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!

 

Please consider donating any amount you’re able to my walk for American Suicide Prevention.

http://afsp.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donordrive.participant&participantID=427468

I will be joining thousands of others nationwide, this fall, to walk in AFSP’s Walk “Out of the Darkness” Community Walk, 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!

Donating online is safe and easy! To make an online donation please click the “Support This Participant” button on this page.

Thank you for visiting my fundraising page!

PS- Please contact me if you’re interested in starting a team.
Watch this video and please, help with whatever you can.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSMQ84wORIs&feature=player_embedded

Three years…

It’s been a really tumultuous three years but I’m still here, fighting and whining and bitching and crying and, well, healing. I’ve been with my current therapist for three years! It’s just, well, it’s just unbelievable. First off, you’re not supposed to go past 10-12 sessions at the women’s center where I see her, so three years is unheard of. I don’t know how she’s worked it out, but I’m very grateful. I only pay $15 a session and wouldn’t be able to afford anything more than that. Second, I should have died a few times by now if it weren’t for her help. I almost successfully committed suicide in August and I’ve been hospitalized three subsequent times since. She’s been there for me the whole time, as much as she was able to.

I’m terrified that she will leave the women’s center she’s been at (she’s been getting her hours for license certification) and go elsewhere. If it’s somewhere in Jacksonville and we can work on price, I’ll be fine. The problem is, she live in Amelia Island, and I cannot afford to drive that far for therapy. I’m dreading the day she tells me that she is leaving. I don’t think I can handle it. I guess until then, I will cherish every session with her.

Journal entry 2/29/12

I don’t know what it feels like to not have death as an option. Even when I’m considered stable, like snow, I still think of it often. I haven’t burned myself in so long, my scars have fasted, an yet, I still think of suicide as a “get out of shitty life “free card. I stare at the gian 150 count bottle of pills and wonder if I’d make it through 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 such an obsession for me? Once it was there, in my brain, it’s like it planter it’s see to stay. I keep hacking away at the soil but to no avail. Will I always struggle with suicidality? What an exhausting existence.

Journal entry 4/18/11

I am ugly. I am fat. I should just kill myself and spare everyone the burden of taking care of me. I’m inept. I’m a waste. Who wants me? No one. I should rot in bed. I’ll never finish school. I will always fail. I find flaws everywhere I look on my body. I hate myself. Everything anyone said ever said about me that was bad, is true. When I’m gone, no one will care. I want to slice my arm open. I hate life.

The “S” word. [ Trigger warning for talk of suicide ]

Taboo. It’s unheard of to talk about suicide when you’re mentally ill because it makes people nervous.

Shh! You have to whisper it.

Or better yet, don’t mention it. Act like it’s invisible and it doesn’t exist. If you’ve attempted to kill yourself in the past, it’s even more of a “no-no”. Talk about walking on eggshells and being made to feel invalidated!

I personally don’t treat it like that at all and wish the rest of society would begin to loosen the hell up and talk more freely about something that is most definitely a part of life; death, no matter how you arrive to it, it happens to us all.

Suicide. It’s just a word to me and the more I treat it like a word, the less power it has over my life. The more I push it away and act like it hasn’t been a major part of my life, the more it will push back and remind me that it’s still around the corner at any moment.

It’s funny how before I became severely depressed and before I first attempted to end my life, I never even thought of suicide. It wasn’t something I ever even contemplated or really turned over much in my mind. I never had friends who talked about it and it was one of those things you only heard of on TV or in the movies. Oh the joys of being improperly medicated!

I sometimes feel like these thoughts and feelings I have are so commonplace, that others must feel the same way. I do all the time.

Then I remember that they don’t. Most people don’t become suicidal after a small fight with their roommate over what to eat for dinner. Most people don’t think of swallowing all of their pills, plus their resevoir pills, just because of a silly spat over which TV show to watch. That’s when I came to realize that suicidal ideation is not normal reaction, it’s extreme and unhealthy. It can also be dangerous if not monitored.

After ten years of dealing with, surviving, and figuring out what makes me tick, I consider myself an expert. Does this knowledge make it easier? Sometimes. Does it make it hurt less or the thoughts not automatically pop into my head? No. They do all the damn time. I am, for the most part, stable. I also have a lot more work to do. Everyday is a struggle but I’m alive.

Suicide is taboo and talking about it openly should be encouraged, in the right settings. I’ve attempted twice, now, and been hospitalized four times to prevent myself from trying again. Do I think I’ll try again? Maybe. Hospital again? Maybe. No way to know for sure. Just have to survive each day, somehow.

Goodbye Anne

I only have 20 more sessions with my counselor. I found this out today and I’m feeling pretty sick about it. Apparently, the center where I see her doesn’t allow long term counseling services. To them, 20 is the maximum allowed. I’ve been seeing her for almost a year, so obviously I’ve gone way over.  What sucks most about this is that I feel like I need her even more and now I’m learning I’ll be seeing her less. I was given the option to continue weekly sessions and see her for 5 more months. Or, I can choose bi-weekly session and double that amount of time, which I obviously did.

I went into session today and brought up my fear that she was beginning to get sick of me and was ready to pass me on to someone else. She assured me that this was not true and then dropped this bombshell on me. I can’t help but feel like I’m being abandoned. I have nowhere else to go. I cannot afford to pay more than I do and there are not other options available.

So when I see her for the last time, what will I do? Right now, I’m thinking I’ll flip out. Crying is the least of my worries. I tend to impulsively endanger myself when I am abandoned. I hope between now and then, I’ll have learned some new coping skills to deal, but I am skeptical. I can’t think about it. The more I do, the more I want to crawl into a ball and never leave my bed.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll be on medication and in therapy the rest of my life. It doesn’t bother me. What does bother me is getting close to a therapist and then having to move on to someone else. I don’t want to.