Tag: suicidality

just the beginning

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression, mood disorders, suicide

I did it. I made it to 3000 words on my short story that I am hoping to publish before my book. I have been working on it slowly as this depression just sucks. Words don’t flow the way they used to. Thinks are slower. My brain moves slower. When other people used to describe this, I thought thank god I don’t have that problem but now I do. I guess it’s because I am a writer that I notice it more? I don’t know. It is just so frustrating. It is literally like extracting teeth or something. I just find it awful to go through this.

I took the Remeron last night in the hopes of sleeping till eight. No such luck. I slept till six. And there was no way I was starting my day at six with my father’s doctor’s appointment at one. That would cause me too much anxiety. So I took some Ativan and slept till eight. I made my breakfast as I was starving and then went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I took a draining shower that sucked all the energy from me. I swear if I didn’t have to go out, I would have put my PJs back on and gone right to bed. I was completely worn out. JUST FROM TAKING A SHOWER!! I was really pissed. But I waited until I cooled off, then put some clothes on and caught the next bus. I went to Starbucks and had a latte. Then I got hungry so I got something to eat. I knew it would be awhile till I ate next. Went to the hospital early and waited for my father. The appointment went fast. There were no new developments, other than the abdominal fluids. But I was shocked to learn he still had cancer all this time. I thought the tumors were gone and he was cancer free. Not fucking so. I hate these doctors but they are the best in the field of GI cancers so I can’t really drop them.

Now I have the task of relaying all this information to my family members, immediate and not so immediate. I really don’t want to tell my cousin. She is a little hot headed but I know if I don’t tell her, the next time she sees me she might cause a scene. I don’t know what to do because I don’t know what she knows. I don’t want to say the C word if she doesn’t know my father had C to begin with. UGH I am so stressed out and this is just the beginning.

I am just exhausted. I am also anxious. I don’t have a great relationship with my father but I still care for him on a humanitarian level, otherwise I doubt I would care at all. Maybe one blog I will divulge the family secrets but not today. Dealing with him while he is sick is one thing I can’t stand to see as he has always been so healthy. He hasn’t been a health freak or anything of the nature but his genes has long lines. But I don’t want to lose him. I may think of him as a sperm donor at times, but he is still my father none the less.

I hope to talk to a blogger friend tonight. Our chats are really random but she makes me laugh and we forget about life for a while, which I think is good for both of us. I sure can use it tonight.

i don’t feel anguish

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, depression

Been thinking about how I am not feeling suicidal every day anymore. It is weird. I don’t know exactly what I feel. I feel sort of numb but also feel contentment. And the strange part is that I haven’t take a drug to make me feel this way. I just feel differently about my life. I am not saying I have a future because I don’t. Trying to see a future is still dark and gray. But today and tomorrow don’t look as bad as they once did. Maybe the stress of not working is a good thing. But I am still isolated in what I am doing. I still wish I was dead but it’s not as strong as it was.

I don’t know when the change occurred. And that’s what bothers me because I can go back to my depressed suicidal self at any time. I think I’ve given up on killing myself because I can’t go through with it. IF I could do it tomorrow, I would but I can’t. Is it possible to be suicidal without feeling it. I’m just numb all the time. I don’t know if that is good or bad.

To go from feeling suicidal all the time to nothing is a very scary place for me. Sure if given the chance, I might kill myself. But I don’t want to. Yet I don’t want to live either. I just go on being. I wouldn’t call this living. Being trapped in my room is not living. I barely go out anymore, not even for a mocha or latte. I have lost interest in things. I don’t watch TV anymore yet I record my shows. My DVR is most likely full right now and I don’t care. I still have to transfer the world Series to my computer and have not done so yet. I could careless right now about it.

I am in a constant depressed state yet I don’t show it. I would love to run a knife through my chest to try and kill myself but my family needs me too much. I don’t want them cleaning up the mess. I don’t feel distressed. I don’t feel anguish. I just want to die. I want to stop breathing air. But then I will hear my favorite song on my playlist and it will get me out of the funk that I am in and make me sing and smile. Everyday is a struggle. Sometimes I don’t listen to music. But today I need to to break the monotony in my brain. I have noticed that my typing and thoughts are slow today. It is painful writing this experience down. Every word is like pulling a tooth out. But I think it is important to write about this experience because I may not feel like this again. The darkness doesn’t rule my heart but neither does the light. I am just trying to keep my heart on the tracks. I sometimes get derailed and it hurts.

a little of this and that and transgender too

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, depression, suicidality, transgender

Had a horrible day. Spent the entire late morning/afternoon at the hospital with my dad. They still have no idea what is wrong with him and it is starting to piss me off. I feel like my father is living my life in the “I don’t know what is wrong with you” circle. He had some scans done and we will be back next week to find out the results of those scans. Just lovely. Another day of boredom. I will be bringing my laptop and my manuscript so I will have something to work on while waiting for the doc.

I got to talk to my cousin today. Found out my aunt’s wake is tomorrow and the funeral is Saturday. Not looking forward to it but you have to show up and pay respect and say goodbye. It’s going to be a sad day for me.

I am pretty exhausted from today and in pain. I was in pain most of the day yesterday so all I did was sleep most of the day and then be up most of the night. I rather sleep during the day and be up all night. I miss working second shift. It was the perfect balance of not being a day person and being a night person.

I talked with my therapist for the last time this week and she is on vacation next week because it’s school vacation. We talked about my book and how it is affecting me and then she wanted to know more about the voices and I flipped out a little. I couldn’t tell her but did tell her that the voice I hear is actually her, well, not really her but her persona or something. I can’t explain it. It is just something that happens to me. I hear a voice and it will get stuck in my head and start talking to me is the best way to put it. That is why sometimes songs get their go around in my head and I can’t stop it unless I take medication. I had this one voice last summer that just wanted to talk to me at night, just before sleeping. And boy, was she demanding. I would nod off and she would get all offended. And the more sleepy I was, the more she would ask questions! So annoying! I am glad she is gone and hope she doesn’t come back!

I have to get dressed up tomorrow. I hate getting dressed up. I don’t have clothes that fit me anymore except for one pair of pants. And it is going to be cold so I have to wear a long sleeved shirt, which because I gained weight, I have only one that fits. If I didn’t have breasts, I would be fine. Things would fit nicely. Pisses me off that I have them. But then I will never be a “guy”. Just in my head I will be one. To the rest of the world I am a FEMALE, like it says on my medicare card I got the other day. How degrading. I could have killed myself over it. But I guess I am getting better at living this double life, even if it is painful. I recently heard that Facebook has changed gender roles. I wonder what that is about. I haven’t looked at it because in my mind you are either a female or a male. I am a male, but in a female’s body. So, yea, I kind of get the confusion. UGH. This sucks. If only we were to choose what we wanted to be at the age of five none of this identity confusion would exist. Just because you are born one way doesn’t mean you are truly that way. Now I feel suicidal because I hate myself so much. I can’t stand myself. I am despicable.

suicide attempt survivor, some thoughts

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, suicide attempt, suicide attempt survivor

Today I wrote to my writing friend to ask for her help in getting someone to read my book just to see if it was ok or mediocre or sucks. I got a couple of people so that made my day. Then I started thinking of how she phrased the request. I know she used the term “suicide attempt survivor”. She uses that term whenever she refers to me. Every time I hear it, I can’t help but feel embarrassed, ashamed, and labeled. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I am hurt. I am not. I just feel weird being called such a term when I don’t feel like a survivor at all. I feel like I am a dead weight, much like a bookend.

I know she means well and I have not told her how I feel because I am not sure how to approach it. Most survivors that write on the AAS blog feel empowered and most like me don’t want to live life but have to. Others feel like their attempt was a blessing and they are happy they survived it. I don’t feel that way. I just feel like I should be dead, pushing up daisies or dandelions or something. I honestly have no jest for living but I just go on because I feel like I have to. Yet sometimes, I feel like I have to die, like it is my only way out of the situation I am in. I am lucky I have a good therapist that wants me here no matter what. Even though the voices in my head are against her right now, I am glad she is here to tell me that I have to go on, if only to publish my book. But what then? What do I do then when my feelings and life story are out in the world, much like this blog? I still have feelings of suicide and I guess I always will. You can throw away these feeling you have been having for more than thirty years.

But why do I feel embarrassed by this term? Why do I feel labeled? It is, after all, an accurate description. I have survived multiple suicide attempts, one that was medically serious enough to land me on a medical floor in the hospital. Yet despite all these tries, I survived them. I lived through them. So why do I feel like I can’t call myself a suicide attempt survivor?? Or do I need to? There is a growing awareness in the suicidology field that want to hear these people stories. Sure, they are rich for research purposes to help prevent more suicides. Once you attempt suicide, you are at risk for life of doing so again, no pun intended. Others are just curious because they find that taking your life is so unphathomable. I find this interesting. That there are people out there that cannot understand why someone would want to take their life. I feel bad for these people because they have never known hardship or mental illness. Yet even those with hardship never think of killing of themselves. I guess I am just one of the ones that do. I come from a poor background. I paid my way through college though I never did finish my degree because my mental illness got in the way. I have more W’s on my transcript than grades. Yet I still want to finish my degree at the same institution one day, if they will take me back. I do have that hope. I don’t know if it is realistic or not. Only time will tell. I am getting older without realizing it and this troubles me. I never dreamed of living to be in my thirties, yet I am. I have good genes on both sides of my family so I know if I don’t kill myself, I will live to the eighties or nineties. I don’t want this to happen. I don’t want to grow old. It is something that I never wanted to have happen. But I can’t stop time. My birthday comes whether I like it or not, most times not. Every year I think of it as my last. I have no future that I can see. So am I really a survivor?