Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

Trigger Warning.
Talk of suicide and swearing.

~~~~

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

I hate you. I hate everything you have taken from me. I really fucking hate you.

I hate how I have to spend so much time and energy keeping my guard up and making sure that I don't fall to your fucking grips again and again.

I hate how draining that it is.

I hate what you've taken from my family.

I hate that you make me believe these bad things will be better for my family in the end.

I fucking hate you.

I hate how evil you are.  You are an evil fucking bitch.

I hate how you scare me.

I hate that I'm always waiting for the next shoe to drop and you will creep back into my life.

I hate how you are always lingering around teasing me.

I hate how, even when I know I'm not OK, I feel guilty because I feel like I should be just fine. 

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...


I will continue to keep trying.... not to let you back into my life the way you have been in the past.

I may not be successful today, or last week, or last month.  But one day I will.

If, despite all that I am doing, you manage to come back, I will not let you take over my life as you have in the past.  I will kick you in the fucking balls as I am trying to today.  You might be winning today. But be reminded, you will not fucking win. You will not!

I will continue to try and keep myself safe and protect my body, mind and spirit from you.
You will never beat me.  Never.  I promise you one thing.  You will NEVER fucking win.


Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

You will NEVER kill me.  No matter how hard you try.  I still wish you would go to hell and leave me the hell alone.  

Journey to TMS - Part 2

Part 1:  Journey to Transcranial Magnetic Therapy

It had been about 2 months since I heard from the TMS Clinic.  As I wrote previously (and below), it came at a very low point.

In a nutshell, the clinic manager called and let me know that they were still working with my insurance company.  And because of the complexity of the insurance issues, they were willing to take a risk and start treatment.

An answer to a prayer.

I wrote the following excerpts in a google document about a week ago the day before I went for the first appointment/treatment (that treatment didn't happen...more on that later)  

The Before
*Initially when I got the call from the TMS Center...I was very hopeful.  I immediately text/called two of my closest friends.  Speaking with one of them on the phone while she was working.  Fear, self sabotage, and all that other crap didn't have a chance to sink in at that point.

The call came on a day when I was unable to get out of bed.  At a point where not much more fight was left.

That call was nearly a month ago.  I've had plenty of time to back out.  I've had plenty of time not to follow thru and just plain build my anxiety up so damn high I can't stand myself.  Night terrors have filled nearly every single night of the last 3-4 weeks.  Much in relationship to TMS therapy.

And my anxiety is extremely high.  LOTS AND LOTS of anxiety!

There is no turning back.  I can't keep going like this.  I know something has to change.
So I will go.
And make the best of it.
And pray for the best.

In less than 24 hours, I will go for the initial treatment.  I'm not sure that I can do this.  I don't want to go alone. I will.  I have to. My children deserve to have their mother back. If anything else.  They deserve to have a mom.  And I deserve to be their mom w/everything that I've got.

Living in the Dark - Guest Post for My Daily Jenn-ism

The following is the blog post I wrote for Jenn for her March Mental Health Awareness Month Guest Blog posts. Thank you Jenn for opening up your blog and giving a voice to the many areas of mental health this month (and often). If you've not been to My Daily Jenn-ism. head on over..you may just want to go check her out.

LIVING IN THE DARKNESS

Readers of my blog know that I’ve struggled with various forms of depression and suicidal ideation off and on for several years.  Consistently since my youngest was born in 2002. The intensity spiked up ten notches after I had gastric bypass and the ability to absorb medication properly came to an abrupt halt in 2004.

Some days I believe I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation.  I imagine my psychiatrist believes the same thing.  Several years ago, shortly after I was released from a short inpatient hospitalization, she said to me “Do you really believe you will eventually kill yourself?”  I can’t even tell you what my response to her was.  What she said next, I know I will never forget.  Ever.  It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to process.  I didn’t process it.  I didn’t even let it affect me.  She was right.  I knew it.  And just like many other areas things in my life...I stuffed what she said...deep down in the ‘don’t go there’ emotional bin.  

It wasn’t until about 18 months ago, when she said it to me again, that it dug deep. Even deeper than the first time. When I left her office, I spent another hour sitting in my car.  Processing what she said.  The depth of her comment.  And how incredible hard it was to hear.  

“__, I’m not convinced you won’t kill yourself.  And that haunts me each night.”

This was a continued conversation regarding medication, the lack of being able to take them, being at the end of another failed attempt, and pure frustration for both of us.  

I had no hope at that point and the pros/cons of being hospitalized was thrown around. To hear Dr. KSB confirm she didn’t have that hope, was a bit devastating.  Initially, few years earlier, it didn’t have the same effect.

I contemplated never going back to see her.

I made an appointment with a psychiatrist that specializes in gastric bypass, whom I had seen when I was in the hospital, whom had done an evaluation on me prior to my WLS, and whom even though I didn’t like...I did trust his knowledge was extensive.  It was a 6 month wait to see him.  I was desperate when I scheduled that appointment.  The appointment came and went.  He confirmed that I was seeing one of the best psychiatrists and that I needed to continue my treatment with her.  He gave me his recommendations and sent them to Dr. KSB.  Telling me to follow-up with her in a week or two.  He also, added several dx to my permanent chart.  That appointment was a year ago.  None of his recommendations were options at the time.  Dr. KSB has left the one recommendation as a last case scenario.  Agreeing that the only way she would suggest it being an option, would be if there was an attempt to end my life.  It would be, as he said...”LAST CASE SCENARIO”.  

And so...I continue to see her.  

She knows me. I know her. She trusts me (I think). I trust her.  

And she knows that filling me with all sorts of medications is not an option.  

At my last appointment with Dr. KSB, we discussed the current state of my marriage.  My husband and I are both patients of hers.  Once again, she told me ‘my gut tells me you would not survive a separation or divorce’.  Damn as much as I know that. It is harder to hear it.  Once again, I sat in my car for a good hour after my appointment trying to process what she had to say.

Currently, mental illness waxes and wanes in my life.  There are a few good days here and there.  There are suicidal days where I’m holding on to the last bit of the frayed string, trying everything in the book to stay alive.  Some days all I can do is lay on the couch and watch my dogs play, listen to my children's voices, fighting against everything to hold on to their sweet voices.  Praying and hoping against all hope that the depression will lift.  Leave me alone.  At least for a day.  

A few weeks ago, I wasn’t suicidal.  I had more than an entire day without the constant thoughts of hurting myself, the bad thoughts, the self hatred, and self harm impulses.  Just sadness.  Sadness that this is my life.  The next few days, I wasn’t so lucky.

That is the nature of this beast.  The last 18-24 months this has been my life.  It is a constant battle to get up every day.  Some days, the darkness lifts.  

Everybody Hurts by REM rings a bell.  I woke up thinking about this song this morning.

And so....I leave you with that.

Everybody Hurts.

Everybody Cries.

Hold On.

EVERYBODY HURTS Youtube Link

~~~~~~~~
And I will add I've had a bad week of suicidal ideation.  Self harm crap has been sky high.  My BFF informed me I'm to negative and need to try to increase positive in my life.  And while I know she is right, when every ounce of my energy is taken by going to work....there is nothing left.  Excuse?  Sure as hell is.  Bit it is where I'm at.  I have went as far as have plan in place and need to be talked down off the ledge by one of my Orlando Moms.  She gets this place.  I know she does.  And somehow that makes it that much harder.

Jenn added the following to this post. And I will do the same.

If you or anyone you know is struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.

No matter what problems you are struggling with, hurting yourself isn't the answer. Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) to talk to a counselor at a Lifeline crisis center near you.

Someone loves you and someone WILL miss you.  I promise! 

~Checking In~

One of my fav pics from local zoo.

I've had several messages asking how I'm doing over the last few days. I appreciate the concern.  Even though...my private responses or lack thereof may not seem like it..I really do appreciate them.  Comments to posts have went unpublished because of personal info of a few different comments. Again, thanks.

Things are about the same.  No better.  Can't say they are not worse.  The last 48-72 hours have been gawd awful. Very few moments of clarity.  I managed to pull myself together enough to work for a few hours yesterday morning.  Even though I was there at work. I did not work. My pain levels were a bit higher than they have been and I took a pain pill as soon as I got to my parking spot and got on the bus.  By the time I got to the office I was about to fall over asleep.  So...I sat listening to movies on my tablet and slept.  I seriously slept more than I was awake while I was at work.  Left work and came home and went to bed.

Today was day four of taking the low dose of c.ymbalta.  It will be the last day if things don't wind down quickly.

Fighting the Darkness

These days.  They are dark.  Daylight savings has kicked my ass.  So much swirling.  I saw my psychiatrist this evening.  It was a much over-do appointment.  Some scheduling snaffu's almost made it so the appointment didn't happen.

It was a huge struggle to put it all out there.  The good, the bad, and the ugly.  There wasn't much good.  There was some really ugly.  As I talked to her and told her some of the really ugly that has transpired over the last 8 weeks since I saw her last...I was overcome with a huge sense of broken-ness!  This is one thought that I've tried very hard to overcome, not believe, and not fall into that trap.  For the most part I'm able to keep it at bay.  I don't often see myself as broken.  However, this evening as I sat in Dr. K's office that is the one thing that seemed to resonate.

It was incredible tough being 110% honest with her.  Making her hear me for where I am at.  Not just that I'm in the ever revolving realm of suicidal ideation. A spot she is very used to seeing me in.  But more of getting across to her the depths of where I've been.  We discussed why I've not called to get in sooner, why I didn't agree to see someone else while she was out of the country, and some other things.  There are some things I can't seem to really bring myself to blog about.  It isn't that there is anything to hide.


Being completely honest and real with Dr. K was one of the toughest things I've done in a long time.  I don't always have full faith/trust in her that she won't decide that this time I won't need to be hospitalized.  I'm not okay.  I know that.  It is taking every ounce of my energy to get up every single day.  I can't even begin to express how incredible tough it is.

Yet, I do it.  I can't tell you why. I'm not even sure that I know why.  This evening has been rough.  After leaving Dr. K's office today I had a bit of optimism.  There was a very small flicker of hope that maybe a re-try with her readily availble should things go ary would be helpful.  I spoke with my BFF on my way home and felt confident that this was a good plan that we came up with.  And then somewhere in the 30 miles between her office and my home....it all went down the toilet.

I've been in this space before.  I've danced this horrible choppy slow dance before.  I know how incredible shit filled it is.  It's getting old.  I wish it was as easy as choosing to be more positive, make different choices, change this or that.  Lord knows, I've done it. I'm doing it. This is where this fight becomes to much some days.  

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly...Meds SUCK

**DISCLAIMER:  This post is a representation of MY thoughts, opinions, and experiences.  DO NOT stop taking your medications just because...I or anyone else say they SUCK or anything else that I may/may not say about them in this post...There. I. Said. It.**

I've not really blogged much about the medication change that transpired little over a month ago.  I was hopeful on many levels.  At the end of the 2nd week, I was seeing some positive changes.  Still a tad reluctant of the positive effects...BUT very thankful there were some definite positives.  There were negatives in the realm of side effects.  That is something I'm very accustomed to at this point.  I've seen my current psychiatrist going on 13 years this next spring.  She knows me inside and out.  I've blogged before about our love/hate relationship.  I love her dearly.  I hate the effects medications have had on my body.  I've taken just about every.single.thing out there.  After my gastric bypass, my ability to tolerate medications became much less.  As in MUCH MUCH MUCH less.  And so the battle continues and as I've said over the last several years....got much worse.

THE GOOD:
Medications are prescribed by doctors to assist symptoms, to target abnormal medical findings, assist and prevent illnesses.  These symptoms range in anything from pain, insomnia, hallucinations, coughing, chest pain, cramping, and many more ailments.  The goal of medications is ultimately to relieve symptoms.  At the end of the day, the goal of medications is to get rid of ailments/symptoms and prevent something worse from happening.  In many cases the goal is both....prevent and get rid of.  At any rate, the goal is to normalize ones quality of life/living.

Medications work.  Sometimes.  In some people.  They have the ability to make bad things go away and allow people to live happier, healthier, and more productive lives.

THE BAD:
The bad thing with medications is they have side effects.  Take trazodone for an example.  It is used as antidepressant, but it makes people sleepy.  SO it is used in a sub-therapeutic (for depression) to help with insomnia.  This particular example can be a good side effect.  Most side effects, though, are bad.  They are uncomfortable the person.  They are often the reason patients stop taking their medications.  Side effects are usually uncomfortable.  Rarely are they fatal.  Usually they are reversible.  Most often these effects go away once the medication is stopped.

The interesting thing about side effects is that few of them happen to everyone that takes them.  Take the side effects of SSRI's for example, a ton of people will experience sexual side effects, not everyone will.  Tremors, sexual side effects, weight gain, and sleepiness are often common side effects of SSRI's and other medications used for psychiatric disorders.

I've struggled with nearly every single psychiatric medication that I've been prescribed since my gastric bypass in 2004.  As a patient who struggles with severe depression, a condition that is impeding my life, it is often worth taking the risk of any given side effect.  Usually, I find myself somewhat hopeful the effects may not happen.

THE UGLY:  (and it can be ugly)
Side effects are unpleasant, at best.  Many have rare and really ugly effects.  The rare and ugly effects are actually not side effects..they are considered ADVERSE REACTIONS.  They can be awful, fatal, and in rare cases irreversible.  Tardive Dyskinesia is an adverse reaction, one that takes time to develop.  One that was a listed as a VERY rare side effect of a medication I took about a year ago.  The usual response to the UGLY is to stop the medication ASAP.

Increased depression, self injury, suicidal ideation in my opinion falls under the ugly category.  This medication is prescribed to relieve these very symptoms and then it increases it.  Occasionally, these reactions/effects can lesson after a few days.  In some cases, they continue to get worse and worse.  Until there is no choice to stop the medication immediately.

THE MEDS SUCK:
I'm currently in the VERY UGLY portion of taking a new(er) medication.  The last paragraph describes what life has been in the last few weeks.  Each and every day increasingly getting worse.  The last few days have been hell.  I've been here before.  I've experienced this before.  I spoke with Jodi last night about the effects.  My pdoc is not in the office at the time.  Seeing someone else is not really an option.  And I've been this route enough times to know that I need to stop the medication immediately before I end up in the hospital.  Jodi and I discussed taking it every other day.  The suicidal ideation wasn't as horrific, was manageable, and not constant prior to reaching the full dose. I'm unable to cut the medication in half, therefore, taking it every other day was the option that seemed like the best action to take.  Giving that a try was something that I was willing to give a try.  After today, I don't believe I will be taking it again. At least not until I can see my doctor in a few weeks.

Get Back Up...Damnit.

1:  Learn the warning signs for suicide

2:  Join the Movement

3: Spread the word

4:  Support a Friend

5: Reach Out


So many things race race in and out of my thoughts.  As I sit here trying hard to fall back asleep..I decide to give up and turn on my computer.  Awake again at the wee hours of the night.  As I turn on my computer, log into bookface (f.acebook)..my family on the west coast has several different messages about what this day is and the painful reminders it brings.

I see the link to a news article and read it.  Again.  Proud and heartbroken all at once. As my cousins pick up the pieces on the anniversary of their father taking his life....it is is gentle reminder to me to keep on getting up.  Over and over. As hard as it is. Regardless of the war that rages on in my head.  I have no choice.  But...to continue to Get Back Up every damn day!

I will not leave that legacy for my children.  As hard as it is to fight the battle on some days.  As hard as it is to keep on moving. I will not do it.

And so for today....and tomorrow...and next week....I will get back up every damn day.  Regardless of how hard it might be.  And for the days that I can't get up....accepting that it's okay to stay in bed.

This is not the life that I envisioned living.  I never in a million years would have imagined that this battle would be one that I would continue to fight over and over.

I came home w/new medication samples and a prescription for antidepressant yesterday after a visit w/my pdoc.  She was a  bit different in her approach with me.  As I left and contemplated the things she said it stung.  She wasn't being harsh. Genuine and loving....and adamant that I'm not living my best life.  And that is her ultimate goal.  Yet, she is unsure which direction to go.  So once again, I try a new medication.  Over the last 2 ys antidepressants and I've not been friends and they've increased the S.I a ton.  Leary of giving it a try is an understatement.  I have nothing to loose by trying it. I have everything to loose by not.

Permanent Solution....

Add caption

...to a temporary problem.

Every 15 minutes someone in the US takes their own life.  OUCH. That is a pretty stark statistic.  One that makes me cringe.  

Spend 1 minute learning the warning signs.  I posted a link yesterday to warning signs.  Here it is again:  HELP A LOVED ONE or FRIEND.

I personally don't keep a crisis number handy.  Nor do I keep any sort of crisis phone number handy.  I'm not saying that is the way to go.  I'm saying for ME..it wouldn't help.  And if at anytime I thought it would help...I could get the number immediately.  My therapists office is on my speed dial.  I've been a patient long enough at her clinic that I know their phone number.  I've used their after hours (not in several years) and am aware of how their process works.  For me this works.  I often will call my therapist, even if it is after hours or when she is not working, and leave her a message.  Sometimes, that is all it takes.  Something...as little/minor as a 'message check-in' that says "I'm struggling. Things suck. I'm not doing well..." or whatever it might be....that has helped.  It leaves me accountable on some levels.

If you or a loved one is struggling having the following information saved in your phone may prove to be helpful.  My husband is very aware of how to reach the clinic that we go to.  And how to reach my therapist should the need arise.

Save the LIFELINE number, 1-800-273-TALK (8255) in your phone and encourage your friends and family to do the same.  You never know when someone you love may need the number.

How I Stayed Alive...

........during a very dark period of my adult life this book:

 'How I Stayed Alive When My Brain was Trying to Kill Me'...

Purchase book here

.... was a very vital resource for me.  I've blogged before about this book and how it helped me.

From time to time I still pull it out.  Usually I will open it to a random page and begin reading.  Sometimes it is helpful. Sometimes it is not.  Often I find myself wanting to chuck the damn thing out the window or at something.  BUT BUT BUT....if I'm chucking the book out the window...I am not hurting myself.  And that distraction could be all it takes to change my thoughts from hurting myself to this is going to be okay.

My therapist at the time suggested this book and a few others.  This particular book has a few different crisis plans. I like how they are layed out and how it helps you create one. Often people don't create crisis plans when they are not in crisis.  I mean, I didn't.  I didn't think I was in need of crisis.  Hell, I didn't even believe I was suicidal. I was just extremely overwhelmed with the loss of our adopted son via a disruption and I had gastric bypass complications.

So when I was truly in crisis mode...I was able to sum up the energy and come up with a plan. One that would work for me.  One that was doable.  One that was personalized to ME. Not some standard form the damn hospital gives you and says "before you can be released you need to fill out this crisis plan".  My response to their standardized, not-very-personalized-and-huge-joke-if-i-ever seen one....fill in the blanks crisis plan was....I threw it in the garbage.  The psych that was seeing me wasn't to impressed. He told me that I had to fill out their form if I wanted to go home.  If you have read my blog for long you will know that "Uh...I don't do well with being demanded to do anything...ever."  And well...I pretty much told him where to put his crisis plan. And then I handed him this book..with my 'etched' out crisis plan wrote on a piece of paper.  He said "did you tell the social worker you had this?  Because this is much better than the one we gave you."  I responded somewhere on the lines that "I am the crazy one...and your nurses and staff treat me just like that. They know I have wrote it, that I was reading this book, and if they gave a shit then they would have told you that I already had done a crisis plan...it just wasn't the one your staff insist on me doing."

The KEY is to find something that WORKS for you. I don't give a shit if it is on the back of a receipt with my phone number, your therapist phone number, the number to the local bar, whatever it is.....find what works for you.  That ONE thing and hold on to it.

I did.
I'm still here.

Pull up a chair...

...and take me serious for a moment or two.

Today kicks off the beginning of National Suicide Prevention Week.  Please take a moment and educate yourself on the resources available to you and your loved ones.

This is a battle that is very personal to me.  There isn't a day that goes by that mental illness doesn't effect my life on some level.  Not every single day of my life is plagued with depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicidal ideation and/or other issues associated with mental illness.  However, many aspects of my life are effected.  From the types of medication that I can/can not take, to the disruption of our son whom we adopted, to the effects that my own illness has on my children/spouse, and the long lasting effects of abuse/trauma not only for myself but my children.  We live this every single day on some level.

If you were to meet me on the street you would probably never know that this 30something, wife and mother struggles with depression and suicidal ideation on a very deep level.  You may not even be able to tell that I've been hospitalized not once, not twice, not three times...but four times in a 9 month period of time.  When I'm not recovering from a shoulder injury...I hold down a full-time job.  All this to say....you never know who you are going to meet that battles the darkness on some level.

In about 10 days will mark the 1 yr anniversary of my Uncle D's passing.  I wrote this post upon finding out the morning after that he took his life.
  Please take a moment and educate yourself about the resources available to you and/or your loved ones.   GET HELP FOR YOURSELF - CLICK on this LINK for info on where to turn. Call the number on the screen above.

This week, as I am able, I will attempt to blog about the things that have/do help me get to the end of some pretty suck-ass-I-can't-do-this-anymore-moments.

Spiral downward

I'm home. I didn't go far to begin with.  I didn't really have anywhere to go.  And leaving w/o any essential items such as clothes makes it even harder to just show up somewhere.

I found a country road and drove back and forth for a rather long time.  Thoughts of missing one turn or the other were rampid as ever.  I've gotten in my car and left before.  I've went somewhere.  Tonight, I didn't have it in me to get out of my car or do anything other than just drive.  And drive.

And then I got tired of doing that and trusted myself less and less.

And so I came home and I sat in my driveway.  For several hours.  With my sunroof open.  Tears falling.  It wasn't very pretty.  My husband texting me I needed to come home.  Wanting to know where I was. Demanding that I call my therapist office.  Refusing to do anything but just sit there w/the sunroof open.

I've spiraled into a deep hole today.  It's been in the works for a long time.  I keep thinking that tmw will be different.  And tmw isn't ever different.  I had high hopes for today.  And then I screwed it up.

It's Scary...It's Wrong...I'm so Freeking Not Alone

Speechless....I can't even begin to tell you where my day has been.  The whirlwind of emotions.
The nearly 90 minute massage where I laid there fighting back tears.
Holding ice in my hands (as discussed in this video) in an attempt to not harm myself...bc that is just where I was at...at that moment. 

And then listening to this video............and post "Depression Lies"  by The Bloggess



.................it is a reminder that I am not alone.  YOU are not ALONE damnit!

F*ck this shit is scary.  And it is wrong.  So f*cking wrong.  As I stood at the fridge today w/my head resting on the freezer door.  My children outside playing.  My husband off in his own world doing heaven only knows what.  I stood there...and I had enough.  FB message came thru on my phone from my BFF:  'Tell me you are okay.  I'm terribly worried'.  At that moment.  At that very moment I was not okay.  I was never so close to harming myself than I've been in a long time.  There was no rational thinking on my part.  Depression had taken over.  The events of marital stress has/had taken its toll. Returning to work in a different department and being "on" as someone described to me today - taking it's toll.  Effexior kicking my mother effing ass as it has every damn day for the last month plus that I've been on it....and I was done.  DONE.  And there was only one way out. 

One of my children walked in the door.  My reminder of why I GET UP every day was right there in front of me.  He took off back out the door after he got the No-Bake Coconut/PB cookie he wanted that we had made last night.

And once again I rest my head on the freezer door.  One million thoughts racing.  Back and forth.  "Use the tools...what tools do you have....fuck the tools....pick up that phone that you just turned off and turn it back on....fuck the phone I'm not calling anyone..." over and over this mantra played out.  I reached in the freezer to get some ice for the pitcher of ice tea I had made.  I dropped the ice bucket on the floor.  As I bent over to pick up the bucket of ice I recalled something that one of the psychologists in the dbt group I attended said.  "Hold onto ICE....in both fists....You will NOT be able to keep the very same concentration of harming yourself.  It will give you the same release that cutting, banging your head, or whatever self harm behaviors you do..."

And she was right.

Feelings vs Thoughts

I have pulled out my handy dandy book "How I Stayed Alive When My Brain Was Trying to Kill Me: One Person's Guide to Suicide Prevention".  I've had this book for 5-6 years.  I've read it front to cover a few times. 

Occasionally, I pull it out and open it to any page.  Believing that whatever page I open up will be what is needed for me at that time. At times I find myself getting upset with whatever it is that I might be reading. 

It is my plan right now to re-read the entire book. 

Here are a few thoughts that have stuck out to me so far.  I've only read a few 'pages'.  The following really seemed to sink in. More than ever before.

Suicide begins as a thought.  That thought is then driven by negative FEELINGS.  Such feelings are temporary (even though it doesn't ever feel like that in the moment) and are definitely changeable.  The Author states "Suicidal is not a feeling".  These thoughts are paired with feelings of guilt, anger, loneliness, and desperation.  It is crucial to separate these feelings from the thoughts of suicide.  Personally....this is a really hard concept for me.  As I try hard to notice the thoughts and feelings associated with the physical and emotional pain that I am experiencing...(specifically physical since that seems to be brought on by emotional pain), I find it extremely hard to differentiate between the thoughts vs feelings. These things didn't develop overnight and they will for sure not go away over night.

The day has been long.  Filled with lots of commotion.  I'm ready for some downtime. And the next step is in the "Tricks of Trade" portion of the book.  I am going to spend sometime reading the tricks of the trade portion of this book - creating a crisis plan.  One that I can keep on an index card w/me at all times.  It has been a long time since I've had one that I've kept in my datebook.  Several years to be honest.  The last week...I've needed something quick and easy on more than one occasion.  Something that I can pull out.  Glimpse over and attempt to find some sort of relief in remembering that these THOUGHTS are just THOUGHTS. 

I want to add a few other thoughts.....I have a ton of different tools.  I've spent enough years in therapy that I've got the tools to use.  I know them. I often use them (even though it doesn't seem like it.)  At the end of the day....Depression is a lying bastard! Plain, cut, simple, and dry.  It is this saying that I read on another blog readers blog a few months back that....is so incredible difficult to remember in those dark moments.  During my last appt w/J* she basically said the same thing on more than one occasion.  "That is the depression speaking.....it is not true...blah blah blah.." and each time she would say this I would think (and tell her) "Eff..that!"  It is true. I know it is.  Today...I'm able to see and hear that.  There is no promise that tmw or the next day or next month I will be able to remember, see, hear....BELIEVE it. 

Ugliest of Days

There have been many ugly days in recent months/weeks/days.  There have been many not so ugly days where life moves foward.  Not wonderful. Not horrible.  It moves and I carry along with it.  Hoping and praying that slowly there will be a shift.

I don't want to go in to details at this point.  I know I have laid almost everything out there in past posts.  Suffice to say that today was a very ugly day.  As in very ugly.  I wanted an out.  I looked for an out at every corner, thought, feeling, ect., ect..

I got in my car to come home from work.  Weather was not good. I pulled out of the parking lot from work and into main road to go home and there was a flood of emergency vehicles.  I was not prepared for what I saw.  It has left me physcially and emotionally ill for the remainder of the evening.  I need to go to sleep and it just isn't happening.  As I close my eyes, I hear the police officers talking.  I hear the man scream at the officers to not come any closer.  I see the flashing lights all over again coming at me from all angles.  Telling the police officer that "I need to be able to move my car and get out of the middle of the chaos...NOW."  And him telling me 'no m'am we need you to stay right here. We can't have anyone move their vehicles.  And me expressing to him in a rather blunt way that I HAD TO MOVE or they would need to have more emergency personal come my way.  I truly...was in a panic.  The officer realized the urgency and made sure I got out of the area. I called my dh. He blew me off. I called my friend L* she was shoveling and turned on the scanner and said just as flurry of activity took place even more...I will call you when you get home...just lookk forward.  I spoke to my dear friend S*.......  I was not prepared to see, hear, be witness to something that I personally think about on a regular basis.

 Someone lost their son, their father, their brother, their husband.....somoene potentially lost a beloved person in their lives tonight.  (I should say that I don't know the ultimate fate of this persons actions.  However, I know that it will be life changing/altering/ending!)

My 9 year old came into my room to put something away.  He saw that I was laying awake in bed and came over and said "Mommy, can I talk to you?"  And we laid in bed and had a great conversation about his week at school.  The good, the bad, the ugly and the awesome.

It is moments like this....laying in bed next to my son that remind me....why I was not the person on that bridge this evening.  Struggle as I might on a day-in-day-out basis with suicidal ideations....I will be damned if I will let this illness take from my children the very thing that they deserve. 

And so.....I continue to fight.  Fight hard.  It is ugly most days.  And not so much many others.  I may drive my husband, best friend, and therapist out of their minds...but damn it all...I will continue to fight and get up each and every damn day. 

For my children.
For me.

*updated to add:  This person involved was drunk.  Involved in a mult-car accident a few blocks away from this bridge.  Fled the scene and decided that jumping off the bridge was the lessor of two evils.  I don't drink and therefore, it is easy for me to call people who do and do stupid shit like this fucking idiots.  It is what it is...and he could probably thanks himself for being to drunk...that is probably what saved his life.  Just like the dumbass who drove their bike into a bus a few months ago....being so drunk saved his life.

Still Missing

UPDATE : Alex will he with his dad by tmw.  He is flying to the town he is currently in.  Jaycee is with her brother.

My 16 yr old cousin, mentioned in yesterdays post, is still missing, along with her 17 year old boyfriend.

My heart aches on a way that I can not describe.   I can not even begin to imagine the pain my Aunt D is enduring.

It angers me.  That J is missing.  That her father committed suicide.  That she was in so much pain that she could not ask for help.  That her only answer was to runaway. 

This is an otherwise, happy..healthy..well rounded young lady.  Wth so much going for her.

The effects of suicide are devastating.

Please remind me....in my next downward spiral...why I GET UP...AGAIN AND AGAIN!!!!

When I Least Expect It

((EDITED: hit enter before I was done)

Overall, I've had several good days.  There have been moments and even hours that have been tough.  That is life.  We all....regardless of whether you struggle with depression or any sort of mental health illness....will have tough moments in life.  And in those moments, I try to remind myself...that this is what life is all about.

The longer/more good days I have the less I tend to panic when those bad moments /days hit.  And then there are moments like tonight..where I'm hit.  Unexpected.  And there is only one way out. It is in those moments that I find myself more vulnerable.  And those are the moments that tend to scare me the most. 

This evening, I spent a rather long time stopped along side the interstate.  Rational enough that I knew I needed to pull over; compose myself and continue on home.  Yet, irrational enough that it took me a very long time to "continue" on.  I knew at that moment if I countined to keep driving....it would be ugly. I attempted making a few calls to people I knew would distract me from the inevitable.  Instead; I sat for quite sometime. I didn't continue on on my own.  I had a State Trooper stop and see if I needed help.  Dear Lord, I wanted to say something more than "Sir, I pulled over because I needed to call and text someone."  He made a comment that nothing is that urgent and he knew by my plates I wasn't far from home.  I responded with a "yes, sir...I know I'm close to home.  However, I needed to compose myself. It is a tad hard to drive and have a good cry at the same time".  I assured him I would soon be on my way.  And that I indeed was okay.  He offered to check up on me in a little while at my home.  And I reassured him that it was best if he didn't.  PTSD would rear it's ugly head if a police officer came to our door...for both of my children.  I gave him my DL and cell number and welcomed him to call but please do not stop by my house.....

I received a call a few short minutes ago..

~Raging on the Inside~ ****tons of swearing******

My follow up appt today went as I expected.  Fucktastic!

I'm pissed.  PISSED.  Fucking PISSED.

I sat for over an hour in my car after my appt today with my psychiatrist.
RAGING F*CKING MAD!!!

If I didn't have to work, hadn't already missed 10 hrs last week unpaid, and got myself in trouble bc I had a fucking tizzy ass fit and didn't make it to work OR call in....I WOULD STILL BE SITTING THERE!!

Because SITTING THERE....I can scream and cry and be fucking mad.

I can't scream, cry and rage when I walk in my doors of my house or work. 

Yes, being the bread-winner of my family has added stress.  Just ask my psychiatrist...she knows that. She states it.  She gives me her thoughts and quite fucking honestly she can shove them up her ass.  And because of that fucking stress....of loosing my job AND loosing my health insurance....I had to go to work today.  I dont' know how many days I can keep this up.  I really don't.  Then what?

Obviously, therapy isn't going to help or fix this shit.  It is up to me.  Obviously, I'm not doing my part.  I guess fucking not.  I guess the fact that I threw the bottle of meds at the cupboard and up so I couldn't reach them wasn't doing my part or using the tools that I have been given.  I guess, going to work....when all I can think about is just walking out infront of a car...is not using the tools.  And so i'm not doing my part.    According to my dr. today....I should be able to kick this w/o medication bc I dont' hear voices and other stupid shit she said.

Today's appt reminded me of what I have been subject to in other medical related issues w/my PCP's office from time to time.  Specifically, the gastric bypass team members.  Dismissed.  Diminished. 

This is so fucking unfair!

What Next?

I am 7+ years post gastric bypass surgery.  I'm not thin.  I did get thin the year or so after my surgery.  And during that time, things kind of fell apart in the mental health department.  Until my surgery, the medication that I took obviously helped for the most part.  However, the last 7 years has been an up and down ride.  One filled with much frustration, pain, and grief all in one. 

For a very long time after my surgery I said over and over that I would "do it all over again....regardless" of where/what I was enduring at that point in time. 

Today, would not be one of those days.

I've gained a good bit of the weight I lost back.

I had to have a hysterectomy because of iron issues.

I am struggling w/significant iron issues - even after having hysterectomy.

I've been hospitalized a few different times for various different reasons bc of illness' and other issues.

Malabsorption is an issue.....large issue. 

Today, would be one of those days....where I would tell you hell no...I would not do it again.

I contacted the surgical team after leaving a therapy appointment this morning.  The nurse and one of the doctors were great.  Offered to contact my therapist and psychiatrist right away.  The family practice doctor contacted the private mental health clinic that I go to while I was there in the clinic.  Both clinicians I see were in session.  Which is understandable.  The nurse relayed a message from the dr. that suggested I make an appt with the Bariatric Team Psychiatrist.

So up the stairs I went to the 3rd floor to make an appt.  And was told the first appt he had available was "February 27 or 28..." RIGHT BEFORE I go to Orlando.  I did not make the appt. Discouraged and beaten down I left.  Before I did, the receptionist said to me "____ we can get you in at *xyz* clinic with in the next week or two."  At that point, for the 2 or 3rd time today, I fell apart.  The only thing I could muster up the strength to say, I know wasn't very smart, was...."by then I will be 6 ft under".  And I left.

I don't know what is next.

I know that I'm more than frustrated.

I know that I'm beaten down.

I know that I'm discouraged.

I know that I'm trying to find something to hold on to.

After eating lunch, phone call to one of dear Soul Sisters, and a trip to L.ands E.nd - I headed home.

went straight to bed and didn't emerge till dinner was done.

 As soon as my children are in bed, I will be returning to my bed.  One of few things will happen. I will wake up and this shit will be gone. Fixed. And just a horrible dream.  That would be the best outcome.  And the only outcome I care to think about tonight.

A Little Reminder

because...I need it today in a really bad way.

**warning:  raw and choppy**

Find myself thinking from time to time:

This will be the day. 

The day that the sun will shine brighter.

The day that my shoulders feel lighter. 

The day that Debbie Downer will go the hell home and stay the frick away from here.

From time-to-time I read different sayings that are positive and uplifting.  Basically stating if you think positive things...you will feel positive and feel better.  Screw that!  I'm here to tell you that even though I've not been positive all that often...I've tried it.  I've sat and read uplifting things for hours upon hours over the last several weeks.   I guess I'm not faithful enough or positively positive enough to have it work its magic or some damn thing on me.



I am especially tired today.  Not physically so much.  I was in bed by 12:30am (after I took the new medication for the first time and then spend several minutes puking and trying not to freek the hell out bc my tongue was tingling and numb.) And got up out of bed at 12:30pm.  I did not sleep that entire time.  I woke up around 9:30am and dozed off and on until I got up and showered.

My kids are home from school today.  My husband left with them shortly after 9:30am.  I thought he wanted to meet for lunch.  Which is why I got up and showered. I called him at 12:45 to see where they were and he responded with 'at the food court eating lunch'.  A few short 'oh I thought we were going to meet for lunch comments from me' and I hung up.  In tears.  One puddle of tears that hasn't stopped.

I miss my kids something fierce.  I've worked pms for 3 straight weeks and looks like I will be working another week of pms next week. Which is okay.  Yet, I miss my kids.  When I am home I feel so disconnected from them and what they are doing.

My son will be baptised next weekend.  And even this event and the planning around it....I've not been a part of. Not one bit of it.  I want to.  I've been informed of the date and time by my husband.  I've only mentioned it to a few people...as in 2.  I mentioned it to my mom a few days ago when she was here.  Knowing she would not be interested in coming (she's very anti-LDS) and not be supportive.  She will be to my son but then will makes snide hurtful comments to me later on. 

I have said over and over and over and over again....I get up again and again....because of my kids.  And yet....I'm not there for them.  So why continue getting up?  Why continue fighting this ugly efn fight?

This post was wrote earlier in the week.  A day or so after my Uncle passed away.

I've not been around my Aunt and Uncle much since I got married.  I moved back to my home state 18 years ago this fall.  Prior to doing so, I spent a great deal of time w/my Aunt D and Uncle D.  They were truly my heros. I looked up to them. I watched every single bit of their parenting.

 My Aunt D was as sarcastic and religious as they come.  She loves the Lord.  She loves her husband.  She loves her children.  And my Uncle D was as gentle as any man I knew.  He loved his wife.  Oh' did he love his wife.  He adored each of his 4 children.  Shortly after I came back to my home state they added to their family.  Their baby turned 16 the day D passed away.

I wasn't acutely aware of D's issues with depression.  It is a givenn when you live in constant pain.  Approx. 10 years ago D had an accident and hurt his back.  Not long after that my dh had a very similiar injury to his back.  I hope and pray that my dh's issues w/his back never get as severe as my Uncle D's did. 

The last time I saw D was 2 years ago when we our family visited Wa State for Easter Break.  My children met the other side of my family. That they never had any idea was there.  My daughter made a connection with D & D's youngest daughter.  We adored Lil J.  Who is not so little anymore.  She is a beautiful 16 yr old young lady.  Without a daddy.  Dear Lord my heart breaks for her.

My Aunt/Uncle are really the only people who know about the abuse that I endured at the hand of their brother/brother-in-law.  When I lived with my grandparents and my aunt and uncle = D/D made it very clear to me that my birth vessel was never to be seen on any of their property.  And even more so that I was justified in my feelings/thoughts about him.  My mother knows.  She chooses to ignore and be in denial.  She was abused greatly by him.  My Aunt and Uncle were very aware of the abuse she endured at the hand of his addictions and stupidity.

The emotions I've had over D's death have been wide.  Anger, hurt, pure sadness...and joy and happiness.  Those last 2 seem a bit odd in a way.  However, not so much when you've lived several years a life of suicidal ideation.  And I'm sure in my Uncle D's case a decade of uncontrollable pain.  He can dance freely.  And there is no doubt in my mind he is racing those cars, dancing and rejoicing in heaven as he is no longer in pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So much more to say.  However, as I said in yesterday's post....I need to take a break.  I will be posting a few "drafts" over the next lil bit.