Tag: suicide writing

my thoughts for the day

by Midnight Demon, posted in Chronic pain, depression, mental disorders, psychache, suicide, suicide attempt, transgender

Today was a snow day. I didn’t go out because it was plain yucky out with freezing sleet and rain at times. I have to go out tomorrow so that will be better. I plan on taking a shower tonight so I don’t have to take one in the morning. Sometimes a shower can exhaust me so it is kind of good that I take it at night.

I started writing another paper on suicide. I don’t know where it is going but I decided to define some terms that I think will be valuable and then take it from there. I have to remember to put in copyright at the end of the paper so no one steals my work. I know it could be “stolen” anyways or parts of it very easily with copy and paste, but at least with the copyright it might prevent that from happening.

I made some progress with one of my characters with my game that I play. I am glad I did cause I didn’t think I could as I don’t play it very often. I have three Facebook accounts for this game so I can get the stuff I need to play. Between the four accounts, I use it to advance in the game as best I can. Course I have other player that help out too, but not so much for my other accounts.

Because today was a snow day, I didn’t have therapy this afternoon. I am glad because I was already in a bad mood this morning. I really wanted to go out today but I couldn’t because of the snow. Hopefully tomorrow I will be able to get to McD’s and get a cheeseburger. I have been thinking of it every time it comes on the radio. I know they are bad for you and everything but they just taste so good.

I tried working on my book today but that didn’t happen. I need a break from it for a little while. It is stirring up too much stuff.

I don’t really want to go to group tomorrow. I just feel like I opened up tomorrow and I need more time to process what I said. I just feel really terrible that I talked about transgender and didn’t get a trip to the hospital. It was really weird. I thought I would go in the hospital because people don’t talk about it. My therapist was telling me that Kelly Curic had done a segment on kids that were transgender. That is all well and good but I didn’t have that growing up. I couldn’t express my feelings because it meant I would get smacked in the mouth. Nor did I have the words for what I was going through. I just knew that I was a guy at a young age but I was forced to conform to being the sex I was born with. I had to act like a girl. I couldn’t play sports I wanted to. I couldn’t wear the clothes I wanted to. I couldn’t even wear a baseball hat. My father threatened to cut them all up if he saw me wearing one. So I couldn’t be who I really am without having physical violence with my parents. It killed me whenever he threatened to destroy my property. I just wanted to die all the more. I figured what would be the point in living if I couldn’t be who I was. I envy the kids today that are getting the support and transitioning that they are doing. I wish I had that growing up.

finding comfort in a bell jar

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

I am reading A. Alvarez’s A savage God. I have just read the part where Plath finds comfort in Lowell’s pain of losing his mind. Isn’t that the essence of mental illness, taking comfort in another’s pain? I do not mean that we wish each other harm, just that it is comforting to know that we are not the only ones that are suffering so.

Lowell had talked about his breakdowns and subsequent hospitalizations which lead to my current one just a few weeks ago.  No one really knows that I was again hospitalized because I have not really told anyone other than those close to me. No one would suspect that I have been. I had been psychotic the past few weeks and now that I am on meds I am “well again”.  I am reading Plath and how every decade she attempted suicide doesn’t bode well inside of me. I have yet to attempt anything in over a decade now and I feel that the longer I wait, the longer and more fruitful it will be for soon no one with suspect that I have thought such things. No one will suspect that my depression has gone astray, that it has gone away and I am well now. But physical pain is more of a reality than my psychache is these days.