This. This is why I blog.
|I'm sorry, I can't find the original person/site of this pic.|
January 15, 2015
January 6, 2015
Bipolar Disorder has been a major part of my entire life, but the last three months have been the worst I can remember in about 17 years. Suicidal ideations have floated through my head off and on more times than I can count, but I was always able to pull out of them. I can remember twice there were spur of the moment intercepted attempts, but nothing like this. This time was the first time I actually had a plan, and now because I went over and over the details, perfecting them every night while I couldn't sleep, and all day while I couldn't get out of bed, it feels like its ingrained into my brain. I wonder if it will ever go away or if it will make it easier the next time? I'm OK now, I got through it, I'm not sure how. I had things to do before I left, there were some things I didn't want to leave undone. And before you ask, no... I will not tell you my plan. Nobody knows what it is, and nobody will. I've told my therapist and my psychiatrist that it existed, but even they don't know the details.
I don't care what any professional says, there is no hotline, friend, or platitude that can take it away. When it comes to that point, that's it, it can't be stopped. No amount of "think of the good things in life, think of the people that will miss you or be devastated" will help. It just doesn't work that way. The years of seemingly never ending pain, had finally reached an unbearable point. I think the only people that should write University classes for psychs-to-be about suicide should be the people who've been there...and somehow survived. Because nothing I've read or heard prepared me for the "already-dead" feeling that encompassed me. I wish I could find something I just read, so I could quote it correctly and give credit to the writer, but it had to do with calling the person who committed suicide "selfish." The write said it's not selfish, it's simply an act of desperation. The person isn't even thinking of themselves, mostly just the pain. Make it go away...now. The people left behind? It's not their fault, it was not something done to them, there was nothing that could have stopped it. I don't remember having feelings that fit into the dictionary definition of selfish (see below*), it was just there...in my head...seeming to be in total control of any other thought that tried to get in. I knew how it would affect others, I was well aware of how the well-being of my loved ones would be trashed. I just felt I had no other choice. All other options had been exhausted.
* "Selfish." Merriam-Webster.com. Merriam-Webster, n.d. Web. 6 Jan. 2015. <http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/selfish>.
Full Definition of SELFISH1: concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others2: arising from concern with one's own welfare or advantage in disregard of others <a selfish act>
I am not trying to make the point that it is inevitable, that when one thinks of suicide there's nothing that can be done. It doesn't have to be hopeless, there are many things that work for many people. Untold lives have been saved by a kind word, a hand reached out in friendship, a call to a hotline. I just want people to know, to face the fact of mental illness (which is difficult for so many who don't live with it); sometimes reality sucks, sometimes there's no happy ending.
This post was going to be about something else, something uplifting and positive, but it seems to have written itself. Maybe tomorrow I'll write again about the good stuff going on, but for now I just wanted someone to know what it really feels like.