I Want To Die

I've been intensely suicidal since Thursday without much interruption, and I expect that at least a few people reading this will be super concerned and wonder what to do about it but I want to explain that it's not always that serious. I can only speak for myself, naturally, but I find many people misunderstand suicidal ideation. Mine kind of comes in levels. Let me explain.

Level 1: Where the fuck did that come from?

I could be doing anything, be anywhere, in any kind of mood and my brain will insert the thought, "I want to die" right into my stream of consciousness. What? Why? I'm sitting in my doctor's office right now. And like, not even the right kind. The vagina doctor. Now? Why now? Or, I'm out with my friends. I don't have time for this. Or more often I'm driving and spacing out. Now's not a good time for this, brain. It leaves as quickly as it came.

Level 2: Incessant, dispassionate chanting

This is an obvious step up from the first level. Instead of a single thought, it's like a chant from a dispassionate protester who's not entirely sure why they're even at the rally. That rally is in my head, and it's about me dying for some reason. The thoughts aren't completely clear on the why, but they brought a spiffy sign. It's annoying more than anything.

Level 3: Paralyzed

The thoughts have stepped it up and now I'm trapped in bed or some other place, not moving, because it's so bad that I don't really have the energy to even roll over without considering it for a while. I'm doing everything I can without moving to stay alive. I've let my arm get painfully numb. I've let my stomach cramp from hunger. I've let my tongue swell in my mouth from dehydration. But I'm alive.

Level 4: 123GO, 123GO, 123GO!!!

I've stepped over the threshold. My thoughts, no longer content with sitting back passively, have now taken the steering wheel both literally and figuratively and start to drive my actions to end it. I've nearly crashed my car, took pills, cut, or drowned myself. I haven't actually done any of those things. Not ever.

I imagine there is a level 5, and that's when I'll actually try, but I've worked like hell to keep from going there. I'm not so naive as to think it will never be a part of my repertoire. So where have I been since Thursday? Started at a 2, then jumped to 4, back down to 3, then 2 to finish out work on Friday. Stayed that way until all of Sunday where it was a mix of 2, 3, and 4 and this morning I was a mix of 3 and 4. My med doc wanted me to go inpatient. I probably should have. I'm scared. I'm managing.

Remission

The scariest part of getting better is remembering all of the other times you got better before and how bitter you felt when it went away again. I once had a two-week remission from my depression. I can't explain what happened, and for people who don't know what it's like it might be hard to understand, but I was just, without explanation, free from all of my depressive symptoms for two glorious weeks. I was productive, happy, and the tapes in my head were mysteriously not present. This has happened exactly once in my life. Besides that, I've had a couple of good days to string together, but basically I've suffered from depression for as long as I can remember.

Recently my brain decided to get over my most recent trauma and I've been much happier since. Even while I watch the people I love struggling, my brain has managed to stay afloat. I'm productive, calm, happy, and I can even relax (no small feat for a deeply traumatized person who carries the trauma in their body in the form of low-key tension so bad that every professional that's ever done muscle work on me is alarmed). I've had much less hours at work, a bounty of new clients to work with, time with my husband, and time for self-care. It feels nice to be able to do my hair and makeup more often now. It's how I do some of my self-care. I've also continued therapy, done my affirmations more mornings than not, journaled a bit, got a professional reiki session, and attended a meditation class. EMDR sessions start in November. I'm hopeful, but cautiously so.

A lot has changed about my life recently, and the brain likes novelty, so it's probably giving me an extra dose of feel-good chemicals that I don't usually get because, you know, depression. This isn't like that one remission I had before. That felt like a whole different level of great. Still, I wonder and fear how long this will last. I hope this is just the way life is right now, and not just another remission, but I know better than that.

It Hurts

This is not to diminish the experience of those who deal with chronic pain. I hope it's not taken that way at all. I'm in psychological pain all of the time. I can't remember a time that that wasn't true. It doesn't help that I can't remember significant portions of my childhood.

That's annoying, by the way. Like, I'm kind of scared of what my brain decided to hide in my subconscious and I've gotten little tastes of what it had hidden for years and it wasn't nice. Still, I'm a fan of actually knowing myself and understanding why I feel the way I feel, behave the way I behave, and think the way I think. I'd rather know, honestly. I'm safe now. I can handle it. To that end, I'm getting EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) therapy to sort those things out as much as they can be sorted. See related graphic.

Anyway, back to my constant psychological pain. Most of my personal therapeutic work in the past 9 years has been about maintaining and managing myself. I've successfully distracted myself and sometimes even forgot how much psychological pain I was in. I don't know what changed in recent years, but it's like I had whatever junk psychological pain reliever ripped away from me all of a sudden and ow holy shit ow I forgot how much I actually hurt ow. Maybe it's the stress and trauma I've endured in the last couple of years. I don't know. It finally got to be too much again and active suidicality became such a constant that I reported the thoughts to my husband as casually as telling him how work went.

The pain had gotten so intense with the trauma of recent months that my anxiety hitched a ride and made the end of my agency work a living nightmare. Perhaps it's not true, but I felt like a shitty therapist. I had to pull back on my emotional labor in my personal life and started to feel like a shitty friend. I missed my friends and activities and affiliations and so very few people seemed to care or be able to respond to my cries for help. The ones who did were golden, of course, but I had grown accustomed to hunkering down in the vast love I had before. The adjustment was hard when I had to step away from that. Painful.

I don't know what clicked lately, but suddenly I don't miss Novitas any more. I don't regret it, mind you, but I don't get that sting of jealousy and longing looking at pictures my friends post from there and status updates showing they're going. I'm actually relieved to not be there. Friends have asked me already if I'd consider going back if X happens or Y is no longer a factor and I've said yes or I'd consider it but at this point I don't think I would. I always loved that community and that game but like most things in my life it wasn't until I got distance and embraced the trauma of being forced at that distance that I realized the negative aspects of the relationship I had with the community. I was so in love with them that I couldn't be honest about the flaws. I don't believe those things will ever change, so I guess considering whether or not I'd return if they did is kind of a useless thought exercise.

But that's not what this is about. This is about my pain. It's subsided to normal levels. There was an intense surge there, and very few truly understand the depth of pain I'd been dealing with ever since. I'd smile and actively be thinking, "I want to die." I'd be at work and wishing I'd been in a fatal car accident on the way there. I'd be holding loved ones close and wishing I'd never met the people I lost so I didn't have to feel the pain. I was in crippling amounts of psychological pain, and it was hard to describe to anyone. Even the ones I could describe it to naturally took it for granted that a good day meant I wasn't feeling that, but of course that wasn't the case.

Anyway, like I said, the psychological pain is back to normal levels. No, I'm not okay. I haven't been okay for as long as I can remember. I'm maintaining. I'm managing. I'm not actively planning to end my life. That's the best I can do right now, maybe the best I've ever done. I'm headed toward a treatment plan that will open up the possibility for better than that. I've always said that I wish my brain could understand how wonderful my life is now. I'm not being abused by the one person who was supposed to love and protect me. Not any more. I'm not trapped. I have people who really and truly love me, a career I love, a safe home, lovely pets, more financial stability than I ever had before. My brain doesn't give a shit. The pain endures. I'm tired of living this way. It hurts.