I know it’s been a while, and I am sorry. I was in a very bad place, as you know from my last post… I have to admit to myself and to the world, I tried to end my life. This time, I could have succeeded. I called my nurse from the CLSC after and left a message. She called me later and contacted the authorities. I am sorry I did that to her. I shouldn’t have put the weight of my life on her shoulders like that. She was understandably upset with me.
So I’ve been sharing a ward with other weirdos like me for the past 3-4 weeks now. It gets very boring. Or very funny too. Some people have it worse than me, let’s just leave it at that.
I participate in groups. I read. I walk. I talk. But apparently that’s not enough. I need to learn to express my feelings. To dig deep and access those bad emotions like anger and sadness and feel them and share them with people. Well that’s not going to be a small task, let me tell you. I’ve leaned to keep those well hidden away from view so as to not burden people. The perfect little girl so to speak. Apparently I’m the perfect patient too. Yeah!! One thing to be happy about I guess.
To be honest, I still wish I had succeeded. But you won’t hear me tell my doctors that. I tell them I don’t know how I feel about my attempt. I tell them I’m neutral. But I do tell them when I have suicidal ideation. Unfortunately, I’m almost honest to a fault. It only keeps me here longer.
There was a meeting yesterday. Imagine a big conference table. And 6 people sitting around it. One of the three Occupational Therapists, my nurse from the CLSC, my Psychiatrist, a nurse from the ward, my social worker, and somehow (why? who knows?), the pharmacist. And now imagine them inviting you in for a conversation. I was completely terrified. Apparently they did so to tell me they are all worried about me and want to help me get well. I don’t doubt it but hell was that a stressful event for me. I still feel anxiety creeping in today about it. Actually I don’t think I’ll ever think of this and not feel unwell about it. I’m a bit upset they “attacked” me like that.
That’s starting to be a long post, for a “just touching base” one. And not a funny one at that. Ah common! I should have that book of jokes one of my friends on the ward has so I’d leave you on a great note. Well let’s say this: I’m in good hands. One day I’ll be that person with the expressed feelings who doesn’t want to try and end it every so often. I have to believe it. That’s what they keep telling me anyways.
I’m not well today. I fell asleep at 4AM and got up at 5PM. I started watching Timeless, which is , I must admit, a good show. But I can’t distract myself from what’s really on my mind: death. I’m terrified of it. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About how. About when. Fortunately I can’t find a really good reason why I should do it. But I’m obsessed with it. No matter what I do, it comes back, haunting me, taunting me.
This blog post will not be an easy one. But it’s one I want to write. For myself mostly but maybe a little bit for other people, to know that it’s okay and there’s no shame in having attempted suicide. It’s a very difficult subject for me to approach (even with my psychologist I block mid-sentence and she usually guesses where I’m going).
If you think you might be triggered by the subject, I suggest you stop reading here.
The following text is not a how-to or how-not-to. It’s simply my story told in my own words. In a lot of words.
I try and keep a positive tone in most of what I do. I find that it keeps me hoping and it also prevents me from driving everyone around me crazy. I have accepted long ago that my emotions and my crazy thoughts are too much to handle for other people. How could they not? I live with them and they’re too much for me. Sometimes, I need those horrors out there though. By keeping them inside I end up believing in them.
Often I wonder how I’m still alive today. I spend at least 30% of my time trying to convince myself not to give up. That’s a lot of time and energy. I’ve been like that for over 10 years now and I know it’s not going away anytime soon. But some days, it becomes too hard. Some days, everything is too much and I’m not sure willpower alone can keep me going. On days like this, I need to talk. I usually talk to people but lately I’ve been rather lonely. I mean I have friends but I can’t bother them with my irrationality anymore. And I currently have no doctor either (bless the Quebec health system and its wonderful ways) so I can’t just call and book an appointment.
So I’ve decided to talk here. After all, I created this blog to help me deal with the ways of my brain, so I should use it! Now if you don’t feel comfortable reading about suicidal ideation or if the subject is a trigger for you I advise you stop reading here. As much as I need to be writing about it I don’t want to make anyone else feel horrible right now – one is already too much.
When I feel good it’s almost like I forget what it’s like to be depressed. In a way it’s good, because it lets me breathe a bit and enjoy life when I can. But when I feel bad, it’s like I’m a completely different person. And it disturbs me. I get so exhausted, but I can’t get proper sleep, and it makes me incredibly annoyed. It’s like all the little things I usually have patience for now hold great importance. Everything is wrong, and it’s inherently my fault because I’m the one thinking it. And my brain is all foggy and encased in some sort of material that’s applying pressure on it. My head hurts from that foreign entity trying to force itself upon me. No matter what I do, it stays there and grows stronger. And I fight back, as much as I can, with the tools I learned to use.
I take walks, I make jokes, I think about all of those great things I did. I remember the travels, the moments spent with friends. Everything I’ve got going for me. I listen to music and I dance. And it works. Because those things I know and I believe. I know that my family loves me because of everything they’ve done for me. It took me a lot to be remember that though. As a teenager, when I was going into depression I had to keep repeating to myself over and over again “It’s not true. It’s your brain tricking you. Your family loves you. People in the street do not hate you. No one looks at you weird. It’s all your imagination.” It took years but it finally worked. I don’t think that random strangers in the street hate me anymore. I don’t believe that I’m worthless, and have no friends. But my real problems, the one that are present no matter what state I’m in, they’re still there. And they appear so much worse when I’m depressed. I see no hope, no future because my financial situation can’t ever get better, after all, I’m going to get hypomanic and start spending like crazy again. I’m never going to get a stable job because I am not stable myself and I’m unreliable. I can do my best, but my best will never be as good as everyone else’s regular. I know inside that it’s not completely true. But all the fog is making it hard to distinguish the truth.
I’m not a religious person, and I don’t think humans have souls. But that thing that hurts inside of me, that thing that is screaming out in pain, it feels like a soul. I try to hug it tightly, to tell it not to worry. But I’m so tired… It’s going to get better… but it’s also going to get worse… Over and over and over. I think that’s the hardest part. Knowing that I’m stuck like this for the rest of my life. Forever having to battle highs and lows and spend all my energy trying to convince myself that all those thoughts are wrong and filter my emotions. I know that if one day I end my life, this is going to be the reason. I just can’t take the sickness anymore. It takes so much out of me, how can I survive more of it? I don’t want to die. I really wish I could live without all of that pain. But I can’t deal with this any longer. I don’t know where I get the strength to continue when I’m curled up in a corner screaming and crying. Probably from my friends and my family. I don’t want to let them down. We have so much stuff planned – I can’t just die on them like that. Just one more day. Everything will be better soon.
I’ve had a rough week. I’m doing my best to stay afloat. I really wanted to talk to my ex, just a little bit, to get reassured. But I can’t. She has other problems, real problems, to think about. Besides, I don’t think she ever really understood or felt comfortable with my mood swings. I don’t blame her, they’re terribly confusing, scary, and annoying.
It feels like the world has abandoned me. But I’ll keep doing my best. Tomorrow, I’ll go to work, and in the evening, I’ll celebrate my friend’s birthday. Saturday, I’ll help another friend store some of her stuff in the empty room. Sunday, I’ll go fight with foam weapons. And I’ll smile. I’ll pretend that everything is well because this is what I know. I’ll do my best to keep going. Because life is worth it. Even if right now I don’t believe it.
#ActuallyAutistic - An Aspie obsessed with writing. This site is intend to inspire through sharing stories & experiences. The opinions of the writers are their own. I am just an Autistic woman - NOT a medical professional.