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
1a: dangerous especially to life: destructive to one’s own interests
2: relating to or of the nature of suicide
3: marked by an impulse to commit suicide
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.
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.