Another Blog Post About Suicide

I've been sitting here for awhile now, staring at the blank white computer screen with the black cursor blinking at me, waiting for me to type my thoughts on this blog where I have been coming for many years. I'm struggling to put my emotions into words and to make sense of what I'm feeling in the aftermath of the death of Robin Williams. The dialogue on social media has been heartbreaking for me, and for the most part I have kept my distance because it opens up wounds that I'm trying to heal. I have been held in the vice like grip of depression. Twice I attempted to take my own life, and both times I was angry that I didn't succeed. At the time, I certainly could not see my own worth, and believed my husband and children would be better off without me. I had slowly been trying to starve myself for years, so once I had become nutritionally stable and weight restored, I had a whole new ball of wax to begin to deal with, and the descent into hell came quickly. I had numbed all of my emotions through my eating disorder, so on top of dealing with a new body, I was also being bombarded by emotions I had never before allowed. I was seeing a therapist, but I couldn't tell her or anyone else  about my continuous thoughts of wanting to end my life. I tried hard to go to work everyday with a smile on my face, although I felt I was drowning in quick sand, and the effort it took to get through each day became more and more excruciating. You cannot simply tell someone to see their own value, and expect that to happen. Life is not that simple or cut and dried. I'm not a role model, like a few people have suggested, merely because I survived. I didn't want to live, and for months after my attempts, I did not want to be here. I was far from grateful that I was alive. To tell you the truth, I have no idea when I made a conscious decision to live my life, and I certainly didn't do it alone. It was such a painstakingly slow process that I didn't even recognize that the thoughts were dwindling away. I do know that it is damaging for people to hear that suicide is selfish and cowardly. It shuts down communication, and makes it even more difficult for someone who is suffering from suicidal thoughts to reach out. It was the very reason that I couldn't reach out, so if any good is to come from the passing of Robin Williams, I hope it sheds more light on the subject of suicide and mental health, so that more sufferers will get the help they need.  I wish I could tell you that the thought of suicide never crosses my mind, but I would be lying. We all pass judgment at times, and we are all selfish at times, but if we can at least try to be compassionate and understanding, and truly look at where our fear and anger is coming from, this world would be a better place to live. Did anyone else need to write a blog post on this subject? Probably not, but did I need to get these thoughts out of my mind? Yes, I did, and I now feel like I can breathe a bit deeper. 

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable." ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh  ~from"Gift From The Sea"

*If you or anyone you know is in need of help please call The National Suicide Hotline 

1-800-273-TALK(8255)

Therapy Tales

I have been writing on this blog for about six years now, and I rarely go back through old posts, but I was looking for a poem, and came across a post that I had written a few days before my first suicide attempt. I shared it with my therapist this week. I cannot even count the number of times that she has told me that if I didn't allow myself to feel pain, I would also be unable to feel joy. I wasn't sure that I believed her, but I now realize that all of my suffering was caused by my attempts to deny my feelings. My feelings often overwhelm me, and the depth of my emotions can be frightening, but I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful that she didn't give up on me, because she was right...even with the pain, there is an abundance of joy, and I'm blessed to still be here to feel every bit of it. 

Here is the post that I wrote~

I step through your door, into the safe familiarity of pictures and books...the window where I've watched the rain and snow, protected from the bright glare of the sun chasing after me. We have talked, and sat in silence while you wait for my words, of which I've run out. I nod when you speak, agreeable and compliant, because my decision is to resign. I've tried to tell you, but you won't give up, when I've all but begged you to, and yet I continue to cast shadows on your floor. 

"I will believe for you, until you can believe on your own," 

you say with such compassion that my throat constricts, and I cannot seem to swallow so much pain. I tell you that I feel an overwhelming need to apologize. I call you on the phone, but you say that you cannot work with me like this. I'm a petulant child, an angry adolescent, and you refuse to play my games. I'm sorry that I do this, that I reach for you, and then become volatile when you attempt to help me. I reach, I push, I run, I hide, and every week I return to the shelter of you, because I'm afraid that if I don't show up, I'll lose all sense of time. 

You are the touch point within the moments, hours, days that get lost, hoping that you will find me before I fade away. 

You Are The Answer

I'm moved and amazed by how we touch others;

how we pass throughout our days unaware of the impact we make, 
and how even the simplest of gestures can change the course of a day. 

When we are in pain, and filled with despair, 

we don't realize how we would be missed. 

Imagine believing that our pain was endless...

how do we ask someone to stay? 

How do we find the will to keep going when all we can see is darkness ahead? 

It is difficult for someone who hasn't felt such infinite hopelessness to understand wanting to end your own life. 

I lived in silence for so long, 

turning away from all that I didn't want to see. 

I would awaken each morning, and before I even had a chance to grasp the light, 

shame would wash over me, and it took everything I had inside to face the day. 

My suicide attempts were planned, and yet also impulsive.

 I would obsessively think of ways to end my life, 

allowing the thoughts of nothingness to comfort me. 

Those thoughts never included who I would be leaving behind, 

or what I had yet to accomplish. 

Yes, it was selfish. 

Pain is not rational...

It is exhausting.

I'm grateful for all of the arms that reached out to pull me back to shore 
when I was drowning. 

I didn't realize how much I wanted to live, 

or what living would even mean; 

I believed that I was deeply flawed, and broken beyond repair.
Healing shame and believing in my value is an ongoing process,
but I am worthy of the effort.
We all are deserving of joy.

We are here for boundless reasons we will never fully understand. 

Our lives, 

no matter how short our time here on earth, 
touches...
reaching beyond our limited comprehension, 

in an everlasting circle that expands outward, 

embracing eternity. 

"If you are falling...dive. Find a place inside where there's joy, and the joy will burn out the pain. Life has no meaning. Each of us has meaning and we bring it to life. It is a waste to be asking the questions when you are the answer." 

~Joseph Campbell

Unstable

After a sleepless Monday night, yesterday was rough. I felt so wound up, tense, and exhausted that I could barely make it through work. I hadn't eaten all day, and when I did get home from work and actually wanted something to eat, there was nothing in the house. My husband went to the store later, but by then I was past the hunger, so I ended up not eating anything. Food is so hard and complicated right now. I'm rigid in what I will eat, and things that I used to be okay with all of a sudden seem scary. I was at least eating a protein bar for lunch, but now having one seems like too many calories. I feel like I can only eat one item per day, and that would be oatmeal at the moment. I'm on the verge of panic most of the time, and my mind seems to jump all over the place. I can barely hold on to one thought before another one rushes in, and everything feels like it's going so fast. Last night I did get some sleep, but I had a dream that I tried to commit suicide by electrocuting myself. I don't feel suicidal though, so I'm not really worried about it. I'm looking forward to my therapy session tomorrow. My therapist has been out of town and I feel a bit lost when she is gone. I rarely talk to her between sessions, but she is one of my safety nets when I'm feeling unstable, and I've definitely not been my best lately. Well, I guess that is all for now. I hope everyone is having a wonderful week.

Not Scared Enough

You would think that summer would be the hardest time of year for me. I was raped the summer that I was eleven, and though it is hard, autumn and winter are the worst. I remember going back to school, the smells in the air, the feel of the wind, and trying to forget. This time of year brings back the pain of holding it all inside. It brings back the fear that everyone would discover my secret and be disgusted when they looked at me. I can still feel the filth crawling on my skin, and I wish more than anything, that I was not here. I want to close my eyes and be able to disappear. It's not that I'm necessarily suicidal, although both attempts have been in the winter, and my eating dwindles down to nothing. Maybe I only want to escape from being me, and of knowing that people will hurt you. I don't want to remember. Both of my attempts were meant to obliterate the memories, and at the time, I didn't contemplate the finality of death. I still don't. Most of the time I choose to forget that I'm slowly killing myself, and my health is failing. I ignore the osteoporosis, the skipped heartbeats, and my screwed up digestive system. My therapist tried to scare me today, and the tough love hurts and makes me angry at the same time. How dare she care, and make me feel guilty for hurting those who love me. I get mad at everyone around me, and for what? For loving me when I can't love myself? It all sounds so easy when everyone tells me that I need to take care of myself. Just eat...it is only food...go to the kitchen, try not to think about it, and do it. My therapist said that she thinks her words roll off of me like teflon. I hear them, but I can't find enough energy to put them into action. To say I'm tired is an understatement. To say I don't really care is the truth. I scare myself a little, but not enough. Not enough to find the strength to take care of me.

Scarlet

This is from a song by Brook Fraser, that I just love. The lyrics express many of the feelings that I've been going through in the past month.

Scarlet

Middle of nowhere

finally you can breathe

Nobody knows your name

It's easier that way.

Shut your eyes tightly

Clench your fists

until they almost bleed

Cautiously, lightly

gently expose

what's underneath~

and all you feel now

is the scarlet in the day

and even if it's real

you can't stay~

so there you go

you're gone for good.

Yes, there you go

you're gone for good

Your mind is swollen

from months of thought

without release.

They've taken

their toll on you.

and this very moment

of timid and fragile honesty

is precious and rare,

and fleeting~

and all you feel now

is the scarlet in the day.

and even if it's real,

you can't stay.

You can't stay.

Brooke Fraser

This Is It

I feel fat, but my therapist is always telling me that fat is not a feeling. I still don’t comprehend her words. I think that real feelings are foreign to me. I had a bad scare with my nutritionist last night. She received my labs from the hospital, and I knew that my heart was skipping, and blood pressure and potassium low, but she said it was so low and I was so dehydrated that my kidneys could shut down and make my heart stop beating. That was a real wake up call to get my shit together and start eating. Since I've been home, Dave has been making me sit down to eat lunch with him. He also wants me to drink V8 Fusion for breakfast. I was eating dinner most of the time even before the hospital, so that hasn't changed. The first day home, I tried refusing to eat, but Dave came over and sat down next to me, and told me that it really wasn't a choice. He said he was sick of continually going through this, and that he was afraid that I was going to die. I couldn't even get angry at him. He is right. It's not fair to my family to have them watch me slowly killing myself. My body has not ingested this much food in quite awhile, and it's causing my stomach a lot of problems. I'm also very stressed and anxious about eating so much more than I'm used to. I really felt happy with my one small meal a day. Last night I almost cried about how much my stomach hurt, and also about the increase in my food intake. I'm so afraid that I will get fat, when I was just beginning to feel comfortable about my weight. Once I go back to work, which is this Monday, my choices for lunch are to drink a Boost supplemental drink, or have Dave come eat lunch with me everyday. I hate to have him do that because I only get a 30 minute lunch, and also the school that I work at isn't very close to our home. It would really be such an inconvenience to him, so I will drink the Boost.
I'm glad that I took this week off of work. I got out of the hospital on Monday, and I started the out-patient addiction recovery program Wednesday evening. It is three nights a week for about four weeks. I'm also still keeping all of my other therapy appointments, and also I will start working with a new therapist who specializes in Dissociative Identity Disorder. On top of all that, I still have to work full time. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed with everything, but I'm also determined to do the work that is involved in recovering. I have so much ahead of me, but last week I didn't even care or want anything to be ahead of me. I must do this. I'm not giving myself any other choice. This is it.

Hard Times

I'm not really sure that I'm up to blogging right now, but I'm going to give it a shot.
I've been struggling with some severe depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I dissociated on Wednesday night, and I guess that I went on a drinking binge, which I don't remember at all. My husband took me into the hospital and they admitted me to the psych ward for a five day stay. I've also relapsed with my eating disorder which has me feeling sad, depressed and guilty. I'm so ashamed about the worry that I've caused my family. I want to turn things around. I'm going to go to an outpatient addiction recovery program. It is three times a week for a few weeks. Maybe that will help with the drinking. I know that I need all of the support I can get.
I started on a new medication for depression, and hopefully that will help. I'm going to make a huge effort to eat better, so that I can get on the right track. I know that eating more will also help with the depression. I'm going to do everything that I can to start feeling better. My family deserves better than this, and so do I.

To Dream...

I'm still on vacation, and enjoying every lazy minute of it. Today I got out of bed at 10:00, and then found myself napping an hour later! It was a wonderful nap though, and I dreamt of biking through a beautiful forest with my husband. Dreams are funny, aren't they? We haven't been on bikes in years, and my husband's biking days are over since the brain tumor, but the dream was soothing, and now I feel very well rested. I'm also grateful to be alive...to dream.
Last January, I was in the darkest depression of my life. I look back, and cannot even tell you about the holidays or what I did during that time. I was in a deep pit, and could not find my way out. The only option I could see at the time was to get out. I only wanted an end to the pain, and I had lost my will to fight anymore. After the suicide attempt, it took months before I could see any glimmers of hope and light. There were many moments of anger that I had failed, and I still have guilt about those feelings, and the many people that I hurt. I do worry about this relapse with the eating disorder. There are times when I wonder if this is somehow a more passive form of suicide. I can honestly say that I do not want to die, and that I'm grateful for each and every breath that I take. I'm not much for making new years resolutions, but I do resolve this year to kick this eating disorder to the curb, once and for all. I have too much to live for.

The Dressing Room Demon

The last time I went to try on clothes, afterwards, I decided to take my own life. A bit drastic, but nevertheless, that is what happened. Anorexia, weight gain, and mirrors do not play well together nicely. That incident was back in January when I desperately needed new clothes to fit my new body. It is now the end of May, and I still have avoided going shopping for new clothes. That is until yesterday afternoon, when my mom came into town from Florida. She was insistent, and I was plain terrified. One of the mistakes that I had made last time, was going alone, but I also didn't want anyone else to see. To see what? My pain, my failure, the sizes that I would have to buy. My reflection in that dressing room to me, was like looking into a fun house mirror, and all that I could feel was shame, horror, and disgust. I cannot even begin to describe the panic that I felt. I knew that I would have to have someone with me to ground me, and that was what my mom did. She was all business, non judgemental, and very gentle and patient with me, and in the end, I walked out with some new clothes. I won't lie...there were a few tears, and the mirror still is a harsh critic, but I somehow managed to conquer the dressing room demon. In the last session with my nutritionist, I was telling her how unhappy I am with my weight and my body, and she said, "I understand that, but can you tolerate it for now?" I wasn't exactly sure of where she was going with that, but now I think that I do. It is about accepting where I am at the moment. Maybe not always liking it, but being present, and the key word for me here is living with it. I am alive, and life is too short to not wear cute clothes!

School's Out

Well, the last day of school has finally arrived, and I'm so excited about my summer off that I can barely contain myself! This past week has been so busy for me. We made it through Christian's graduation, but just barely. It was a frustrating evening. He had a girlfriend over that afternoon, and he took her home and then didn't arrive back until a half hour before he was supposed to be at the school. He got ready, and we were so rushed that we couldn't take pictures before we left. We drove all the way to the school and then Christian realized that he didn't have his gown, so we had to drive all the way back home to get it. Dave and I were about ready to kill him! We made it through though, and now he is officially a high school graduate. He still has a lot of growing up to do. I'm glad that he isn't going away to college yet, because I know that he just isn't ready for that.
All this week, my friend Jackie has been here visiting from Florida. She drove her Harley all the way here, and we had such a good time. She is someone that I actually met through Myspace, and we just connected with each other. She has recovered from an eating disorder, and is such an inspiration to me. When I would think that it was impossible to recover, I would always think of her, and know that it could be done.
Right now, I see the whole summer stretching out before me, and I'm so relieved to be finished with work for awhile. It was a really rough year emotionally, and hard to work through all of it. Going to work the week after my suicide attempt, and then working through months of depression was so difficult. I'm not even sure how I made it, but I'm grateful that I did, and now I'm doing so much better. The depression has lifted, and although the eating disorder still rears it's ugly head, I'm in a good place right now. I'm so ready to enjoy this summer and make the most of it.

Possibilities

This weekend went by so fast, but I suppose that they always do. I have felt calm and relaxed for the past few days, and that is such a welcomed feeling from all of the anxiety and dread that has been washing over me for months. I'm determined to hang on to my hopefullness. This will always be the year that I attempted to take my own life, and I never again want to travel to such a dark and lonely place. I really am trying to take each day as it comes, to let go of the past, and not worry so much about what the future holds. I'm beginning to feel a sense of freedom...as if a great weight has been lifted from me, and although that sounds so cliche', it is an apt description.
This school year is winding down, and I'm really getting excited about having the summer off, even though we really don't have any special plans yet. I have this great need for organization and self improvement lately, and summer will give me more free time to devote to those things. Right now, everything feels possible.

A Family Therapy Session

I'm bored and grumpy right now. I wanted to watch a movie tonight, but Dave rented some World War 2 movie, which doesn't interest me in the least. I just bought a book called Still Alice by Lisa Genova, which is about a woman with early onset Alzheimers disease, so I guess I will try to start reading that tonight. The problem is that lately I have zero concentration and so much on my mind that my thoughts tends to wander when I read. It really sucks because I used to love to get lost inside of a book.

Tomorrow we have a family therapy session, and I'm really nervous about it. The kids don't totally understand what happened the night of my suicide attempt, so we are going to answer any questions that they have. I'm going to be honest and tell them that I took an overdose of pills. My therapist said to explain to them that some bad things happened to me when I was younger and that I was hurting and in a lot of pain, and that I just wanted that pain to go away. I want to let them know that I love them so much, and I never wanted to leave them. I want them to understand that it had nothing to do with the amount of love that I have for them. At the time, I wasn't thinking clearly and all that I wanted was to stop hurting. I know that they will have many questions, and I want to be prepared for what they have to ask me. I hope that I will have clear answers that they will understand. More than anything, I hope that they can forgive me. I'm going to see my therapist an hour before our family session, so hopefully that will help to prepare me. I'm scared, apprehensive, ashamed and feeling very raw and vulnerable. I want to turn off my mind and stop thinking for awhile. I haven't been sleeping very well the past few night, and my emotions are so close to the surface. I feel like I could cry at the drop of a hat. I thought that I was going to cry when Dave came home and told me what movie he had rented. That is just so ridiculous and frustrating because the tears have nothing what so ever to do with a damn movie! I'm so glad that I have this blog. It really helps me so much to write out some of what is going on in my head. So,anyway...wish me luck tomorrow. I think that I will just be intensly relieved when it is over. Then I think that I can finally move past this horrible mistake that I have made.

The Path Forward

Every day I wake up with a sense of fear and dread, but I can't really pin down any reasons for why I feel this way. In fact I have many feelings that I seem unable to explain. On Saturday, I was feeling so sad, and then out of the blue came feelings of agitation and anger which I ended up taking out on some dishes that I was washing. These feelings come bubbling up to the surface and then I'm not sure what to do with them. The anger confuses me because it has no direction in which to go, and I don't want to take it out on my family, so I end up turning it inward. Maybe I just need a sturdy punching bag and some boxing gloves! Each day that I get through is a victory at this point. The thoughts of self harm are still there, but I'm able to push them down by thinking of my children and those I love. They are what keep me going right now. What scares me is the fact that my suicide attempt was impulsive and brought on by fear and panic. Yes, I had those thoughts before my attempt, but I never believed that I could actually ever carry those thoughts into action. Maybe that is where the sense of fear and dread come from. I'm afraid that I don't know how to live. I'm trying though. I'm trying to eat, although it has been difficult because I don't have an appetite at all. I'm also trying to get regular exercise because I know that it does help with the depression. My psychiatrist changed my meds, so now along with the Abilify, I'm also taking Lamictal, which is used as a mood stabilizer in treating bipolar disorder. It is supposed to help with the depression, so I'm really hoping that it does. I'm not worked up to a therapeutic dose yet, so it is hard to know if it is going to help. Work has been okay. My concentration and focus aren't all there, but it does seem greatly improved compared to last week, which actually seems like a blur to me now. My brother sent me a card yesterday, and in it, he wrote, "Sometimes you have to take one step backwards so you can see the path that goes forward." So, I will keep moving forward, even if it is only one baby step at a time.

Home Sweet Home

...So I took an entire bottle of Xanax(60 pills) and ended up in the ICU, and then on the psychiatric floor of a hospital for 6 days. If I'm nothing else, I am honest here in this blogging world, and that is why I have been missing in action for the past week. Definitely not my proudest moment, and something that I will regret for the rest of this life that I have been so privileged to live. A panic attack, depression, and anxiety got the better of me, and I behaved irrationally and impulsively. I had a panic attack while trying on clothes during a shopping trip. I went home feeling hopeless, defeated, and filled with thoughts of self loathing and disgust. I don't remember it, but I did reach out to my therapist by e-mail and told her that I had taken an overdose. She contacted my husband, who then took me to the emergency room. Suicide is such a selfish act, and I feel sick about hurting and worrying my family and friends in this way. I never meant to hurt anyone else in this...I just wanted the pain to end. I have had a lot of time to think while in the hospital, and I never plan on attempting anything like this ever again. I want to be stronger than this eating disorder and depression, and strong enough to bury the pain of the past. I have been given a second chance, and I plan on making the most of it...Here and now...One day at a time.

Only An Illusion

I dream of my body in it's prior anorexic state, and in the dream, I'm happy, giddy, laughing with joy, and then I awaken to how I feel now, which is worn down, lethargic, and sick. For a moment, I buy into the illusion, but it doesn't take me long to realize that it is only Claudia, trying to sink her claws into my sleeping world because she has lost so much of her hold on me while I'm awake. Anorexia is what has broken down my body and my spirit, and now I'm fighting to gain back not only my health, but my life. There are still so many moments when I think that my life isn't worth saving, and those are the moments when I have to put my loved ones ahead of myself. I may not feel like I am worth fighting for, but I will fight to stay here for them.

Always.

All-American Girl

All-American Girl

I read about her
silent perfection
in the library
at lunchtime
Filled with
laughing girls
The crude
language
of boys

Behind
opened books
a dark mind
She, who has
everything
held
in her
pristinely
manicured
fingers
that tremble
with
jumbled colors
bouncing
in the palm
of her hand

Because
all she can
ever hear
is Fur Elise
ringing
in her ears

Angela Minard 2008

It's Not Too Late

Peaceful And Rested

The last thing that I remember from last night was sitting in our big leather chair reading a magazine, and drinking hot cocoa. This morning I woke up in my bed at 7:30, rested, and though still emotional, ready to face my demons, and deal with them. I cannot believe how often I just burst into tears, but fighting them is harder than just letting them flow, so just screw makeup and mascara for awhile.

Last night I was talking to my friend Jackie, and she said something about trying to go to Renfrew without the mask that I wear. That just really struck me, because I do hide sometimes behind all of my clothes and makeup. The attempts at perfection are part of this disorder, and I never really realized that before. I'm not going to go cold turkey, but I'm going to use a very light hand today, and see how it goes.

I'm going to try and pack as light as possible. There is so much that is hard. I thought to myself, "do I pack my "fat" clothes?" How much weight will I gain, and how am I going to be okay with that? Yes, I realize that I'm underweight at this point, but it has been worse, and I hope that I can say when I've reached my own maximum comfortable weight.

Anyway... I'm taking lots of pictures, notebooks, scrapbook supplies, gel pens, stickers, my beads so that I can make jewelry, and at least 2 journals, because I'm sure that I will be writing like a mad woman! I'm also taking my mini lava lamp! I never lived in the dorms in college or anything, so I'm sort of looking forward to having a roomate, and hopefully bonding with a group of women, as strange as that may sound. I have an open mind. I'm ready and willing to do the work and turn my life around in the direction that it was meant to be. I'm allowed to bring my computer which is so great! I won't have it all of the time, but once you move up to a certain level, they will allow you to use it at designated times. I will be able to let everyone know how I'm doing. I'm going to work on the manuscript for my poetry book. I'm sure that I will have many new poems to add while I'm there!

Last night I seriously thought about suicide. Just ending all of the pain. I had the pills in my hand, and then my oldest son came down from his room, and said "I love you mommy." He still calls me mommy! Today is his seventeenth birthday. What an awful birthday he would have had if I had taken those pills. Today, I'm so glad that I didn't.