my suicidal career (short version)

My suicidal career:

I write about this not in the sense that Ronald Maris created it as that would be a completed suicide and I am not dead. But my relationship with suicide is a long one, from the time I was eight up until now. It is a struggle I deal with on a constant basis. It along with my depression makes life very unlivable for me. I often think about death in so many ways. I plan my death in so many ways yet I am unable to act on it.

When I was younger, I had no problem acting on my impulses to kill myself. But then protective factors such as my niece and nephew entered my life and I couldn’t bring myself to go ahead and kill myself. The loss was too great for them. I couldn’t imagine what my sister would say to these young kids who adored me. They were my saving grace whenever I had a bad day and really wanted to end my life.

Then chronic pain entered my life and made the balance of protective factors seem out of reach. I felt that I had to ignore them in order to let myself get into the suicidal mind frame to end my life. And I got there several times in the last few years. I had one friend call me every single day for a week until the storm had passed. I had therapy with my therapist several times a week. Nothing stopped the pain and the hurting that I was feeling. And when the pain got worse, so did the suicidal feelings. The feelings turned into plans that never were executed. This is the story of how it evolved and how a few suicide attempts lead to more hospitalizations than I can count.

I first thought about killing myself at the age of eight. I don’t remember the particulars but I thought it would be a grand idea not to be alive anymore. This got worse when I was nine. I really thought that ending my life was the answer to my problems. I hated myself because I felt like I was a burden to my family. I felt I had let them down somehow. I started planning my death at my birthday that year because I couldn’t stand the pain of living anymore. But for some reason, the age ten had a significance for my family and my mother was throwing a big party. I don’t know why she was throwing the party and making a big deal out of it but I figured I might as well stick around and see what I got. I was disappointed that I didn’t get a tape recorder that I wanted. I didn’t try to kill myself that year. But I did try later that year when I had an argument with my mother that now I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. I just told her I wish I was dead and went to my room to try and kill myself. I placed a pillow case over my head and prayed for death to come take me away. It didn’t work. The pillow case was too breathable. I was left crying in my room what seemed like hours. I don’t recall if my mother ever checked on me. I hated my life from then on. Suicide was always on the back burner for me.

This is a book detailing my career in suicide and the journey I went on to deal with it. There have been a couple of close calls but nothing recent, though I still feel the need to kill myself at times. But I do not act on my thoughts. I have attempted suicide many times and according to all the statistics, I should be dead. The one study that I often am in awe at is the one where they found that suicide attempt reactions often predicted future suicide deaths. I am in that category of not wanting to live yet I am still here. I am the outlier. And I hate being the outlier.

This story is my life that centers around my suicidality and the works that helped me get through it. Without finding the American Association of Suicidology, the works of Edwin Shneidman and David Jobes, I doubt I would still be around to talk about my life in this way. There are concepts of these people that I hope to explain in layman’s terms so people know about them because they have had a deep impact on trying to keep me alive.

The first is Edwin Shneidman’s conception of the word psychache. It is a word used to describe psychological pain which is defined as the combination of hopelessness, despair, loneliness, guilt, worthlessness, unbearable anguish, intolerable pain, and helplessness one feels when in deep despair. It is the pain one feels that is deep within you when contemplating your life. His other concept, the twenty frustrated needs is another brilliant sign of what constitutes suicide. They are:
ABATEMENT The need to submit passively; to belittle oneself
ACHIEVEMENT To accomplish something difficult; to overcome
AFFILIATION To adhere to a friend or group; to affiliate
AGGRESSION To overcome opposition forcefully; fight, attack
AUTONOMY To be independent and free; to shake off restraint
COUNTERACTION To make up for loss by retrieving; get even
DEFENDANCE To vindicate the self against criticism or blame
DEFERENCE To admire and support, praise emulate a superior
DOMINANCE To control, influence, and direct others; dominate
EXHIBITION To excite, fascinate, amuse, entertain others
HARMAVOIDANCE To avoid pain, injury, illness, and death
INVIOLACY To protect the self and one’s psychological space
NURTURANCE To feed, help console, protect, nurture another
ORDER To achieve organization and order among things and ideas
PLAY To act for fun; to seek pleasure for its own sake
REJECTION To exclude, banish, jilt, or expel another person
SENTIENCE To seek sensuous, creature-comfort experience
SHAME-AVOIDANCE To avoid humiliation and embarrassment
SUCCORANCE To have one’s needs gratified; to be loved
UNDERSTANDING To know answers; to know the hows and whys

When you have frustrated needs your thoughts of suicide go up. One feels the need to be loved and nurtured and when that doesn’t happen a certain loneliness occurs and it is painful. According to Shneidman, one must rank these needs so the final sum of all is 100. I have never been able to rank them but I find that these needs are important in everyday life. He got them from another psychologist, Henry Murray in his famous book explorations in personality. The theory is that frustrated needs are a causal factor in suicide. Decrease the frustration and reduce the suicide. Then you have the ten commonalities of suicide (suicidal mind):
I. The common purpose of suicide is to seek a
solution.
II. The common goal of suicide is cessation of
consciousness.
III. The common stimulus in suicide is intolerable
psychological pain.
IV. The common stressor in suicide is frustrated
psychological needs.
V. The common emotion in suicide is
hopelessness-helplessness.
VI. The common cognitive state in suicide is
ambivalence.
VII. The common perceptual state in suicide is
constriction.
VIII. The common action in suicide is egression.
IX. The common interpersonal act in suicide is
communication of intention.
X. The common consistency in suicide is with
lifelong coping patterns.
Within suicide you have a vocabulary of suicidal terms. The list is exhaustive but I have a few favorites:

Hopelessness, psychache, lethality, perceived burdensomeness, thwarted belongingness, press, perturbation, fearlessness and competence.

Perceived burdensomeness, fearlessness, competence, and thwarted belongingness are not Shneidman’s term but of another suicidologist Tom Joiner. I read his book why people die by suicide and found it fascinating. It really is a good read and helped me to understand my suicidality a little better.

Hopelessness, the feeling of being lost in hope, that nothing is ever going to change, that things will always be the same no matter what.
Psychache is defined as despair, intolerable anguish, hopelessness, guilt, worthlessness, and unbearable psychological pain one feels. It is like pain in the heart that no one else can feel. Your heart feels heavy and you feel like a burden because of it. Nothing soothes this pain. No medication can touch it. And suicide seems like the only answer for this type of pain and anguish.
Lethality, the degree to which someone is at risk for suicide. Whether it be a loaded gun or a few bottle of pills or some cuts on the wrist. This is what determines how suicidal a person is and how they are going to act. If the risk is high and eminent, involuntary hospitalization is called for. If the risk is low, then more contact is need and assessment at every visit.
Perceived burdensomeness, the idea that you are a burden to those around you but in reality you are not,
Thwarted belongingness, the idea that you don’t belong anywhere and feel the need to belong somewhere. It is a very awkward and lonely place that hurts very badly. Everyone wants to feel like they belong somewhere or to something and when that need is not met, they feel detached and alone.
Press, similar to stress. It is as if the building of the press is similar to the pressure of a volcano ready to explode. It can lead to further perturbation and make things worse.
Perturbation, the need to feel or do something to ease the pressure and anguish and despair they are feeling and to feel better. It can lead to want to do something but the idea is that you need to do something to relieve the pressure of the feelings on your chest.
Fearlessness, the absence of fear. In this regard, it means that people may be fearless when trying to take their life, like a type of Russian roulette.
Competence, the meaning is the level of competence to carry out the means for their suicidal plan. Examples include rope for hanging, gun handling and shooting, knowledge of drugs, etc. High competency is a high risk factor.

UGH..another plan down the drain

UGH For the first time in years, I am having a problem connecting to the internet at Starbucks! This sucks because I wanted to look up lyrics for my lyric book and hopefully work on my other book today. But now it looks like I will just work on my other book. And my blog.

I started thinking about what I was going to write. Last night I was too tired for the demons to come out. I actually thought I would be up will at least 2200 but I was a goner before that time. I was watching the movie Lincoln and really don’t know what time I passed out. The thing that sucked was that I woke up at 6:30 in the morning. I fell back to sleep after I had something to eat. Now I am having my coffee and I am contemplating what to have for lunch. I need to get some more Gatorade as I am running low. I have to take it with my meds as water sometimes causes some of the pills to dissolve quickly in my mouth and it is gross.

It is very difficult writing this book. I am all over the place with my thoughts. I still cannot connect to the internet while at Starbucks. I guess I will upload this when I get home.

I am feeling a little lost today. I was supposed to kill myself today. That was the plan for the longest time. And like I thought, I don’t feel like killing myself. But that doesn’t mean that I am not suicidal. I just feel like I let myself down, again. I don’t know why I bother saying I am going to kill myself if I am not going to go ahead with it. I think I am just the “cry wolf” so many times that I actually don’t think I am capable of killing myself despite coming up with elaborate plans to do so. All that planning has gone to waste. I find it depressing that I am not living yet I can’t die. I really wish my body would wake up and realize how dead I feel inside all the time. I can’t feel happiness. I can’t feel joy. All I feel is this emptiness inside that is killing me. I really feel that if my feelings were connected to my autonomic system, maybe I would have the chance of dying in my sleep.

I am fricken cold in the Starbucks today. I meant to bring a long sleeved t-shirt but I forgot it. I actually have no idea where my long sleeved t-shirts are. I think they are buried with my other winter clothes. I have an hour before the bus gets here. I just missed the one I could have taken but I really want to get a few pages of my book writing in.

I started re-reading the article on suicide reaction and it just further justifies the reasons why I should be dead and not living. I feel I have no future. I really thought I would be dead this weekend so I have stopped thinking about what the next few weeks will bring. Or months.

My writing friend has come up with giving rewards for writing as an incentive. My gift to myself this month is getting Luke Bryan’s new CD. And possibly Keith Urban’s new one as well. It all depends on what is left over after I pay my bills for the month. I hate budgeting. I feel like I need to get a job just to have spending money for the month. But as long as I am still owing money for my LTD, I can’t get a job. This so sucks. I don’t even know if I will be able to find a job. I have been out of work for a year now and even though I kind of like my new routine, it is pretty boring. My only respite is getting out for coffee each day, other than going out for doctors appointments. I just don’t know if I can handle the challenge of working again. I am so fearful that mentally I will have a breakdown because it will be too stressful or that the voices will be too much and I will have to quit. I really would love to work for Starbucks but I am not sure I can stand for eight hours or more. I know that I won’t be able to do stock because I can’t lift anything heavier than fifteen pounds. And I can’t bend over because of my back issues. I really just need a desk job but then I worry that I will have lose my insurance. I know I will lose it once the LTD stops. I will then have to go on the state plan and hope that my primary doc accepts it. I don’t know if I will have to pay for it. I hope I don’t because I am on disability. I also have been thinking of applying for food stamps because I can’t afford food shopping in my budget right now. I have been living off whatever my mother cooks and buys but it would be nice to have my own food, which she doesn’t like. Granted I buy the cold cuts that are “expensive” but it is what I like. Boar’s Head is not cheap but it is so good. I also like getting the PF Chang Chinese frozen dinners that you just heat up on the stove. Again my mother doesn’t like this but I do. It beats buying $20 (USD) of take out Chinese but the down side is no appetizers. But this month I plan on treating myself to Chinese because I didn’t kill myself. I think that is a good enough reason…

Chronic Pain and Living

I have tried to take my life several times over the years. Currently, I am struggling with the difficulties of trying to stay alive. I keep coming up with plans to end my life. I give myself a date and when that day comes, I plan on ending it. This has been going on for a few years now. My therapist has been able to stop the constriction by telling me how my family will feel and how she will feel if I go ahead and take my life. I can’t help making these plans.

I have been depressed for as long as I can remember. I recently been trying to get at the “root” of my suicidality but the feelings evade me. I just know that between the ages of 5 and 8 something happened that made me want to take my life. And by age 10 I tried by putting a pillow case over my head. No one knew about this. I told my mother right before putting the pillow case I was going to kill myself but she did nothing. My confidence in her dwindled that day. I felt I could no longer trust her.

Five years later I am a freshman in high school and my parents had started World War III. They broke up and so did my wrist. I started cutting to relieve the pressure and pain. I used cutting to relieve the psychological pain that I was feel and it became my friend over the next seven or so years. Sixteen I was hospitalized and everyone found out about the voices. That was tough. I had wanted to join the military to get away from my family but having a psychotic diagnosis, I knew that I never would pass their tests. My career was over before it started and I fell into a worse depression. I kept on getting rehospitalized, like every three months, because I just couldn’t handle my life. I was getting worse and the suicidality was getting better. I kept on thinking that I was the end.

As I suffer from delusions and psychosis, two years ago, I had a funny thing happen. I had the delusion and voice of Allah tell me that I should sacrifice myself so that the war in Afgan would stop. As you probably could tell, I was off my meds again. My psychiatrist doesn’t think that I should be on them all the time because of the side effects. I had to re-start taking them because I was the sacrificial lamb and I believed all this earnestly. Allah was talking to me and I was the cause of the war of Afganistan. The only way to stop the war was to stop my life. So again I planned another scheme to end my life. Only this time, like before, my therapist stopped me. I tried very hard to get her to see that it had to be done and to think of all the soldiers I would save by ending my life. It seemed like a good win win. Sacrifice one life so all could be saved. Isn’t that what the military does? Allah was not too happy when I started again on my meds. He was very angry. And he also wanted me to end my life anyway because it was better than taking medication. I agreed with him on this but I couldn’t end my life. By this time I was back in the hospital. I was still delusional, thinking I was still the “one” to save it all. But as the medication started working, the delusions dropped and I began to see more clearly. The voices went away except for my regular voices that I hear all the time.

Since that time, a lot has changed for me. I have become disabled and am in chronic physical pain. I now too have a plan on killing myself and it is to happen some time this year. I have had enough. No pill can adequately control my pain and it is a tough position to live in. I have a condition known as Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). It is a neurological disorder in which the nerves are out of whack and no one really knows the cause. I was “lucky” in that I had nerve damage already to my ankle and then when I sprained it, twice, I think it allowed the nerve damage to spread. Of course I also don’t walk correctly. I can stand here and give a lecture about pain and suicidal but I am afraid it will fall on deaf ears or not really reach the people it needs to reach. I wish you could say that you can live your life with chronic pain but I would be lying. There was a time when I was able to. I had adequate pain control and could work a full time job. That ended when instead of being placed on a regular psych unit, I was placed in a detox unit and my pain medication was stopped. Since that time in 2002, I have not had adequate pain control and I am afraid to ask. I have my pain meds but it only treats the physical type of pain that I experience. It doesn’t help with the burning sensation or the other electrical type pain that I experience. And nothing helps these types of pain. No cream or pain gel works. It might be enough to take the edge off so I can sleep but I am always in a 3-4 state of pain every single day and when my activity goes up, showering, getting dressed, walking to the bus stop or standing while waiting for the bus, then the pain also goes up. Sometimes all it takes is my moving my big toe and I am in pain. And with each episode, I think about death. I plan it, I imagine it, I dream of it. I no longer am able to work because I can’t walk more than 300 ft. I can’t lift things greater than 10 lbs. I can’t stand more than 20 minutes. And I am only 37. I got this horrendous condition when I was 25. It was a long battle and I wish that I could say that not working is helping me. In some ways it does. It helps me to write and distress. My voices are at a lower key than they were when I had a job. I don’t have the delusions as much. I just am constantly suicidal. And maybe one day I will. But as one of the bloggers Toni has written, “I am not living and I can’t die”.

self hate

dec 18, 2012
I don’t think that my life has meaning anymore. I’m just here so other people won’t be sad. I have many issues that cause me to be suicidal. Chief being that I hate myself. I hate my external and internal self. I am the scum of the universe. I am so convinced of that.
I hate myself internally because I am not a male. I hate having ovaries and a uterus, not to mention breasts. I hate myself, actually loathe is more like it because I have breasts. I hate being a woman more than anything.
I hate having a chest and having to wear baggy clothes to hide them. It would kill me if I had to wear a bra. I know it would. No one ever asked me how I feel about myself except for my therapist. She’s trying to get me to talk to TG people but I’m scared. What if they just think I’m crazy? I wish I could slash my wrist severely to end my life or stab my chest so I could cut out the heartache of living with so much pain of not being in the right body. My luck I will just stab a breast and cause minimal damage.
Writing about this makes it seem fake. I really feel like I’m writing about nothing. I know that things will never change, that I’m never going to be a male. I’ll always have the bone structure of a female and that is what is killing me inside. No matter if I change my outward appearance, I still will be classified as a female.
I’ve decided not to shave my facial hair for a while. See if anyone notices or cares. I’m tired of shaving it but sometimes I do like to shave it. I just want to see how long it can get it to grow.