βKnow how sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong.β ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
10
Sep
2010
Since suicide is my scientific speciality (or not, considering how many times I failed at it), it seems appropriate that I would make a post today about suicide prevention. I actually have no idea how to prevent it. When I was so far down for so long, no hope, no vision of a happier future got through. The best prevention I’d say is to lock us up til it passes, no matter how long that might be. Unfortunately that won’t happen in America today. I begged for that, put me in a state hospital, dope me up on Thorazine so I’m too numb to care, let my kids come in once a month to watch me drool. I was clearly feeling pretty bad to consider that an option I could live with. In fact I thought it was the only option that would keep me alive. If I hadn’t had kids I wouldn’t have cared but oh that tremendous guilt I felt when I knew I was going to leave them that way. But even then, the idea of staying in this life was unacceptable. Only my aversion to physical pain kept me alive (well, that and the fact that it’s incredibly hard to get enough pills to just fall into an endless sleep).
My brother committed suicide. I knew he was depressed but he wasn’t overt about it like I was. He had good friends, he had the ability to be a good friend and act outwardly okay. I put my craziness out there for the whole world to see and I couldn’t have done it any different. Warren shot himself. I’m way too cowardly to try that. I did slit my wrists once and damn, that hurt. So I tried pills (x4), I tried sitting in a running car with a dryer vent duct taped from the tailgate to the window (x2). Let me tell you, it’s really hard to die that way, or God was looking out for me. It also makes you very sick for days afterward. Dorothy Parker got it right: βRazors pain you; rivers are damp; acids stain you; and drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; nooses give; gas smells awful; you might as well live.β
There is an article on CNN today; “Embracing life after suicide attempt” and while her challenges were different than mine (she’s bipolar), our end result could have been the same. It’s not the same though, because she calls her article Embracing Life. I don’t really do that, I tolerate life. When my therapist says “You aren’t getting better.” I want to scream “But at least I’m not getting worse!” I’ve been there and this is okay. I mean, I think this is as good as it’s going to get and I can Live with that. In her article Melody says “The dangerous thing about silence is that it breeds shame and isolation.” Well, I’m an expert on shame, isolation and being totally unacceptable, so don’t rub it in.
When Warren died, I wanted to die too. I grieved so much for his pain. It was perfectly okay for me to feel that way most of my life, but I loved him, it was not okay at all. And that’s really the gist of it all. I loved him but I don’t love me.
I’m no Melody Moezzi (see above article), there is nothing redeeming in my post. I’m glad it’s not on CNN where all those jerks who are being snots to her might find me. Way to go with the compassion there folks, you are the crazy ones if you think we enjoy feeling this way. In the end, I suppose compassion and empathy are better suicide preventatives than all the pills in the world.
1
Mar
2010
Had my therapist appointment this morning and ask for clarification on the ten things I would enjoy doing. Yes, he does mean things that require being social. (okay, I knew that, I was just stalling). So here is my list:
So, heh, I only need four more to add to my list of things that I’ll probably never do.
18
Feb
2010
Note to self…when you are feeling so like garbage that you write the previous post, stop and think. The big clue is that when I told my doctor that I couldn’t keep track of when I was due a B12 shot, she said “If you start feeling awful, give yourself one.” Duh… So yeah, it helped somewhat. I still am wobbly, can’t do much and have migraines like I’ve never had before, but I’ve decided maybe I’m not dying after all.
This whole daily routine thing seems to be beyond me anymore. You know, like eating, sleeping, taking meds, doing housework. I think I need to make a chart like I used to have for my kids. But what in the world could I use as a reward? A gold star isn’t gonna cut it. A huge start would be to get out of this 30+ hour day thing I have going on. Someone mentioned it on one of my tumor posts, and asked if I was taking a melatonin supplement. Perhaps it’s time to look into that. In case you don’t know, your pineal gland regulates your circadian rhythm (it tells you when it’s day and night). Well being that my gland has gone missing, maybe a supplement would help me a lot.
Of course that isn’t going to cure the rest of this mess, but maybe it’s a step. The real issue is right here, and it isn’t going away. Adhd is not just about inattention, that part is bad enough. It’s also about getting too focused when it’s something you love. Boy do I remember my dad sitting up all night checkering his gun stocks. That’s what keeps me sitting here 30 to 40 hours straight mucking around with code. Everything in moderation doesn’t seem to be in my vocabulary.
16
Feb
2010
Lately I think a lot that I am not long for this world. That’s probably because I feel like shit most of the time. I have migraines more days than not, I have no muscle tone and feel horrible whenever I try to do something to fix that problem. I can’t even be on my feet for more than a few minutes without thinking I’m going to pass out or be sick. I can’t even get food down half the time when I manage to wobble my way to the kitchen to nuke something. I mean geez, am I somehow too far gone to recover? Here’s where the depression comes in though….who really cares? Oh I know my kids care. I know people love me, but my life or lack thereof is a joke and I don’t care. I’m sick of it all, I’ve spent a year feeling like crap and I don’t see an end. I have no life and no friends here (okay, there is William) and that is my own fault but it’s more than I’m up to trying to fix when I feel lousy. I need a rehab center of my own. And a physical therapist apparently. Instead I sit here musing about donating my body to science vs the body farm, since I can’t afford to die either π
My therapist says William is good for me because he makes a pest of himself and forces me to be social. Ever since kindergarten when I used to say I was sick to skip school, I’ve had this problem. Social stuff feels overwhelming to me. I learned early on I was no good at it. So yesterday because I refuse to do anything requiring interacting with people, he told me to list 10 things I would enjoy (I think he means things that require interaction with other humans). Ten?! Right this moment I can’t even think of one….blame the bloody migraine.
11
Jan
2010