Who I Am Makes A Difference

I hate my attitude at the moment.

I say this because I was two seconds away from typing “I hate my life.”

Of course, earlier this morning, I also said that I was going to kill myself, and I was entertaining thoughts of it again.

I thought I was done with that part of my life. I know I don’t want to die. I know I don’t want it to be my my hand, at least. There’s a part of me that wonders if I’ve lost the will to live…

but I don’t believe it. I stayed here today. I stay here this moment despite the pain.

I stay here for myself, but today I stayed for Adam because I couldn’t remember any other reason to stick around.

One of the things that is horrible about MS is that sometimes you just can’t remember things you really need to remember… like coping techniques. So, one of the things that I need to do for myself is to get together my list – my reasons why life is worth living, and the steps that I need to take, or that I need Adam or a friend to take if I come to them and let them know that I’m having suicidal thoughts.

See, that’s the kind of stuff that I never thought I’d forget. You don’t spend time in therapy learning coping techniques against suicidal ideation or compulsion only to expect that in the time of need, that *poof* all those years of daily work won’t have mattered for shit, except that you made sure to tell someone.

You know, when I was in high school, my mom gave me a blue ribbon that said in gold letters “Who I Am Makes A Difference.” and I stuck it on the mirror in my bedroom. When she gave it to me, it came with a sheet that explained all about the campaign behind it. Apparently the campaign still exists.

Some days, it’s enough for me that I stick around and exist to write in this journal in the hopes that it helps others who are in similar situations feel less alone. So, I guess, in the end, I took the step that really mattered, because I talked it out and didn’t kill myself, and I’m here to write this lovely entry.

Anyway, I’ve spent this whole day being miserable and in pain for no other reason than that I doubt Dr. G will put me on steroids even if I need them, firstly, and secondly, I’m always so shy to call doctors on the weekend because I think of my family and I don’t want to take them away from theirs.

Amazing how considerate I can be to my doctor, while I’m ready to be so inconsiderate to myself, huh? *huff* One thing at a time, huh?

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