Tag: suicide attempt

ramble 56

by Midnight Demon, posted in blogging, chronic physical pain, depression, mood disorders, suicide

Tonight will be the first week without baseball. I already miss it. I know it will be back in 90 days or so. But how can you go from watching 170 or so games to none? The experience is depressing.

I tried my hand at editing again today. It made me depressed reading my life and what I wrote. So I deleted a lot. I know it was probably wrong but oh well. And then I came to a part that made no sense what so ever. It was like some blogs got smooched together or something and that is probably what happened. So more editing is in my future. But I am glad I got some of it done today. I am thinking of adding the blog I wrote the other day, hodgepodge of blogs, to the book. It has helped so many people in my blog and the AAS so I feel that it is necessary to get the word out. Think I will put it in where I emptied all the other junk.

I keep having dreams that my book is going to be super successful and then I have moments, like now, that feel that it is going to be a flop. I might be ok for the first few months but I don’t think it will after that. Oh author’s doubt is high today.

My suicidality is a little lower today. I am still angry at my therapist and appreciate the feedback I got back on it. Maybe on of these days I will stay on the national hotline long enough to see if they will help me. Samaritans doesn’t seem to keep you on the phone that long. Course the last time I called was years ago, though I have called the National Hotline (800-255-TALK) a couple of times. The hard part is waiting on the line when you want someone to pick up. I guess they are routing your call to the nearest call center or something but it still sucks. I found that texting is better. There is a text number 20121 and you just text 121help. I find that better than talking to someone sometimes. Most of the times I just talk to my blogger friend or another friend or blog. Blogging has been the most helpful to me because I get to express what ever I want to say without being judged by anyone. I might not get any likes or comments or both but least my thoughts are out there. Sometimes it helps someone because they are going through the same thing. There are days I don’t get a response to something but then I do and it validates what I feel. And I think that is the important thing.

My pain levels are scattered today. I woke up with my left calf muscle feeling tight. No matter how many times I tried to stretch it today it just won’t get lose. I should try a hot pack on it or something. I plan on kneading it later. Sometimes it is tight because I have little knots in it.

it doesn’t take too much to be overwhelmed

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

****WARNING MIGHT BE TRIGGERING****

I didn’t mean to start off the day like this, I don’t think anyone does. But I am feeling miserable and when I am miserable I write. This darkness has invaded my soul. I am no longer a good person but just an empty shell off what was, if that makes sense. I haven’t had coffee and wouldn’t you know it, I forgot to order cream with my groceries? Figures. Guess no coffee today, unless I go to Walgreens and buy it when I pick up my prescription. I also need a case of water. I need to try and keep myself hydrated which I have not been too successful at, if my lips are any indication. My lips are wicked dry and chapped, like a desert. I never made my chamomile tea last night. I got too sleepy and wanted to stay in my nice cozy bed. I will have to change the sheets after I take a shower. It is going to suck as I hate changing sheets but if I smell, I know my sheets do, too. I don’t know why everything has to be a struggle. I am struggling to stay alive. Struggling to do normal living activities. It is just so overwhelming. I hate being overwhelmed. But then, it doesn’t take much to become overwhelmed.

I had my therapy session tonight with my pain in the ass therapist. It’s funny but today I was reminded that even though we have been working together for years and years she still fricken panics whenever I get into a suicidal state. It’s like the blog I wrote a few months ago, Mentioning of suicide, therapist panics. Instead of asking me what my story was that went behind my suicidal reasoning, she didn’t want to hear it. She just wanted to listen to my reasons for living, my reasons for dying, and what I was going to do to get me through the next four days until we talked again. It is the SAME THING every single time. Nothing changes. I can hear the panic in her voice soon as I divulge my plan. It’s like she cannot tolerate listening to it. I don’t know why it is. It makes me feel better talking about it. But she doesn’t want to hear it so I don’t speak of it. I keep it inside and I think that is where Mr. Hyde is born. Mr. Hyde is my suicidal part that like to come out and write suicidal notes.

Tonight I was reminded that my therapist is not Aeschi in the least because I scare her. I don’t mean to scare her. That is not my intention. But my suicidality freaks her out. I only have a voice here on my blog to talk about my suicidal plans and thoughts and feelings. You would think, that a therapist office would be the place to divulge this information but it is not. It freaks them out too much. Maybe that is why there are so many suicides. The talking about suicide doesn’t get talked about so the client feels more alone than they already feel. I think that if I was a therapist, I would want to know my client’s thinking about suicide and why he wanted to throw himself out the window. Maybe in talking about it, there would be some underlying thought process that could be explored and then, maybe the feelings wouldn’t be so intense. But my therapist doesn’t want to hear about it. She wants to know where it hurts but not really. It is too scary for her. Where it hurts is where I want to put the rope around my neck. Where it hurts is where I am hopefully dangling out my bedroom window. I want to know what it feels like to lose the oxygen to my brain and lose consciousness permanently. But no one wants to hear that part. She just wants to know that if I want to act, I will call her first or someone else or go to the ER. Those places will not help me. They do not want to hear my story. They do not want to hear my plan or know of my pain. They will just hear that I am suicidal and should be in a safe place for a few days and hopefully in those few days I won’t be suicidal anymore, like it’s a magic cure. They do not want to know the depth of my sadness, the depth of my pain, the depth of my intolerable despair that has come upon me with its unrelenting hold around my throat. I am being suffocated. And no one can see it. No one can bare it. So I say what is expected of me and move on to another session where the same things go on. I am not saying my therapist is a failure. She is not. She is just a person who panics with the mention of suicide like the rest of the world.

a hodgepodge of blogs

by Midnight Demon, posted in depression, mood disorders, psychache, suicide, suicide attempt

I am feeling a little lost. I was supposed to kill myself today. That was the plan for the longest time. But then I thought, “I don’t feel like killing myself.” That doesn’t mean I’m 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’m not going to go ahead with it. I’ve “cried wolf” so many times that I actually think I’m not capable of killing myself, despite coming up with elaborate plans to do so. I really wish my body would wake up and realize how dead I feel inside.

Ever since I read an article about the reactions of people who survive suicide attempts, I’ve been thinking about this. I am a multi-attempt survivor. Maybe my ratio of reasons to live vs. reasons to die is not high enough, or maybe I suck at trying to kill myself. Maybe I’m not meant to die, my time truly has not come, but I digress. There were nights I hated myself for surviving my attempts, and I still do.

Suicide attempters can be a challenge to clinicians. How to deal with this population that is at risk for attempting again? Research suggests that asking how they feel about their attempt is useful. A 2005 study by Gregg Henriques, and others found that people who were glad to be alive or were ambivalent did not go on to kill themselves, while those who felt they intended to die were 2.5 times more likely to end their life later. This could explain why some people attempt suicide once and never do it again, and why some people continue to try.
I was not glad that I survived. I was not feeling ambivalent. But I think some people do have these feelings, and they go on living. Yes, they have attempted, but it brought the realization that they were glad they survived. It’s something I have never experienced.
Reactions to how an attempter feels afterward can be an important clinical assessment. If we ask how people felt when they first survived, we might find a clue and prevent another attempt.

My therapist and I have tried to work on what to do if “Mr. Hyde” shows up while she is on vacation. But the thing is, I don’t feel the need to ask for help. I go about my business like I normally do, except that I write dark stuff and plan the end of my life. I am beyond hopeless, so what would be the point of reaching out? All I need is a pad and pen or my laptop, and I’m good. I express all the dark stuff on paper, or I send messages to people I care about, telling them I love them and that I will be in a better place. It seems normal to me, but I know it’s not normal when I wake up from this dream/dissociative state. The yellow legal pad, or the messages I get in the morning, remind me it wasn’t a dream. That I wasn’t in my “right” mind at all.

I think the stigma around suicide needs to change. People need to be able to think about suicide like they do vanilla ice cream. They like it or they hate it, but vanilla ice cream is still going to be around. As long as there are conscious people, there is going to be suicide. It might be by like people like me who are in chronic pain and suffering from depression. It might be by people who have voices telling them they should not be around anymore. But I do know that people should listen to the person who is bringing up thoughts of death or thoughts of killing themselves or harming themselves. The stigma needs to stop. The hurting needs to stop. I hope that people will read this and know they are not alone. The feeling of being able to talk about this openly needs to spread. Too many people feel they are crazy, and they don’t need to feel that way. Too many people seek help and are turned away because they have suicidal thoughts and need help. They just need an understanding ear and an open mind.

So the next time someone is thinking about death or thinking about killing themselves, I hope you ask them why, and listen. Because hearing their story is going to be the deciding factor for whether that person lives or dies.
My therapist often asks me how I get through this. There is a quote that I got from one of Kay Redfield Jamison’s books: “Only one option left, to suffer.” She is my inspiration, as she has bipolar disorder, tried to kill herself and is one of the leading researchers of the disorder.

I know it sucks, but the trick is to realize that when we feel this way, it is not our true selves. It’s the disorder talking. One reason why I’ve read so much about depression _ and there are a lot of good books out there, _ is that you have to know the disorder, understand it, before you can know what to do. Sometimes knowing the demons is better than not knowing them. I know that it isn’t always easy when our physical bodies wreck our lives and we have physical pain that drives us insane. But things aren’t always going to be this way. It doesn’t last. Eventually it lifts. The hardest part of this disorder is that we forget that we have survived the worst of it. Every time we are stuck in an episode, we think it’s for the first time, that we are never going to feel better, ever.

I am telling you that you are.

this is the story of my pathetic life with depression and chronic physical pain

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, chronic physical pain, depression, suicide

I had a very distressing session with my therapist. She was all freaked out that I had thought of a clever plan to end my life. She didn’t like it one bit to say the least and I get another session tomorrow. OH JOY. I don’t think I can contain myself, not!

I started reading her the post I wrote yesterday. I think I might have gotten through the second paragraph crying and then I couldn’t finish reading it as I was sobbing so much. Funny how I didn’t cry when I wrote it. Weird, actually. I guess what I write does have feelings even if I am unaware of them.

I didn’t get back to my writing friend yesterday. I was too exhausted and drugged up to write an email. I don’t even know how I mustered up the blog. I didn’t write the blog in word like I usually do. It makes it easier in case there is a glitch somewhere and I don’t have to start over because of it.

I went out today but I didn’t shower or brush my teeth. I just threw some clothes on and waited for the bus. I wanted a cheeseburger really bad so went to the Joshua Tree and they had one with avocado! I loved it. I didn’t like the fries. They were way too oily. But the burger was everything I was looking for even though my taste buds didn’t appreciate it. It will sustain me for a day or so. I don’t think I will eat anything else today. I had my coffee that tasted like shit. I drank half of it and threw it away. I felt bad doing it but I knew that if I tried to finish it, it would come back up on me. As you can probably tell, I haven’t been eating or drinking good. I planned on buying a case of water for my room but forgot. I know I am dehydrated because my lips are severely chapped. I just can’t keep up with the fluids. And besides, more fluids means more leak accidents. I rather stay retentant.

I am craving a cup of chamomile tea so I might make that later. I really feel like I am stuck in a mudslide or cement or something similar. It take me forever to walk places. I feel like everything is uphill even if it is not. I don’t get out of breath or anything like that. It is just a struggle to walk, even with the pain I have been having.

I feel rotten that I can’t try my plan to kill myself today. I know now that it probably would not be a great idea. My bed would probably try to come with me even though it weighs more than I do but who knows. I am bad with physics and things and would probably end up strangling myself just enough to lose consciousness and someone to find me in time.

Because I am still going to be here thanks to my terrible therapist, I ordered my groceries to be delivered tomorrow. They are going to come between 730 and 930. Are they for real?? UGH Nothing like waking up early sitting around waiting. But then I can have my nice cold cut sandwich with bakery bread, pickles and chips! Damn I forgot to buy soda! Oh well. I don’t need the calories anyways.

So this is the story of my pathetic life with depression and chronic physical pain.