Tag Archives: suicide

Understanding The Terror

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“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.” ~

David Foster Wallace

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11 Signs That Someone You Know Is Hiding Depression – Learning Mind

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https://www.learning-mind.com/hiding-depression-signs/

https://www.learning-mind.com/hiding-depression-signs/

Looking for definitions 

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“Lennie hesitated, backed away, looked wildly at the brush line as though he contemplated running for his freedom. George said coldly, “You gonna give me that mouse or do I have to sock you?”
“Give you what, George?”

“You know God damn well what. I want that mouse.”

Lennie reluctantly reached into his pocket. His voice broke a little. “I don’t know why I can’t keep it. It ain’t nobody’s mouse. I didn’t steal it. I found it lyin’ right beside the road.”

George’s hand remained outstretched imperiously. Slowly, like a terrier who doesn’t want to bring a ball to its master, Lennie approached, drew back, approached again. George snapped his fingers sharply, and at the sound Lennie laid the mouse in his hand.”

~ John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men

Maybe I just don’t know how to say, “I’m sorry” it’s something I probably never learned and possibly why I over compensate in other areas and can’t fully explain my mental illness. When the mania is over and the depression starts to slithers its way into all the wounds where most people would receive light, it feels like your world is empty. Each wound is slowly filled with someone’s anger, someone’s hurt, someone’s disbelief. Those wounds sealed with darkness. 
My extreme mania, so lucid. An experiment with medication, euphoria, psychosis, and the ability to do anything. Now, I find myself sealing wounds with darkness. Take away all the sickness, I’ve lost my closest friends. I trusted people who betrayed me, because I inadvertently betrayed them, endless cycle of the bipolar mind. You trust and love people and learn instead of helping they run, opening wounds. Others, stay building an invisible net catching me as I fall into darkness.
Now, in depression my mind can only remember the good and can’t think of how I ever hurt a soul. I’m reminded daily, but my mind is a blender on high. I gave until i couldn’t give anymore. Understanding, any hurt isn’t even comprehensible and only brings tears. Looking at the faces of my children when I returned home from the hospital reminded me where my priorities should’ve been and suicide was not the answer. Getting proper medication was important, everything else wasn’t important. Until you have experienced the bipolar mind it’s important to remember it’s all real, it’s amazing and deadly.
Each time like Lennie, from the quote above, he would pet them too hard often killing them. I love too deeply, I love too hard. I give my soul to causes, to people, to everything and disregard the people who truly love me…breaking them in the end. If you read the Steinbeck story, I’m not only Lennie, I’m George…I’m constantly protecting (him) myself and I want my story to end with us as one person again. 
“”For the rabbits,” Lennie shouted.

“For the rabbits,” George repeated.

“And I get to tend the rabbits.”

“An’ you get to tend the rabbits.”

Lennie giggled with happiness. “An’ live on the fatta the lan’.”

“Yes.”

Lennie turned his head.

“No, Lennie. Look down there acrost the river, like you can almost see the place.”

Lennie obeyed him. George looked down at the gun.””

 ~ John Steinbeck Of Mice and Men

I am my own story, I am my beginning, my climax, and my end. I just want to write happy endings for everyone. Sadly, in this world everyone can’t have happy endings, but I can survive my story. Tonight, I listen to my little guy who is seven play football in the house. I do not stop him, I hug him. I listen to my crazy cat break ornaments on the Christmas tree, I hug her a little harder. The dog constantly scratches next to me, I stay calm and hug her a little swiftly with my foot.
I’m happy I am alive.

Hospitalization ~ Down the rabbit hole

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“It is a very inconvenient habit of kittens (Alice had once made the remark) that whatever you say to them, they always purr.” ~ Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There (Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, #2)
I’ll spare you all the details of the manic episodes that led to this post because of my young readers, including my own pre-teen. I hope she and others read this post and understands why her mother was gone for nearly two weeks and all the Thanksgiving food went uncooked this year in my unexpected absence. Please respect my blog and direct any questions privately. 

Like the quote above, I have an inconvenient habit of purring, always smiling, and always living life to the fullest. The details are unimportant to this particular post except I did the one thing you never do, stopped my medication. I was convinced I was wrongly medicated and each time another pill would be added sending me into a rabbit hole. I reached out entirely too subtle and told one or two people I stopped all my meds then followed with the “I’m fine”. I WAS NOT FINE.
“Manic depression — or bipolar disorder — is like racing up to a clifftop before diving headfirst into a cavity. Maintaining a healthy lifestyle is the psychic equivalent of an extreme sport. The manic highs — that exhilarating rush to the top of the cliff — make you feel bionic in your hyper-energized capacity for generosity, sexiness and soulfulness. You feel like you have ingested stars and are now glowing from within. It’s unearned confidence-in-extremis — with an emphasis on the con, because you feel cheated once you inevitably crash into that cavity. I sometimes joke that mania is the worst kind of pyramid scheme, one that the bipolar individual doesn’t even know they’re building, only to find out, too late, that they’re also its biggest casualty.” ~ Diriye Osman
So head first I landed in the mental health hospital. It was extremely important to stabilize and get me on proper medication as fast as possible. I was numb, dead to the world and nonexistent. The details are blurry, the EMT talked the entire time on the ride to the hospital to comfort me. Entry was like a jail, but an overwhelming smell of crayons. All my things were taken, watch, phone, shoes, and anything with strings. I didn’t care, I was escorted to my little room I would share. During my time there I watched the ward turn over patients 2 or 3 times, I stayed.
I wasn’t one of the lucky ones who got to eat in the cafeteria, I wasn’t allowed to leave my ward. My breakfast, lunch, dinner came in styrofoam containers at the same time everyday, in the same place. The same area I sat all day to color and look out the window. Thanksgiving day, dinner came in the styrofoam container, it was surreal. I had grown attached to a small group of people and we ate together and then went on with our day like any other. I watched people come and go, I wondered to myself, “how sick am I?” I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t go home and in my tiny room I’d already had three roommates. Looking out my window everyday I just felt trapped, trapped like an animal. 
I was eventually released just before the weekend, After nearly two weeks I felt defeated and broken. It was amazing to surround myself with friends who insisted I spend the weekend outside doing a sport I love, but now looking at windows from the outside, not trapped inside. Feeling defeated went away and feeling broken slowly went away so I could heal and forget the memories of the ward. I need that inconvenient habit of purring.

“Did you take your meds?”

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   img_0030Sometimes as I have my coffee I start to ponder random thoughts and immediately hear the statement  “did you take you meds” in my head. A statement, I’ve come to strongly dislike but accept.  It’s one thing to battle my bipolar disorder as silently as possible but every day I hear that statement. I say something overly funny, “did you take your meds?” I say something brilliant, “did you take your meds?” I make a statement about my feelings, “did you take your med?” I decided I’m going to buy a zoo…..”did you take your meds?” Yes…yes…YES….well probably forgot not buying the zoo. But I hate people asking me when I’m not up or down. It’s like even in a normal state I can’t be normal. I know I have to take meds for the rest of my life.

Over the last year, it’s been a struggle to find a perfect cocktail, but without hesitation I take whatever they give me now to make everyone happy around me. I’m not “play with my shit nuts” off meds, I’m just extreme one direction or the other. My extreme up can be very self destructive, self gratifying, hyposexual, and I have super powers. Yes, super powers! I don’t have to sleep anymore, I can do what takes a normal human a week in a day. I can sing and I’ll probably tell you about that marathon I never ran or my mountain ski trip I never took. People love me, people want to do stuff with me because I’m fun and outgoing. I can shop like no other and give very charitably.  During my extremes I loose touch with reality. I am an over exaggeration of myself.

Now the dark side “the down”. So it’s true, what goes up must come down. And it happens for me like a switch. No one likes to talk about suicide or suicidal thoughts. Heck, I don’t even like saying it out loud to my doctor. I’ll just ignore or nod when she ask if I’ve been suicidal. So the “down” usually happens and feels like I’ve got the flu so I nap and become very introverted. I am sick, sick of my weight caused by meds, sick of being self destructive, embarrassed. Embarrassed is an understandment. I have to answer for all my actions that happened during my extremes and mania. I have to hear the stories, be the punchline of the joke, “and then it was awesome, she did (insert funny destruction)…..” Then look my children and husband in the face at the hurt and disappointed. I’m convinced the world hates me. I have no one, no friends. I convince myself I am only hurting those around me. That’s when that dark monster within convinces me everyone would be better off without me in this world. It’s selfish, but when you are down it’s actually pretty selfless. Your mind convinces you you’re saving everyone from the pain. It’s dark and I don’t want to really even talk about the bottom, but there is a bottom and it’s has a trap door called suicide. 

So did I take my meds today, yes! Is it always effective, no! Is it worth it, yes. I like my normal self. I realize I have purpose. I remember I’m a great balance between my extremes. The friends who were there during my extremes are usually the first to leave your side. I mean, I’m not super crazy fun and buying them stuff, footing the bill to be loved. I don’t need those people and in the end those are usually the trigger.

I have probably a couple of the greatest friends in the world. I may not see them for years at a time but they are the ones to call and talk to me after or before doctor appointment. They are the ones who ask, “did you take you meds?” That’s when it really clicks, they are not asking to remind me I’m crazy but because they like the normal me. 

Yes, I took my meds today.