Please consider donating so I can walk to end stigma and raise money for suicide prevention.

Please donate here

I will be joining thousands of others nationwide, this fall, to walk in AFSP’s Walk “Out of the Darkness”, to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I would appreciate any support that you give me for this worthwhile cause.

I have personally dealt with major mental illness, including several suicide attempts, as well as several family members’ struggles with mental illness. Funding for suicide prevention is integral and extremely important.

I hope you will consider supporting my participation in this event. Any contribution will help the work of AFSP, and all donations are 100% tax deductible. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), every year, almost one million people die from suicide; a “global” mortality rate of 16 per 100,000, or one death every 40 seconds. In the last 45 years suicide rates have increased by 60% worldwide. Please consider a donation today and maybe even joining me for the walk!

 

i think i may need help soon *trigger warning for self injury*

I think I’m falling apart and quickly. I am currently surviving hour by hour, which feels awful. I want to sleep and take pills all day and not do anything.
I was rejected by someone I liked and it’s because I’m fucking crazy.
I want to die.

Medication is a necessity for me. *UPDATE*

I am lost right now. My medications have been reduced to almost nothing, and for those of you who live with mental illness and require them, you understand how this feels.

I was to undergo a sleep study last week for narcolepsy, finally.Apparently you’re not allowed to be on certain medications while you undergo sleep studies because they can give false results. Whatever. So, I had to begin the fun task of titrating down off of my anti-D and Vyvanse. I say titrate, but really, it wasn’t very slow. They cut me in half for a week, then cut me off. I crashed and I crashed hard. I don’t believe it was a result of just the meds, but a combination of the medications plus, my shit life.

I began burning again, I missed work, slept all day, stayed up all night, and now I’m back to splitting again in my relationships. A lot of black and white thinking occurring over here! Some serious depression happening, which is bringing out my my BPD symptoms. I feel isolated, alone, and like no one cares. I’m picking fights with Chris. I’m abandoning my few acquaintances I do have on Facebook, just because I don’t think they’re reaching out to me. I even began abusing my Klonopin again.  Spiral down wardssssss.

I found out a few days after visiting the doctor that they did not accept the clinic I went to, so my appointment would be pushed to April 30th. Yep, I am now going to have to wait. So, what about my medications? Well, the nurses couldn’t answer that question. I made several calls to find out and it took 4 days to finally get an answer: I was to take 50mg of my anti-D (I normally take 150mg) and do not resume the Vyvanse. 4 days prior to the study, stop taking the anti-D. YAY!

Today is the 19th and I missed work, I haven’t showered in two days, and I’m crying over everything. I have zero motivation, I’m apathetic, and I’m pretty much pissy. I just want a hug, but I want it from the people who aren’t here to give one to me. I want, I want, I want what I cannot and will not get/have.

I feel so utterly shitty and alone. I want someone to pet my hair and treat me like a sick 7 year old. I want a caring mother. I want to lay in bed and be loved and listen to music and eat junk and whine and do what I WANT.

No stress. No worry on my mind.

Instead, I have to act like I’m not mentally fucked. I have to act like I’m not disappointed that people aren’t acting concerned. I have to pretend, like always. I’m tired of it.

 

I don’t know how it feels to want to be alive.

I don’t know what it feels like to not have death as an option. Even when I’m considered stable, like I am now, I still think of it often. I haven’t burned myself in so long, my scars have faded and yet, I still think of suicide as a “get out of shitty life” free card. I stare at the giant 15o count bottle of pills and wonder if I’d make it though without throwing up first or passing out. Of course I’d have to eat all of my Vyvanse and Klonopin too. Lamictal won’t cut the mustard. Why is this still an obsession for me? Once it was there, in my brain, it’s like it planted it’s seed to stay. I keep hacking away at the soil around it but, nothing. Will I always struggle with suicidality? What an exhausting existence.

I feel like a monster.

I feel like there’s this, monster inside of me that’s trying really hard to make me do bad things. It’s trying to make me hurt myself. It’s trying to make me not go to work. It’s trying to make me not do my homework and take too many pills or lay in bed all day. So far, it’s succeeded on several occasions and I’m finding it harder to tell this monster to fuck off. These past couple weeks have been brutal. I have been fighting and pushing and trying to hard to stave off this depressive episode, but it’s here and baby it’s strong. I feel like I’m wrapped safely, if you’d like to call it that, in it’s dark, dank, humid blanket of misery and crying and suicidal thoughts.

Texts to friends at all hours of the night. Sitting on the edge of the bed wondering whether or not tonight you’ll be sitting in the ER about to go inpatient. Wondering how you’ll explain to your job and to school that you’ll be missing several days, possibly a week, and you can’t really tell them why. Laying in bed and not bathing for three days. Bowls and plates piling up until you have nowhere left to put them and you end up tripping over them. Running out of laundry and deciding to hand wash a few pairs of underwear in the sink. The litter box stinks. The cats need some loving. Your house smells.

Yep, depression had made itself right at home. If you’re lucky enough to have a roommate, like me, it doesn’t get near this bad. The cats get fed, I get fed, etc. He even kicks my ass and makes me go to work and will even do my laundry from time to time. He even knows the appropriate times to force me to get out of bed and go lay on the couch.  Tonight he made me go, GASP, grocery shopping! It took half a Klonopin but I did it and it felt okay.

I’m trying so hard, I really am. This monster is just trying harder and I can feel the tug and pull. Everyone around me is tugging and pulling too. They are trying to keep me from sinking into the pit of my bed but I don’t know if it’s too late.

I keep getting these horrible visions in my head. I like to blame them on the monster because I really don’t have them any other time. I keep seeing myself committing violent acts against myself that I normally wouldn’t do otherwise. Slicing my wrists, hanging myself, jumping of bridges, etc. etc. The usual, except they’re all extremely vivid visualizations and extremely disturbing. My preferred “method” (we all have one, us suicidal people) is to OD, so all of these particularly violent ways are just not my style.  The issue I’m having with the visualizations the most is the extreme feeling of relief I get when I have them. It’s not shock or horror, it’s relief. I think that’s what scares me the most.

I was also riding in the car tonight and out of nowhere a thought occurred to me, a very disturbing one: I am going to die young. I will not live very long at all.  Again, I felt extreme peace and relief when I thought this, almost like weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I then realized that maybe that wasn’t normal. People aren’t supposed to feel that way when they think something like that. Shit, they aren’t supposed to think thoughts like that to begin with.

Well, we know I’m not “normal”, right?

I can’t be alone in this, can I? Has anyone else felt extreme relief or peace when thinking these types of thoughts?

 

 

Update on my transgressions

I just sat down at Panera for lunch and blogging time. I had therapy at noon and it was the most intense session yet. I cried and I’ve never cried in therapy with her. She basically said that I’ve hit a roadblock right now. I am to see a psychiatrist next Friday and see about medicating my depression and anxiety away. I cannot continue working with her until I’m stable and my depression is making it impossible.

I feel so numb right now. I took half a lortab before session and I plan on taking another half in about an hour. I want to be numb all day and night. I want to be numb until Monday’s session.

We discussed more about my dependency on the idea of committing myself inpatient. The fact that it’s a last resort and a safety blanket for me, not a remedy. We also spoke about how dependent I already am on her and how even if she could see me more, she wouldn’t because it would only further my dependency. I admittedly teared up and felt an ache in my heart when I heard this. I know in my mind, this is logical and right. My heart, on the other hand, is a totally different story. I yearn for our encounters and I feed off of them. I’m a junkie.

I’m thrilled and excited to finally be getting the help I need but I’m terrified. I feel like Mr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, constantly fighting. One part of me wants to get better and be happy. The other part wants to stay the same or even possibly get worse. I yearn for that attention and affection I never got as a child. I need it to breathe.

So begins the battle of the chemicals of my brain and medication. I’ll be in touch later about the results.