Surprise was the theme for today

I told 3 separate mental health professionals today that I had been in danger of suicide yesterday. You would think that would be a red flag to them that maybe I was in trouble. Would you believe that only one of them offered help to me today when I told him? I'm stunned. I figured all three would ask if I were still suicidal today. Only one did, in a roundabout way. I knew he was wanting to know, though, so that counts in my book as asking. At least he showed he cared. The other 2 didn't. And though I do know that they care for my well-being, I didn't sense it today.

I don't know, maybe it's all in my head. Maybe it's because I'm feeling so disconnected from everyone. It's like I'm in my own little world where nothing penetrates very far.

I'm actually surprised that I'm not feeling suicidal right now. In the past, my pattern has been that once I cross the threshold to actively planning my imminent death, the suicidal thoughts and intent are almost constant for quite a long time. Days, sometimes weeks.

Right now though, all I'm feeling is disconnection, emptiness, and weariness. I feel like I'm on hold, waiting for something. I just don't know what. I'm operating on automatic pilot at this point.

What am I going to do?

Today was a very hard day. I'm faced with a serious decision about choosing life and I'm stuck until I make that decision. I can't do much work on the really important life-changing things until I decide that no matter what I'm going to choose life and all that comes with it. Until then, I'm mostly stuck working on the superficial stuff that I've worked on for the last freaking 18 years. I can't keep doing that. I just can't.

I'm having such a hard time making the decision, even though it's a very simple one. Choose life no matter what or choose death. I just can't seem to let go, however. Suicide has been an option for me off and on (mostly on) since I was 16. This may sound weird, but it's kind of like a security blanket. I always have an option. An out, if things get too bad. In its own way, I think it has helped me through a lot of hard times. Just knowing there was another option for me allowed me not to take it. How will I react to not having that option anymore? Just the thought of losing it terrifies me. I really sound like a crazy person now.

In an earlier post I wrote about having trouble asking for help. I experienced that today. During lunch I was so miserable all I could think about was ending the pain. I didn't have access to any means, which was good because I was feeling very impulsive. I knew I wasn't safe. I kept hoping it would pass. Luckily it did.

I'm no longer in danger, but I'm still in a lot of pain. I don't know whether I should tell my shrink about it or not. I know he wants to know if I'm in danger. He didn't say anything about telling him if I was, but am not now. I was too scared to ask for help or to tell anyone. Too scared of the consequences, of calling attention to myself, even that I was blowing things out of proportion. I'm pathetic.

I'm running out of strength. Something's going to have to change. I can't go on like this much longer.

I have such a strong and urgent need to get away. When asked what I wanted to get away from, my reply was "everything". I feel trapped. I'm suffocating.

I'm not getting much sleep again. I feel like I'm losing my connection to other people. Even hubby. I'm trying desperately to reach out and grab hold of him, but as soon as I let go the feeling of connection is gone. That makes me very sad.

Disorganized thoughts

Well, it's official. My mom is in her apartment. And of all days to move her, Mother's Day. I feel bad that I couldn't get her anything for Mother's Day. I don't know, maybe she saw us finally getting her moved in as her present. That's awful, isn't it? I'm such a bad daughter.

She seemed happy. But I'm ambivalent. I don't really know how I feel about her being gone. I do know that I miss her presence in the house. But at the same time it's not a totally bad thing. I feel more in charge again. More like one of the adults in the house. I don't know if that makes any sense.

I'm having trouble remembering to take my meds. I've missed a few times this past week. I told my doctor about it and he said as long as it isn't 3 straight days in a row I'll be ok. It hasn't been, but I need to be more on top of it. I'm already unstable as it is. I don't need more instability in my life.

This post is jumping all over the place, it seems like. My thoughts are disorganized tonight.

I feel bad that I made my shrink worry about me. I didn't mean to. I thought I was being reassuring that I wasn't in imminent danger. I guess my perception of what I conveyed was way off.

If my thoughts are disorganized, I need to be more on top of taking my meds. I was so good. It wasn't until the day I had my biopsy and missed them that I started having trouble remembering them.

Hubby said he feels really guilty about not doing anything for me for my birthday or Mother's Day. I was so tempted to tell him it's ok, but I didn't. All I said was I understand. That was hard.

I'm very anxious about tomorrow. I'm supposed to get the results of my biopsy. I'm dying to know the answer, but at the same time I'm terrified to find out. It's unreal to think there might be something seriously wrong with me. That just doesn't seem possible.

I feel like I should be posting something important, but what's coming out of my head is nothingness to me. I keep thinking that if I keep typing something will come out worth typing, but it's not working. I give up. I'm going to the store. We're out of some things we need.

Disappointment abounds

Well, I'm home from the Beltane Bash. Actually, we left around 9:30 pm or so. Less than 2 hours after we got there. I'm so disappointed. I thought I was going to get to meet and mingle with a lot of other pagans, but no one said a word to us the whole time we were there. There was supposed to be a lot of dancing, but not many people danced. Most of them just sat at their respective tables looking around the room.

I danced to one song. I did it for 2 reasons. Number one, I really loved the song. Number two, I'd made a promise to myself that I'd dance at this thing. I had a lot of fun dancing. Actually, that was the only fun I had. The rest of the time I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't so disappointed and sad. So why didn't I dance to more than one song? I wanted to. But I wouldn't let myself. I was so inhibited and afraid of looking like a fool that I almost never left my chair. It's almost too bad I wasn't manic. Almost. But I definitely would have been dancing then.

I'd looked forward to the Bash since January! And for it to turn out like this, it's hard for me. It was one of the major things that had kept me out of the hospital. I didn't want to be locked up and miss it. I might as well have not even bothered.

I've had the urge to cut for several days now and it's gotten much stronger the past couple of days. The only reason I didn't was that I didn't want cuts on my arm when I went to the Bash. Well that reason's gone. I want to cut tonight.

I feel so sad and disappointed, but there's also an emptiness. Like I'm shutting down. I'm so tired.

Trouble asking for help

I think my shrink is very worried about me. He wants me to tell him if I need help staying alive and that I'll go inpatient if I feel self-destructive. I've promised him that I will tell him if I need that help. When I made the promise I was confident that I could keep it. But in the middle of the night things are different. Fears are magnified and that confidence is shaken.

There have been countless nights that I have needed that help, but didn't ask. Hearing the pleas from inside to end the suffering and wanting to act on them (and acting on them at times), I would convince myself that I wasn't that bad off. That my pain wasn't important enough or urgent enough to require assistance. That I was either blowing things out of proportion or just trying to get attention.

That's what I've always done my whole life. Trivialize things. Focus on the little things while avoiding the life changing matters that count. Felt so unimportant that I wasn't worth anyone's time or effort. That I was a nuisance or a bother. I'm famous for saying "it's ok, it's not that big of a deal". I don't feel like I deserve help to stay alive. Any help, actually. I feel like I'm taking up valuable resources that other people deserve much more than me. I crave attention so much that my soul is literally screaming for it, yet when attention is actually focused on me all I want to do is shrink away into a corner and hide from it, become invisible. I'm so fucked up it's unbelievable.

Every time I've acted on those pleas was a cry for help. But I always held back, either by not taking a lethal dose of pills or by getting help in time, or both. On the times I got help, I was so embarrassed because I was calling attention to myself. The only reason I actually asked for help was that I was afraid I actually had taken a lethal dose and was going to die when I really didn't want to. The rest of the times I just rode it out, sick as a dog and not telling anyone why. You see, even though I was crying out for help, my belief of not deserving it, along with not wanting to call attention to myself, wouldn't let me voice the cry.

So how do I ask for help now if I need it? My whole life I've purposely avoided asking for the very help my shrink is now wanting me to ask for. Am I even capable of judging whether or not I need that help? Can I step far enough back from the pain and impulse to assess the risk accurately? I recognize how impulsive I am. Will that get in my way? And if I can assess the risk correctly, can I overcome my fears and make the call? So, the question is when the time comes, because I know it will - it always does - will I be able to ask for help to stay alive?

What scares me is I don't know the answer.

Closed off

The moon is full tonight, so it's an Esbat. I was outside feeling wondrous joy in connection with the Goddess when all of a sudden I started to feel so sad. I wanted to curl up into a ball right there on my lawn and sob until there were no tears left to fall. I felt so desolate and alone. I no longer felt the presence of the Goddess and knew I had closed off to her. I tried to open back up to her, but to no avail.

I know things are bad for me when I lose touch with Wicca and nature. I've always been in tune with nature. In fact, when things are at their worst, I'm drawn to it even more. That's why I've been to the lake so much lately. But I haven't gone in over a week, and I can feel the lake pulling me toward it. The pull was very strong tonight. Maybe that's why I closed off to the Goddess. I'm resisting the water's call to my soul.

Door #1 or Door #2?

I feel defeated. I was told that my life will always be an uphill battle, that I'll probably always have suicidal thoughts, that what comes so easy to everyone else will be a lot harder for me, that even to get to that point will take several years of intense work and therapy. Why should I even bother?? So that it will get a little better? Am I supposed to just accept that my life will be a daily struggle until I die? I'm so ANGRY! I have been since yesterday when I was told all this.

Everyone has always told me that medicine and therapy will allow me to live a normal life. So far that hasn't been the case. So was yesterday the first time someone actually told me the truth?? I really wanted someone to convince me that it was possible for me to live a normal life. Not that it wasn't.

So now I have a choice. Do I choose Door #1 - a lifetime of daily struggle, or do I choose Door #2 - say enough is enough and end the struggle? Door #1 means a lifetime of suffering for me but does have rewards. Hubby and the rest of my family and friends, among others. Door #2 ends my suffering, but begins everyone else's.

Today I choose Door #1. Tomorrow I'll make the choice again.

The torment resumes

It's coming back. All of the emotional torment. I can feel it stirring in the back of my brain. This afternoon I sat outside on the porch rather than go inside because I knew there was going to be a huge argument with lots of yelling. Yelling scares me. A lot. So I took my shrink's advice and I took myself out of the situation. Well, that's what I've been telling myself. In actuality, I was cowering in fear on the porch because I was simply too afraid to go inside.

That miraculous phenomenon of mental pain going away when physical pain exists isn't so miraculous when it ends. It just leaves you wanting more of it. So I'm left with a major urge to cut to bring back the pain and send the emotions into the void where I won't have to feel them for a while. Oh I still hurt from the biopsy, but it's fading to a dull ache, which leaves my mind free to pick up where it left off.

It was so nice to have a break from them. To not have to feel all of the torment, anguish, struggle and duality, the pain. I know I use those words a lot, and I don't feel they really capture or describe what I feel, but they're all I can come up with at the moment.

I want to run away. I want to stop being me. I want to have a life that's not filled with all of the above. I know I can't have any of that, and I know that's part of what's tearing me apart. I just don't know how to stop wanting it.

It's funny how that happens

It's amazing how you can be so distracted by physical pain that you mostly forget the severe mental pain you've been in. (I guess that's why I have the habit of cutting.) Why am I in physical pain, you ask? No, I didn't cut. I had to have a bone marrow biopsy yesterday. I'm still hurting from that, but it's not too bad. Nothing Advil can't take care of.

I was so scared in the hospital. But as scared as I was of standing up for myself to the staff, I was more afraid of the pain of the biopsy. So I stood up for myself and was adamant that I wanted sedation. No "just a local" for this girl! I got what I wanted and I don't remember a thing. I do remember the anesthesiologist, though. He was really nice. I felt safe with him.

Well, I would write more, but I think instead I'll just go lay down and rest. I'm hurting more in this chair than I was on the couch.

Dangling from the ledge

I want to run away. As fast and as far as I can.

I'm dangling from the ledge and little by little my fingers are slipping. I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

You know how when your skin is burned it's much more sensitive and everything hurts more than usual? Even a breeze will make those damaged nerves stand up and scream. That's me since Friday.

I need to go to the lake. I haven't in several days. I need to be closer to the water and nature.

Mock Halloween and primal urges

I'm loving this weather! It feels like October. Like Halloween. Very strange weather for the southern U.S. for this time of year. But you know what? Weather-wise, Halloween is one of my favorite times of the year. I want to take this weather into my soul and never let it go.

I'm feeling reckless, daring. Very sexual. I want to take risks. Experience pleasure.

I'm feeling impish. This weather is making me feel so primal. I can't explain it. Perhaps because I'm so intertwined with the Goddess and the Earth. With all of nature, actually.

I'll probably go driving down the road to the lake. That's a wonderful road to drive with the windows down when you have perfect weather.

Un-special birthday

This was just about the worst birthday I think I've ever had.

The only gift given to me today was a boquet of roses by my stepson's girlfriend. I was very touched.

Yesterday my mom had me take her to the store where she bought my birthday present. Well, I picked it out, put it in the cart, brought it home, and brought it in the house. The only thing mom did was pay for it. So it really wasn't like a birthday present at all. I didn't even get it on my birthday. But maybe I'm just being unreasonable. She did get me a nice card, though.

No gift at all from hubby. Not even a card.

No birthday cake either.

I was hoping at least for a special dinner out somewhere. No such luck. At 8:30 I finally ended up going to a fast food place to get supper for everyone because I was so hungry my stomach hurt. To top it all off, it was cold and raining pretty hard on the way to get the food.

I was so miserable and crying so hard that I could barely see the road in front of me. Once I got there I called and left a message for my therapist. I was hurting so much and I wanted to hear her voice so bad, even though I knew she wouldn't be there. I don't even remember what I said in my message to her. I felt so alone.

When I saw those roses today, I wanted to cry because someone that wasn't even family had done more than anyone else to show they thought my birthday was special. No one else made me feel that way. Never before have I had a birthday where I didn't feel special. I didn't feel special at all today. It made me so sad.

Turbulence

I'm feeling a lot right now. Angry, overwhelmed, sad - those are the main feelings. I want to scream, cry, cut, throw things, break things!

I don't know if I want to be 34! All 34 means is that for 18 years no one has helped me. That's all it means. That I've just suffered another year of torment. It really is just proof that nothing has worked for me and nothing will.

I'm not even halfway through my life! I can't go through the rest of my life this way. They say you can do anything. After all, what other choice do you have? There is always another choice.

How can I possibly have gone from 16 to 34 and NOT gotten any better?? Not only haven't I gotten better, I've actually gotten worse! It doesn't make sense!

Right now any little thing is too much. I don't feel like I can handle anything. I hate this!

Enduring spirit or cold reminder?

I'm 34 today. I'm not sure how I feel about it. Part of me is surprised I made it to 34. Part of me is afraid that I'm facing another possible 34 years of this torment. Then there's the little kid part of me that's happy and excited because it's my birthday and that's my day - no one else's. And I'll admit it - the presents are very cool. :-)

It being my birthday and all, I feel like reflecting. I never expected to make it this far. Every year I expect that I'll be dead before my next birthday. And somehow every year another birthday comes and goes and I'm still here. Talk about a testament to the power of the human spirit - to endure such pain and suffering year after year and still find a way to continue on. However, due to the duality I'm experiencing lately, I also see the flip side. That instead of it being a testament of the enduring spirit, it's a cold hard reminder that things will never change for me. I've seen myself go from 16 to 34 without change in the turmoil and pain. That is not a good thing, and does not predict a happy future.

This last year was a very hard one for me. My dad died, my Mom moved in with me, I experienced suicidal depressions and the highest of manias, not to mention this current mixed episode. Many changes and fluctuations. For over a solid year my life has been in chaos, and has yet to settle down.

Which path to take?

I can feel deep inside that I'm all out of strength and I know I need them to take over for me.

However, now I have another foe. I got my lab work back. My white count is still way too high. It hasn't changed at all in these past 3 weeks. Whispers of leukemia drift in the background. That scares me.

But these new feelings I have toward my bipolar scare me too.

So now the question is: which do I focus on? Do I put what energy I have left into my mental health or physical health? Because I'll be totally honest with you - I don't have the strength or energy to do both. Maybe not even one at this point. My reserves are all tapped out.

What do I do? Hubby and my friend say to focus on the bipolar. I'm afraid to not focus on the other. What if not focusing on it makes it worse? And if I focus on the other, I'm afraid the bipolar will win. It's already so close anyways.

I don't know what to do, and to ask those who can advise would automatically put me on the bipolar path. Maybe that's the one I should choose. It certainly is the more dangerous of the two since I've lost my will and faith, I would think. But then again, I'm not a medical doctor, so how am I supposed to know the other isn't just as dangerous, just in a different way.

My fears are going around in circles. I'm not going to get anywhere tonight. I think I just need to keep walking in the direction I was already pointed and see what happens from there. Maybe they can help me be more comfortable with that decision.

Elusivity defined

I finally defined what's been so elusive these past few days. I've lost 2 things:

1) the will to fight
2) the faith that my bipolar will get better

I need both of those to survive this illness. Otherwise I'll just lay down and die. Which is what I'm willing to do at this point, and I don't like it at all.

I want to be clear on something. I'm NOT suicidal. I have no visions or plans to overdose on meds or shoot myself with one of hubby's guns. I don't want to die. I want to live. And I believe in order to live, I need to get those 2 things back that I lost. I just don't know how to do that.

All I can hope is that they don't lock me up. I'm not in imminent danger. I'm not even suicidal. The only thing I am is if I were knocked down onto a railroad track with a train coming, I wouldn't care about getting back up. Is that enough to lock me up? I don't know. This is new territory for me.

Too high a price

I've decided to risk the loony bin. I need help desperately, and the only way to convince them how dire it is, is to tell them how dire it is.

I don't want to die. In fact, I want to live very much. There's so much in this world that I love. I don't want to lose any of it. That's why I'm going to talk to my shrink on Wednesday. I'm going to be upfront and honest about these feelings. Actually go to them instead of waiting for them to ask and then dance around the question out of fear. I'm going to go to them because I know deep down that if I don't get help soon, I won't be around much longer. And I very much want to be around. I've talked to hubby. He wants me to ask for help, too.

This change that occurred the other night in my thinking is so elusive. I can barely explain it to myself, let alone anyone else. The closest I can come is this: I want to live. But if the price of living is all this mental pain, then the price is too high. I've gotten nothing but empty promises for 16 years, the pain for 18 years. If someone can't help me, can't convince me that in 50 years I won't be exactly the same, then enough is enough. I'm done.

That's why I'm telling my shrink. I don't want to get to that point where I'm out of options. I already feel like I'm speeding there crazy fast. And this time, out of options is for real.

Will I risk the loony bin?

I'm scared. Scared of my life actually ending, although I know that's the survival instinct. Scared of the end hurting. Scared that if I'm honest with my shrink on Wednesday that he'll have me hospitalized. I'm scared of being in that place. I've been there once before and it wasn't nice.

Do I really want to say anything that will risk my freedom? I could actually end up on 1 on 1 in there. And I thought I had no privacy before. Also, there's no therapy in that place. Only locked doors and watching eyes. What's to change my mind about everything while I'm in there? And if I don't change my mind, how long will they hold me?

I wouldn't be able to see my shrink, therapist, or doctor. The look on hubby's face when he visits me in that place makes me want to cry for doing that to him. It breaks my heart. Do I want to do that to him again?

If I get thrown in there, I've already decided I would want everyone to be told, including hubby, that it's to get my meds adjusted.

The Whole World and no privacy anywhere

I'm feeling very sad and angry. Why did this happen to me? Why couldn't I be happy and normal? Why was I singled out for a life of misery?

I went out to the lake about an hour ago, about midnight or so. I was going to cut my arm while I listened to the sounds of the water lapping against the dock. Unfortunately, there's only 1 light pole out there (which is nowhere near the dock) and the moon is just a sliver, so it was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing.

So I drove around for at least an hour looking for somewhere that's lit but private so I could cut. I can't do it here at home - no privacy. The only place that I could find was too close to a parking lot where there were some police.

I could just see it... Officer: "What were you planning on doing with these utility blades?" Me: "Cut my arm" Officer: "We're going to have to take you in to be evaluated" And just like that, off to the hospital! Great! :-(

Personal Truth

Last night I finally admitted something to myself: I don't care if I die. I know that's been rolling around in my head for several days now, since it was first pointed out to me. But something's changed about what that idea means to me. I don't know if I can even put it into words.

When I was first asked if I would care if something happened to me, I said no. But my answer was cavalier. I meant it, but it wasn't coming from the core of my being. I've thought a lot about that conversation since then. And I've really taken a look inside myself. Last night I realized that now it really is coming from the core of my being.

It's weird. The struggle inside is gone. I'm calm. I would still rate very high on the depression scale that I do for CBT, but the inner turmoil is gone. Once I accepted, truly accepted, that knowledge last night, I felt this peace descend over me. I've never felt anything like it.

My birthday is on Friday and the pagan gathering/party that I've been looking forward to since January is on the 13th. I don't want to miss either of those things. So I'm going to keep quiet for a while. Let this new level of understanding soak in.

In the meantime, I'm going to enjoy the things I love. Being at the lake, listening to the birds and my fountain, watching the wind blow the trees. I'll spend time with hubby and show him how much I love him. I'll cuddle with my sweet cat. Watch a sunset, eat some chocolate, listen to music.

Even though I don't even have anything in mind with regards to my future, when I wrote that last paragraph I felt like I was listing the things I'll be saying goodbye to. I got a little sad. I guess that shows how much my thoughts have changed. It's real to me now. The illusions are all gone.