Tag: suicide

melancholy

by Midnight Demon, posted in suicide

Today I didn’t do too much but I did a lot. As I was walking home my ankle decided it had enough and I was limping on the way home. The last block and a half was really long!

I still am in a melancholy of spirits. I just can’t believe my city was under attack and then a Federal courthouse today had to be evacuated because of a bomb threat. And the President of the US is coming to tomorrow. I think that is a BIG mistake as we still have not capture the individual(s) responsible for the Marathon explosions. That is what they are calling it, explosions, not bombs. I guess explosions are less scary to think about but not really. It still is terrifying.

Ankle is still killing me and I am going to bed early, not going to watch the Sox game tonight. I don’t think it is on NESN anyways because the Bruins are playing. I don’t think I have NESN+. Shame too because last I heard, the Sox were winning 3-0. But then they don’t have a good match-up. The Indians stink. There were hardly any fans in the stadium last night. Pretty sad. I hope Fenway never gets that way.

I printed off my story that I am writing about my past suicide attempts and also my write up for my next blog post in the AAS. I am confident it will be a good paper. I just need to go over it somewhat to make sure I have the facts straight. It gives me something to do tomorrow that hopefully doesn’t have me going out. I am pretty tired today from my excursions yesterday and today. I only went out because my stupid printer wouldn’t recognize the color cartridge as being full. I have not used my printer for a couple of months now. Even though I just wanted to print black, it would not let me override the stupid color sensor thingy. I was so frustrated. I think paying for printing my stuff at UPS is cheaper than buying ink for this ridiculous printer that uses ink while not in use! Either that, or the ink got dried up because of the heat in the room. It is a small office I have and my mother keeps the door closed most of the time. I have to bring the printer to my room but I am too lazy. Maybe tomorrow I will do that, if my ankle isn’t hurting like it is now.

So I have printed off my writing to edit it. I have my red pen ready. But one thing I know while I edit my paper, I always want to add to it or take something away. I hate editing. I’m good with other people’s paper’s but not my own!

I woke up this morning and wondered what it would be like not to be anymore. I haven’t woken up like that in a long time. I guess the melancholy I am feeling is having suicidal effect on me, not to say that I wasn’t suicidal before. I just had a decrease in thoughts the past couple of weeks and thought I was getting better. Now I think I am heading back towards being a suicidal maniac who thinks of suicide all the time. I don’t know why I do other than I don’t want to feel pain, physical or mental anymore. I am tired of always being in a state of despair, of feeling nothing is going right for me. I just calculated my financial picture for the month and found that if I pay everything, I will have 7 dollars (USD) to my name to last me until my next check. I hate feeling like I am in destitution again. I really do. It’s like why bother getting paid when I don’t see my money. It just goes out the window to pay my bills and to help my mother keep up with the household bills, like gas and electricity, not to mention the mortgage. I just hate not being able to work. It is so frustrating. And yet, if I was working, I’d lose my LTD and have to work out something to pay back the $10K that I supposedly owe them. All these bills that I have make me want to kill myself. I can’t stand the thought of owing people money. I still owe like $5k to my therapist, who without her services I would definitely be dead by now. I seriously doubt that anyone can keep me alive that much longer. I just want to die. Why is that so hard to understand? I am a nobody. No one will miss me. They will just miss my money…

suicide ramblings

by Midnight Demon, posted in chronic physical pain, mood disorders, psychache, suicide, suicide attempt

Today was not a good day. I got hit with pain early this morning and I couldn’t go anywhere. While I was watching the baseball games I started knuckling my calf muscle to take the knots out of it. It helped the pain along with pain meds. I tried stretching my calf but it still would not get loose. But the pain is gone now so I am glad it is. Now I just got to remember what I did so that the next time pain hits that part of my leg I know what to do.

I wrote a paper today, again on the Aeschi model. You will hear me talk about this because it is essential to get the word out for people who are suicidal. I believe in this model because it is so straight forward and humane. I also talk about CAMS but even though I know more about the assessment of CAMs than I do about the actual CAMS model. CAMS is Collaborating And Managing Suicidality.

Yesterday was a big day for me. The blog that I write for, What Happens Now, http://attemptsurvivors.com/ , was put into print for the Associate Press on suicide attempt survivors. It made the news and the sad part is that I cannot share it with my family. I am somewhat saddened by this. I can share this with my friends and the internet world but I can’t share it with those I live with. It is sad. But I chose to not share it because I am afraid it will lead to questions about my own suicidality and I cannot bare the thought of sharing this information with my family. It’s bad enough when my Suicide and Life Threatening Behavior journal comes in, I get the glances of disgust. Suicide is not a topic of interest in my house like it is an interest of mine, if only because I think about it nearly every day.

Suicide has been an interest of mine since I was young. Now at nearly thirty years later and I don’t know how many attempts, I still think it is the only way out of my suffering. I have made a date this year that if things aren’t improved, I will go through with it. I can’t help but think that being dead is the answer to my problems. I know that people say that suicide is the permanent solution to temporary problem, but my leg pain and depression are not temporary. I have to live with this the rest of my life and if I choose not to, isn’t it my choice? Don’t I have the right to die if I so choose? I am not saying that I will commit suicide tomorrow but it is in the distant future that I will die. I am not promised tomorrow, no one is. I just think that I don’t have a purpose with my life. And a lifetime of being in chronic physical pain is not appealing to me. I just can’t go on knowing that every day I will be in some kind of pain that has no end. Or the fact that I have to be on pain medication for the rest of my life. I just can’t fathom that. I worry that one day I will be denied the medication because I have been on them for so long. I just can’t risk that happening. I am scared of that happening. I’m also afraid of people not believing that I am depressed because I joke around so much. I’m sorry that I have a sense of humor. It has helped me with my depression more than anything. If I didn’t have it, I told my psychiatrist, she had permission to commit me somewhere. My heart is so dark at times I can’t stand it. I feel like it should stop beating because I feel so dead inside. And this goes on day after day. There is no relief. I never feel alive and joyful. Just sad and despairing.

accidents and other musings

by Midnight Demon, posted in cauda equina syndrome

I kind of feel lousy today. My stomach is not doing well and I had to take a cab home to hurry to the bathroom. I hate it when my stomach gets upset but the alternative of having an accident outside the home is more humiliating than having it in the home.

Funny how many will think of the word “accident” as a car or some kind of vehicle accident than a bowel or bladder incident. I had a few while I was working and it was not fun. I often had to go home afterwards to clean myself up. When asked why I said I had an accident and they immediately thought that I had a car accident. They didn’t realize that I had regressed to that of a two year old. How indignant is it that a grown person has a leaky bladder and when the stools are loose, an accident. I can’t help it. I have lost function of my bowel and bladder so when I get a signal from either I have to make it to the bathroom or I lose my underwear and have to take a shower. But no matter how many showers you take you don’t feel clean. It just makes you feel like a dirty person and it messes with your mind.

I am having an okay day otherwise. My foot (knock on wood) has been ok so far. I am sure it will act up in a few hours when I am trying to watch the game. Stephen Drew is back in the line up tonight. Can’t wait to see his début. Hopefully it will be good and he plays solid defense. Everyone has been commenting on how the Sox have no errors so far. I hope they don’t jinx the team because they are commenting on it. I will be upset.

I still have not talked to the group leader about me leaving the group therapy that I started over a month ago. I think it is best that I move on from that group. It is too triggering and I feel bad afterwards. I just don’t think the group is for me anymore, though the down side is not going by Fenway Park every week. Only reason why I have not done so is because I know he will want me to say goodbye to the group and I am just not ready to do that or think that it’s appropriate. Can’t tell a bunch of people I have to leave because I am getting nothing out of this group and need to move on, especially when some of the members are so close to the edge themselves.

Think I am going to watch Lincoln now…

A remembrance of the past

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

I read a blog today that really hit home and made me think. It was about a person that wrote about her experience of attempting suicide eight years ago this month. I also have an attempt anniversary this month, actually in a few days time it will be 21 years ago that I first attempted suicide with diphenhydramine, also known as Benedryl. I remember that it was a month after my then therapist told me she was leaving. I thought fine, so will I. I planned my death on a day I knew my family would not be home and took the pills. What I didn’t account for was puking, violently. If I hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t be here today. I still remember my eyes being dilated for almost a week afterwards. I was pretty mad and I felt like a failure, a huge one. Probably the biggest one on the planet at that point. Here I was, a very intelligent teenager who couldn’t kill himself right. I sunk into the worse depression after that. Actually, I had no idea I could sink worse than what I already felt but I did. I began losing weight, lost my appetite almost completely. I was sixteen years old and all I thought about was death. I was not sleeping. I would wake up at four in the morning nearly every day and couldn’t go back to sleep. I would wake up dreading the world, not wanting to go to my summer job but I had to. I couldn’t show that I was depressed. My mother had already freaked out when she found out I had overdosed thanks to the said therapist who told her after I told her what I had done. I didn’t know what to do. I think after several weeks of this and it just getting worse and worse I called Samaritans and talked with them about my situation. The person told me that I should be in the hospital and I contemplated that. I waited a few more days to see if things would get better and when I couldn’t take anymore, I told my mother I needed help. She took me to the hospital and I got diagnosed as major depression with psychotic features. Up until then, I had dreams of joining the navy. Those dreams died in the hospital emergency room when they told me I was psychotic because the voices in my head wouldn’t shut up. I actually felt free to talk with them for the first time in my life. My mother didn’t like that as it appeared that I was crazy. Well I was…

I got to the hospital and got sent to a local psych ward that was NOT for teens. I then got transferred to a better psych hospital the next day. I would have two more admissions there before I had a break. So my cycle of being in and out of the hospital began. I had three admissions all within a year. I blamed my next therapist for this as if she was doing her job, I wouldn’t be so sick. This is the therapist that I saw after the other one had left. I have seen many therapists in my lifetime, too many in fact. Before I turned twenty-five, I would have eleven therapists. Some therapists only saw me for ten months, others were year and a little over. I never had continuity in my care so I always remained unstable. Surprisingly, the only stable therapeutic relationship I have had was with my psychiatrist, whom I have been with since I was seventeen. I wished so badly at times that I could see her for therapy but she only does medication.

And here I am twenty odd years later and I still want to end my life. How sad is that…