Desperation

When some body commits suicide the people around them respond as if it was a personal attack on them. "I am so angry! How selfish of John Doe to go and kill himself!" or "Jane Doe was a pussy! She took the easy way out." When I was around 22 years of age, I became so depressed and lost. I was married and had a child. My little sister lived with me and my husband and daughter. I was not yet in therapy, along way from even knowing that I had a need for help. My husband was abusive and we fought all the time. I spent so much time just trying to understand why I felt so sad and so lost. There was no one in my life that I could talk to about anything especially my emotions. I don't think the people around me tolerated any or had a use for them in others. I was supposed to be like a productive robot. They decided that I was a problem based on my depression state. As I soul searched, I came to the conclusion that I had failed at everything and had disappointed or disgusted the people I loved. My kid my sister my family in general. Most of all, I failed my self. I waited and I looked for options and answers but none came and no one had any to give. I felt so lost and alone, so useless and such failure. One day in the summer, a sunny and warm morning my husband and sister and my daughter were going to go to the lake and go fishing. I chose not to go because I had made a choice. My failures were so ugly to me that I could no longer live with them, I took a bottle of antihistamines (62 pills) and locked myself in the bathroom of our home. I prepared my self for the end of the pain and the sadness. I had a friend I didn't know I had. She busted in and took me on to the local clinic as the pills took their toll and I slipped away in to unconsciousness and peace. When I woke I was in the hospital and immediately the reality of the fact that once again I had failed hit me. I was such a failure I couldn't even kill my self! I went home and every one seemed to just sweep the whole thing under the rug like it never happened. I have never let myself forget the things that led up to that moment. The way I felt, the things that I was thinking and the fact that I truley felt with no doubt what so ever, that killing me was the only option I had to end my pain. THE ONLY OPTION I HAD !

Who Am I

Sorry there's no picture today. I couldn't find one that would express the way I feel today. The holidays are always hard for me and I am sure many many others. But this year it's not the holidays that's causing pain. Because of the other individuals that are involved with this blog entry I can't be specific. I apologize to you my readers as my intent with this blog was to tell it in the raw, but I neglected to factor in that others might be offended or feel that their privacy has been breached if I mention names or certain events in which they play a role in. So as difficult as this could be to explain I am going to do my best. The only way to really feel better or get better when you suffer from any number of mental health issues,( I have several, anxiety, P.T.S.D., chronic depression, panic attacks, premenstrual dysforic disorder.....)is to seek therapy, See your doctor about medication, and commit your self to getting better. The meds don't do much if you don't have therapy. The other factor is support. A therapist and some pills can't cure you. The combo only educates and guides you So that you can live more of your life. It helps you to build that tool box of tools that help us cope with the the Parts of life that are over whelming, difficult, sometimes impassable. It's what you learn and how you use it that makes the darker parts of you less and the days in the sunshine more. Not long ago I had only one week of functioning, ok time. With the meds and the work I have done in therapy I now have Three weeks of functioning,and ok time. Bottom line is, if you are reading this and haven't at least considered checking in to therapy and seeing your doctor about medications, you are wasting time, wasting your life. I have come a long way, but no way am I prepared for what is ahead of me. I am going to essentially be getting in to the lions cage wearing only a meat suit. If that doesn't kill me or whatever, I will be homeless and alone until my survival instincts kick in. I once had such good skills in the ways of keeping my self some what safe, and fed. I could make it out there by myself in the big world, but those skills have not been used in so long that I doubt I even have them any more and there fore doubt my chances of making it work on my own are very good. I know that this time failure will be devastating and I won't have a safety net or a backup plan. No one to catch me when I fall. I would have liked my story to end in glory and the happy ever after thing, but in reality not all stories end Happily ever after. As a matter of fact some end down right ugly. Part of healing is acceptance. That is one thing I can never do. I can't accept that I will never be whole,nor can I accept that I will always live in fear, even though the facts are so clear that they are all but embedded In my flesh. This will not change. There's no cure. I struggle every minute of every day of every week of every month Of every year with that fact. I am tired, and don't have the strength I once did to fight to be ok.