What is Suicidal?

Websters dictionary says: “suicidal: adjective sui-cid-al  Simple definition of suicidal: 1)wanting to kill yourself : showing a desire to kill yourself 2)extremely dangerous : likely to cause your death : likely to cause great harm to yourself.

Full Definition of suicidal

  1. 1a:  dangerous especially to life:  destructive to one’s own interests

  2. 2:  relating to or of the nature of suicide

  3. 3:  marked by an impulse to commit suicide

sui·cid·al·lyadverb
Ok… don’t freak out. I’m not going to hurt myself. I’m not suicidal….. well, not by the above definition. But I am having a little difficulty dealing with my depression. I’ve dealt with depression my whole life, although I was diagnosed until I was older. And there are variables that can make it worse. (i.e. food allergies and medications that effect brain chemistry)
I can’t take depression meds because they do all kinds of weird things to me. We went through about 20 or so possibilities until I said “I’m done.” And I deal with that depression every day of my life. Some days are better than others but it’s only been this bad once before. And of course, I have a reason to be depressed on top of my regular everyday battle, so…. there’s that.
But honestly…… it is physically painful right now. And I’m feeling desperate for it to stop. And that terrifies me. Because during those times that I am feeling desperate for the pain to stop, my imagination goes to some really dark places. And I’m reaching out to all the wrong people. And the people I should be reaching out to are out of town or live on the other side of the mountains.
I constantly have to remind myself of how that would not be a good path to go down because of all the reasons I don’t want to be dead.
I started writing this particular blog several months ago. Before the actual legitimate reason I had to feel sad. I wanted to talk about the concept of not actually wanting to die, but often times feeling that if I had not woken up this morning, I’d be okay with that. But being that this is where we are now… this is where we are now….. this blog has kind of changed.  I’m not trying to be a needy bitch. I’m not writing this for attention. I’m trying to ask for help. And by help, I mean I just need someone to hang out with me for a little while. To talk to me, even if it’s just on chat or on the phone. To distract me. So that I have something else to focus on. Because sometimes there is only so much distraction I can give myself. And I’ve deleted the facebook apps off of my devices. Because that is proving to be just toxic during the above mentioned times.
I will get through this particular thing. Because I am strong. I always get through these things. And I am not weak because I ask for help. Weak people don’t ask for help. Strong people ask for help because they know when they can’t do it by themselves.
Reaching for help
So I’m sorry… if I’m annoying the frak out of you. And I suppose the only people in my life who won’t feel that way, are the only people worth being in my life, or so I am told.
So today is day three…. of the rest of my life. Today I poached a goose egg. I did some yard cleanup. I did a ton of laundry. Cleaned my room. Watched a movie with my Judah Buddah and he slept through a third of it on me. I called my dad. Because it’s father’s day, you know. Hope you called yours. Judah and I ate icecream together, because that is how we do. And I had thought about making mini scotch eggs today. But If I don’t have anyone to share them with…. I kind of feel like it’s a mute point. I like to cook. But only if other people are involved. Odd that I find no joy in it otherwise.
I desperately need to find a new hiking partner. Because I need to go hiking.
I think we are done here for today. Maybe tomorrow I will write about something different. This is to be one of my distractions. The writing. At least one of the people reading this remembers when I used to write every day.  Happy Father’s day. Have a good one.
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It’s Day One……

I am tired of anxiety every day. While I’m sitting at work and my chest is aching like someone just punched me in it and forgot to remove their fist…. I’m wishing I was on my treadmill so I can run it off or at least run till I fall down. When I get home, I just want a beer and to become one with a blanket. A beer drinking burrito. So… what to do?

Continue reading

My failure to write

When it comes to you, it comes at 3am. When you are snug in your bed, the thoughts come into your head, rushing in like a mad sea. And there is no place for you to sit and write. You do not have the proper tools and the bed is warm and the world is silent. And so there you lie, thinking all of your thoughts. And then later, when you so have the inclination to sit and attempt to put them down…. They have vanished.

My heart is so broken right now… but I find this is when I do the best writing. I have the best thoughts. I write the best stories. I am inspired by my imagination once again. I summon all my hopes and dreams and fantasies to the surface because I need them. I need something to cling to. Because I feel as though someone has ripped my beating heart from my chest, and I just want the pain to stop. The writing takes me to a place where I can escape from the pain for just a moment. Where I can release it from me… so that I can function. Where I can dream and glue my pieces back together.

I wish you guys could have seen the things I wrote on MySpace. But it’s all gone now. =(

I miss my desktop. I wonder if I should attempt to get another.

writing

 

 

Anything for love….. But that. 

She loved him. With every fiber of her being, she loved him. All she wanted In Life was to make him smile. He was her sun, her moon and her stars. She would have done almost anything for him. But when someone is doing something to you that hurts you, and they admit to knowing that it hurts you, admit to knowing it’s wrong, and admit to knowing that the thing that drives that is something broken within themselves, and yet they continue the same behavior over and over and over again. And do nothing to attempt to make a change to better themselves, to heal themselves, They are CHOOSING to hurt you. All the while apologizing, whispering words of love, practicing actions of love, and showering you with gifts. That isn’t love. It is something else. 
She realized after a time, that no amount of love she gave, no amount of patience, would ever change anything. And that the pain she felt constantly was of her own doing, simply because she CHOSE to continue to allow it.

So she chose to walk away. It did not mean that her love for him had changed. It simply meant that her love for herself had changed. There would still be pain, but it would fade over time. She would miss all the things about him she loved and long for them, but she would not miss the things that hurt. She would not hurt. 

She loved him. He was her sun and her moon and her stars. She would have done almost anything him. But masochism was not her cup of tea, and she was quite full up. Time to leave that universe behind and return to earth. 


(Photo by Kirsti Mitchell Photography) The Distant pull of remembrance from The Wonderland series

Black hole……

  I had found a happy. It was the most happiest happy I had ever felt. It was warm and fuzzy and safe. It was adventure and love and exploding joy.It was comfort and sanctuary. It was love….. More than I could fathom. 

And then a black hole opened up and sucked it all away. The visuals were surreal. Like a swirling unraveling of pixels…. Spiraling away into the black and then gone. I wish I could describe it in a way that you could visualize it. It is beauty and pain and magic and awful all at once. Mesmerizing…. A vividly enchanting nightmare I cannot wake from. 

I am…….

  
I am lost.
I am full of a sick feeling all the time. 
I am overwhelmed by the aching in my chest that won’t stop, and when I wake in the middle of the night I clutch the blankets to my chin and I cry and pray for hours for some higher being to please make it stop. 
I am terrified that if I am left to my own devices, at some point the desire to make this pain stop will result in an end I truly do not want. 
I am grieving. Not just the loss of you, but of the betrayal, the rejection, and the shattering of my dreams. 
I am confused. And maybe knowing the truth would help, maybe it would not. But your reasoning does not make sense to my stupid stupid heart, and so I can only believe it is false. 
I am alone. Because my best friend, my lover, my confidant has turned from me. 
I am beautiful. Even with my tears, inside and out, I am told. Even by you. 
I am worthy. Definitely worth unconditional never ending love.
But still….. I am lost. Right now I am lost.