It has been *such* a hard several days.
At first, I was going to write a post here about suicidal ideation and compulsion in people with chronic disease.
Then, I was going to write about coping with a lack of mobility.
Then, I was going to write about dealing with both of them in a relationship…
But to be honest with you all, I don’t feel like I’m in any position to write about what to do in any of those situations because I’m dealing with all of them right now and haven’t come out the other side yet.
I have to say, I’m worried about myself.
Tuesday, I went to the beach with my boyfriend’s brother. I had so much fun. I ran on the beach, skipped, danced, and screamed at the top of my lungs to the ocean, “I LOVE MY LIFE!!!”
8 hrs later, and I was feeling compelled to kill myself. I couldn’t stop thinking about ending it. I was certain that the right thing to do, and once again, as I was riding in a car, the RIGHT thing to do according to my brain was, “Tuck and roll.”
Obviously, I didn’t do it. I asked to go home, where I broke down crying so hard I couldn’t stop shaking, leaking, or trying to hide from everyone. I started watching matches burn to the bottom. I kept thinking that I have nothing to live for.
That is, in a word, ridiculous. I’m not usually one to share things like this, but if I can help anyone who is in a similar position by telling people what I’m going through, then it’s worth it.
Back in 2003, I chose to check myself into a hospital for a couple of days because I was having suicidal ideation. I was sure killing myself was the best thing I could do for myself, for my husband-at-the-time, for the world — because I was taking up natural resources that could better be used for someone who makes a difference. Obviously, that was fucked thinking. I went through the outpatient treatments and chose to continue therapy thereafter. Ultimately, it came down to ideation and not compulsion at that time – the idea being that I didn’t actually want to die (I mean, I checked myself into the hospital…), but that it was a worst-case escape plan scenario. At one point in time, my inability to make an omelet properly was reason enough in my mind to end it all. (Really, is there anything worse to eat than burnt, rubbery, smelly eggs?)
Because I now have 5+ years of therapy under my belt, have read countless books on overcoming depression, and am a good person with a lot to offer the world, when I start feeling that killing myself is not only right, but immediately necessary – I know something is *wrong*.
Earlier this year, I came off Keppra because I was having these same suicidal impulses. Taking Keppra away helped IMMENSELY, and for several months, I didn’t have any kind of suicidal thoughts. So why is it starting again?
Certainly, there are factors that would make most people horribly depressed: MS, seizure disorder, unemployment, lack of mobility outside of the house, the extremely large hospital bills to pay when I have no money, having gained 40 pounds in the last year and a half and not knowing how long it will be before I can exercise it off when I can’t get my body temperature up too much, having no idea what direction to take for my future… but NONE of those are reasons to die. Even with the pain. Even with the frustration. Sure, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, but death? Really?
Fortunately, the easiest way to avoid death when you’re suicidal is simple. Just don’t do anything. If you don’t take action to kill yourself, you likely won’t die by your own hand. I figure, if I’m going to have the motivation to do something, I have better things to do than to hurt myself, kill myself, or hurt my friends and family.
The thing that is driving me nuts right now is this – I have no idea whether this is chemical (meds or hormones or the combination), whether I’m legitimately clinically depressed because of my situation and physical state – and if so, what good the Lamictal and Lexapro are doing for me.
Adam wants me to call Dr. Sutherling (my seizure disorder doc) or Amy (my therapist). I want to try to control this on my own… but I guess I’m not doing a good job of it.
What I really don’t understand is that my life is GREAT. I have a comfortable apartment, good food, a loving family and boyfriend, great friends, a JD, a car I own straight out, a cuddly dog, computers, net connections – freakin everything someone could want to have fun at home and to exercise… and somehow, I still wanted to end it.
I wish I could tell you all that I’m through the worst. I certainly hope that I am. I’m just having a horrible time getting the motivation to do anything but sit online and read and write. I don’t feel music inside me. I just don’t see the point in anything I do right now. I’ve now sent out over 50 resumes in the last month, and I had ONE call back… and after a great interview, I still haven’t gotten a second interview.
I think about how many people wish and pray to God for time to do the things they want in their life. ALL that I have is time right now, and I’m just wasting it, aside from this blog. Hell, I don’t even know if this blog is gonna help anyone besides me. I guess if it even does that, it’s worth something.
This cognitive dissonance is really bugging me. I hope it ends soon, and not with me having done something painfully stupid. I’m better than that.