your eyes you won me
It was over from the start you completely stole my heart
And now you won’t let go
I never even had a chance you know
You had me from hello

Inside I built a wall
So high around my heart, I thought I’d never fall
One touch, you brought it down
The bricks of my defenses scattered on the ground
And I swore to me I wasn’t going to love again
The last time was the last time I’d let someone in

But you had me from hello
I felt love start to grow
The moment I looked into your eyes you won me
It was over from the start you completely stole my heart
And now you wont let go
I never even had a chance you know
You had me from hello

Thats all you said
Something in your voice calls me, turns my head
You had me from hello
You had me from hello
Girl, I’ve loved you from hello

I don’t know how I got to be lucky to have this woman in my life and have such a good relationship with her. It took a long time to trust her especially after dealing with a diagnosis of Cauda Equina Syndrome. That diagnosis brings such a loss of dignity that you cannot imagine what it is like until it reaches you. But through all of my illnesses she has been there.

She doesn’t have a traditional track, like CBT or psychodynamic. She has what is called relational therapy. I am guessing she picked it up back in New Mexico because I can’t seem to find out about it anywhere else. More than that she takes the Aeschi model to a whole new level. She really wants to know me as a person and not as a diagnosis. I think if she were a strict therapist, I might not be with her after all this time. Even though I might not have frequent in session sessions, we still are able to read each other on the phone by the sound of our voices. I can see the faces she makes when we talk, though for a long time, I rarely had any type of facial contact. I think by having phone sessions has increased our eye to eye contact more than it has in the past. It really helped break the barrier of what I felt I couldn’t talk about and really talk about it. She also allows me to having input in the kind of treatment I want. If I didn’t bring in the works or Dr. Shneidman or Dr. Jobes, I doubt that I would be here today. She altered her practice style for me and I never take that for granted. Her style might be considered eccentric but it works for me. I am grateful that she allowed the use of the SSF and Holden’s scale for psychache into our work. I think even if I brought in the most ridiculous form of therapy, she might just be game. Though she has brought some ridiculous forms of therapy to me. The works of Janina Fisher seem a little bogus to me. But she believes in them so I have no chance of changing her mind. I met the lady and boy was it an eye opener to complete bullshit!!

weird dream

Today has been a quiet day for me. My only goal for the day was to go to the post office and mail a letter. It didn’t happen. I woke up in pain and been nursing my foot ever since. I woke up after having a disturbing dream. In the dream, I was being laughed at because of my pain. These two nurses or something similar I am not sure, were laughing because they couldn’t believe that my pain was so bad that it needed pain medication. So they laughed at me. Then when I was telling them I had nerve pain in the foot, they laughed harder. I was feeling sorry for myself in this dream and wondered if I am laughable. This pain has been going on for so long, I wonder if there is anything other than pain medication to help me anymore.

I fell back asleep only to find myself in another retarded dream. I got up but my foot was still hurting me. I then was extremely nauseous. I had to lie down and take my anti-nausea pill. I just couldn’t understand why I was so sick. I know it probably had to do with not eating anything all day and just taking my pain medication on an empty stomach. I just didn’t feel hungry today.

The earlier dream really got to me though. I know it was just a dream, that it wasn’t real. But it felt real. I don’t know why this dream struck a cord with me so much. It really got me thinking that this is how I perceive myself, as a laughing matter. Or maybe it is just that I don’t think people are believing me anymore when I tell them I have pain. I know my pain is real. It is incapacitating and debilitating. I can’t do anything, walk, go up stairs, stand, nothing that I used to do before. Funny (not ha ha) that I relearned to walk twice in my life and now I can’t enjoy it.

I know my therapist is going to ask me what do you think this means. I don’t know what it means really. It is just a dream in which I felt like I was a joke. That no one really believes I am in pain anymore and that I am ashamed of myself for some reason.

It’s a little after 0530 in the morning. I woke up around 0500. I was in a lot of pain. I didn’t dream I was in pain, I just woke up being in pain. My leg and my ankle were killing me. So I took some thing for it. I hate when I wake up in the wee hours of the morning. It usually means I am going to have a rough day. I am trying to stay awake for as long as possible so that I can maximize my sleep. Only trouble is that I have an appointment with my therapist at noon time so I can’t be totally asleep. I have my alarm set for 1015 to wake up. Now I am thinking that is too early as it will only give me about a 4 hour snooze, if I go to be within the next half hour. I haven’t had any weird dreams last night, least none that I can recall.

My one goal for the day is to mail my therapist’s packet of letters that I wrote her while she was on vacation. And if I am feeling up to it, to clean my car. I still have not done so all summer. I keep putting it off every day. I just don’t have the motivation to do it. I really need to take down the transponder for FastLane. I hope I can do it without breaking the windshield of my car. Once I get it cleaned out, I can call the junk service people and get it out of my hair. And hopefully, have some money in my pocket for a while.

I really hope that my therapist doesn’t read too much into my dream as I have. I still can’t get it out of my head. I have been trying to forget about it but it still there, and the feelings that are associated with it are too. I don’t know why my sisters were in the dream. They didn’t do anything to help with this stupid lady laughing at me. But it was just a dream. Just a dream.

pain and baseball

Game time is in a half hour from now. I don’t know if I am going to watch it. I have been in a blah-exhausted mood all day. I didn’t sleep too well last night as I woke up at three in the morning. Researchers are now saying that this is how people in the 1800s slept. They would sleep and then be up for a few hours in the wee hours of the morning and then go back to sleep. I don’t see how this was as most people got up at the crack of dawn to do farm work. I am usually going to bed at the crack of dawn. That seems to be my norm lately.

My writing buddy has completed her 100 pages for her new manuscript for the month. I have been her coach. Made me think that I should have some writing goals to do in order to get my book done. I just don’t know if I can be held accountable for it though. So I am going to try and write at least two pages in my book a day and see where that gets me at the end of September. Thing is this is hard. Writing about my past is harder than I thought it would be.

Tonight my brother in law’s brother came over for dinner. We get along pretty well and he asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was writing a book and he asked what was the subject matter. I wanted to tell him about suicide attempts but my family was there and I didn’t want to divulge this information. I have told people I am writing a book but no one has really asked what it was about. So I told him it was about my depressions and hospitalizations, which is essentially true. I just didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone that it is about my suicide attempts. I am publishing the book under my pen name.

I guess I could listen to the game, even though it might put me to sleep. I am so damn tired. I had to take a couple of pain pills because I took a shower and my ankle got angry at me. I couldn’t take the pain anymore. I have decided that any pain above a 6 on a scale of 1-10 is going to be medicated. I usually just take a pill if my pain is above a 8 but by then it becomes impossible to control, sometimes. I never know when the pain is going to increase or decrease. Tonight, I just decided I wasn’t going to wait around. I have been going up and down the stairs today so I know my pain is going to increase sometime tonight. I don’t know why I feel I have to justify taking my meds. It should be easy right? You are in pain so you take something for it. But I have voices in my head that doesn’t want me to take any pills so I have them bantering me all the time. Even when I take my regular psych meds they are always interested. Why am I taking it, am I taking the right dose, etc. I can’t stand it when I am hounded all the time every time I crack open a pill bottle.

I am listening to the game. I always know when Adrian Gonzalez is up. He fricken has the cuckaracha music. Drives me insane, most of the intro music for the Dodgers has been awful. All Latin music, which I do not like. And this jackass just hit a home run. On another baseball note, I got followed today by a Toronto Blue Jay. That has to be weird as I am a Red Sox fan. I don’t know why these people will follow me, but oh well. Long as they don’t cause trouble I let them be.