Trigger warning: if talking about suicide and self harm has a triggering effect on you, I would recommend that you do not read this. I’m not going into any significant detail, but the concept surrounding suicide is very present.
It’s currently 10:37pm. I’ve been struggling all day with whether or not to write about this. I considered saving it for later, but if I did that, it would defeat the entire purpose of World Suicide Prevention Day and why I started this blog in the first place. My hands are shaking as I write this.
As I’m writing this, it is Saturday, September 10th, World Suicide Prevention Day. It’s 2:48pm, as I’m starting this.
The reason I’m telling you specifically what time it is right now is because I don’t know how long it is going to take for me to get the words right, and even if I do, I don’t know if I’ll be able to post it right away.
As I wrote previously, recently I started a new antidepressant after holding steady on the same dosage for several months. My depression gradually came back and got so bad that I couldn’t handle it anymore and I went to see my doctor sooner than he was expecting me. This was despite the fact that, on paper, things are going pretty good in my life.
I had a couple days where I thought, maybe, this new antidepressant was going to help me, but now I’m not so sure. I now feel like my depression has gotten worse. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable saying that the new meds caused it to get worse, because the rate it has progressed seems to still fall in line with the gradual pattern of increasing symptoms I’ve had over the past 3+ months.
I’ve been having recurrent, and gradually worsening, thoughts of suicide since some time in June. When I saw my doctor in early August, it had gotten to the point where I was scared that I might actually do something. However, I couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. I still haven’t had the courage to say it out loud to anyone.
I’ve been having an extremely difficult time concentrating at work. My limbs often feel heavy. I have very little appetite most of the time (which is extremely unusual for me, as I usually have the opposite problem) and am having to force myself to eat when I don’t want to. I’ve relapsed into my self harm behaviours, after being clean for several months. I’m tired all the time, but not the sleepiness I had when I was on too high of a dose of sertraline (generic Zoloft). I’m restless, almost constantly. I’m not happy…or sad. I don’t know what I am.
The strange thing is, most of the time I am able to be present in the moment, as long as something is keeping me actively engaged. Being at Fan Expo last weekend was much less exciting and engaging than I’d expected. I still had parts that I really enjoyed, but I don’t think I was able to enjoy them to the fullest extent that I have enjoyed other cons in the past.
Even right now as I’m writing this I am finding myself to be extremely tired. I’ve put my head back and dozed off a couple times already. It’s only 3:11.
The past few days my symptoms have gotten much worse. I realized on Thursday that I was becoming obsessive about suicide. I don’t know if because of suicide prevention day that there were more suicide stories showing up on Facebook (I assume that is a significant part of it though) or if it was much be being more aware of them, but either way, I was obsessively reading articles and watching videos about other people’s suicide stories.
Although the vast majority of was I was intaking was about the survival of a suicide attempt or someone talking about losing a loved one to suicide, I wasn’t reading/watching their stories to empathize. Part of it was just general curiosity, which I have about just about everything, but part of it was searching for ways to actually do it.
I am mostly afraid of being unsuccessful and suffering more because of it. On top of that, having to talk about why I did it. I know that in most cases, pills won’t actually do the trick, they can, but they can cause some serious health issues if you do survive. That scares me more than the thought of actually dying. If I ever do properly attempt suicide, it’s probably going to be something that would be relatively painless, because the thought of long-term suffering sounds way worse, because I’m already suffering inside my own head. But then I think, maybe physical suffering will be less stigmatized…until they find out that I did it to myself. There’s just no winning.
To be honest, I’m not afraid of dying. I never really have been. I’m afraid of surviving and suffering because of it.
Last night I was having a very rough time. I kept going back and forth between feeling empty to being overwhelmed with sadness because I was feeling empty or because I was thinking about ending it all. Then at the drop of a pin the tears would stop and I’d go right back to feeling nothing anymore.
I was watching 3rd Rock from the Sun on Netflix because I’ve recently realized that comedy and 90s sitcoms, especially, help to distract me or pull me out of a bad mood. It wasn’t helping much.
I decided I wanted to sleep because I couldn’t handle it anymore but as soon as I lay down in bed, I burst into tears.
Since I ran out of sleeping pills and clonazepam some time ago, I had nothing to help calm me down or put me to sleep. I’m too scared to ask for more from my doctor because, it would probably seem like I went through them too fast, and I didn’t want him to question it, and more importantly, I didn’t want to admit that I’d taken anywhere from 2 to 5 times my dose of each of them on several occasions. Sometimes both at the same time.
I just feel like this dark cloud has been looming over me for so long that I’ve gotten used to it and I don’t always realize it’s there, until I do, and I panic.
On top of that, I’m just tired. Tired physically. Tired emotionally. Tired of feeling this way. Tired of feeling like no one cares about me or what I’m dealing with. Tired of no one asking me if I am really, truly ok.
Back to last night, I looked through everything I had that could potentially help me sleep. What I really wanted was to not wake up, but I didn’t have any method of making that happen. I took several Tylenol cold night time because I know it makes me sleep. I didn’t take a lot, but more than you’re supposed to. And I took a handful of Melatonin. I knew full well that nothing bad would happen, I just wanted to sleep, and was very much hoping that I would not wake up, even though I knew I would.
It ended up taking me another couple hours to fall asleep. I couldn’t breath through my nose at all because I was congested to begin with, but crying also makes me stuffy. I got up and walked around several times.
I started wondering if it was bad enough to warrant going to the hospital. I have no health coverage, at all right now, and I have no idea how any of that works in my province. I don’t want to have to be in debt again. I kept thinking that I need to text one specific friend, because she’s been there. She spent 2.5 months in the hospital. She told me a fair bit about it a while back and how it didn’t really help her. It was what she needed, but she didn’t really get better and see life in a different perspective until after she left the hospital. Last I spoke to her was when I was still ok, and she was doing extremely well. I don’t want to ruin that or burden her with my shit that seems so insignificant by comparison to her’s. Then the logical part of my brain reminds me that that’s bullshit, but right now, the logic is losing. I’m having a really difficult time right now, and admitting that is harder than words can explain.
Eventually I did fall asleep and didn’t wake up until my dog started getting antsy about getting out of the bedroom.
I’m not sure what triggered the urge to pick up my tablet (my phone was dead because I intentionally hadn’t plugged it in last night.
I saw I had some new emails. Assuming it was just going to be junk, I opened it up to get rid of them.
One of them was from Wear Your Label. I expected it to be some kind of promotional thing for supporting Word Suicide Prevention Day, but it was much, much more.
Instead, the very first sentence caught my attention. More specifically, the last part. “…recent suicide attempt.” I want to say it caught my attention because I could empathize. Actaully, I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t at least partly true. But mostly, it cause my attention because it was “recent.” I went into my full on obsessive mode, as I have for the past few days. I wanted to know every detail.
Today marks World Suicide Prevention Day.
Today, our co-founder, Kyle, also chose to open up about his recent suicide attempt.
This summer has not been an easy one at Wear Your Label – from the outside looking in, we’ve built a successful company that has created national partnerships, achieved international press, and influenced thousands of people. But sometimes, even when everything around you is amazing, mental illness can still take over.
Kyle will be formally resigning from Wear Your Label this month in order to take time for his mental health, and focus on recovery. The film we’re sharing today is an important part of Kyle’s story.
We appreciate all your love & support today, and as we move forward.
The email then linked to a YouTube video, which I didn’t go to until I finished reading the email, which went on to quote a bit of Kyle’s message.
Every forty-seconds, of every minute of every hour of every day. Someone attempts to end their life.
On August 5th, around 5:30AM I was that someone.
It’s hard to open up about your feelings, it’s hard to say “I’m done with living”.
I was lucky: someone was there for me. Many people are not as fortunate.
Hopefully this film will give the world some clarity in what many of us struggle with silently everyday. I understand that it can be hard to watch, it’s not meant to be triggering but informative, emotional, and healing.
If you feel suicidal thoughts, or depressive episodes, please reach out to someone or the numbers below.
For, now I am taking some time for me.
Inhale confidence, exhale doubt.
It was hitting too close for comfort. I then went to the video.
I was speechless. Crying for no real reason. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t feeling any sort of overwhelming emotion. I’m not exactly sure what was going on it my head. I put my tablet down and rolled over and curled up under my covers. Still teary, but not really emotional.
I’ve been like this all day now.
I can’t get the thought of suicide out of my head. In the odd moment where I happen to be thinking about something else, my mood is basically non-existent. I’ve been covering it up around my family because I don’t know how to bring it up. I feel like they don’t really even care that I’m not okay. They never ask me how I’m doing. They haven’t made any effort to understand what I’m dealing with.
Since I got out of bed this morning, my limbs have felt like dead weight. I fell asleep watching TV (multiple times, for very short periods) and I’ve feel a little ill, likely due to the Tylenol cold, because it reminded me of how I feel when I actually have a cold.
I was restless. I couldn’t get comfortable. But I would stop moving because my arms felt so heavy, like I couldn’t lift them. My legs felt similar, but not as severe. I adjusted them more often.
Eventually I went back to the kitchen for a snack, even though in my head I wasn’t hungry, my stomach was growling. I think the Tylenol cold had worn off by that point, because I no longer feel like I have a cold. I also took a decongestant earlier this afternoon because was still having trouble breathing through my right nostril and my nasal spray wasn’t helping. The decongestant, in pill form, seemed to do the trick. The air isn’t travelling evenly but it feels less uneven than it was. So that’s good.
But I am still struggling with the suicidal thoughts. It’s not as bad right now, I think because I’m more awake, but it’s still there. I keep telling myself that I’m going to call in sick to work on Monday, maybe Tuesday, because this is a really bad problem, but I am so scared of doing it. I also keep telling myself to call my doctor’s office first thing, but then I think, he can’t do anything except adjust my meds but it takes so long to see any change and that’s part of the reason I’m having such a difficult time. I am sick and tired of waiting to see if they’re even going to work, at all. It’s been 5 weeks since I started Trintellix, 3 weeks since I stopped sertraline. I don’t know if the Wellbutrin is having a positive or negative effect because it only made a noticeable difference when I was on way too high a dose of sertraline because it basically increases the levels of other drugs in your blood. So I was on a higher than the normal max of sertraline, plus Wellbutrin which boosted it, and actually did improve my mood. But it made me so tired that I couldn’t function. I realized recently that even my memory from that period of time is quite fuzzy.
So anyway, I’m still here. It’s now 4:18pm. I don’t know how the rest of the weekend is going to go. I don’t know if I’m going to have the courage to even post this today. We’ll see.
Today is World Suicide Prevention Day, and it feels slightly ironic to me because I am a bit suicidal myself right now.
Later this evening, around 6:45, I was driving through an extremely intense rain storm. (Apparently, there was a tornado warning, but I didn’t find out until later.) I had gone out to get some food. (I was having a craving for something I haven’t had for a couple years. It wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.) On the way back, I went a different way (long story which involves my social phobia), which brought me passed a cemetery. It was like my heart jumped into my throat. I’d forgotten that route would take me passed it.
Immediately, the thoughts that came into my head were about if I died. The main thought was, I don’t know where my parents would bury me. Why I thought about that, I don’t know, but I feel like there was a reason for me to drive that particular route, when I had so many other options for getting home, aside from it probably being the most direct, it was also usually the busiest. Being a Saturday in a crazy rain storm, it was probably less busy, but I didn’t think of that until just now.
I don’t want to kill myself. But I feel like I’m incapable of handling life. I feel like a failure, a burden. It sounds a little cliche to write these words, but it’s true. The fact that I’m realizing I’m feeling this way is sort of confirmation in my mind that I am in fact depressed and it’s worse than I keep telling myself that it is. I feel like I don’t deserve help, like I have to do it all on my own, because it’s never been severe enough, or I never felt like it was. I’ve been told so many times in my life that others have it worse. I’m not saying I don’t, but being taught that from a young age has made it very hard to me to legitimize my own feelings.
Anyway, I don’t really know how to end this post. I feel like I’m supposed to say things like, “you’re worth it,” and shit like that. Of course I would say it to others who are struggling but it’s difficult to feel that about myself. because I don’t really feel any better by writing about it and I’m still terrified to post it, but this stuff is so important to talk about and I feel like I have to talk about it.
It’s 11:01pm, September 10th, 2016, World Suicide Prevention Day.
I’m still fighting.