Have you ever wanted to die?
It isn’t a pleasant feeling. There seems to be no other answer. Everyone seems to hate you, you can’t seem to do anything right, and it seems that the world would be better off without you. It is easier to sleep than exist. Every waking moment you are reminded why you shouldn’t be here, why it is worthless.
You lash out. Nothing matters anymore. You won’t be here for long. You can’t take the pain any longer. You want it to end. The idea of the pain ending gives you a glimmer of hope. If I only could sleep forever. If only I could disappear. If only I could die…
If only I could die…
I could die…
I could die…
I want to die.
Two weeks ago, I wanted to end my life. I had lost everything important to me. I was a shadow of the person I used to know as “me”. I felt more of a burden on my family and friends then worth the air I was breathing.
On that Friday, I cried and slept. When I slept, I had some relief. I would wake up, and start crying immediately. I wanted nothing then to go back to sleep.
I could die…
While I was half sleeping half avoiding being awake, I started thinking about how I could do it.
Which way would be the most effective? Did I want people to find my body? How do I leave everyone in a way that they won’t notice I am gone? So this pain ends. So I no longer have to suffer the loss of everything I love.
If you have ever had suicidal thoughts, you are not alone. Depression, when it is chronic, and when it is very severe, can leave you wanting to end your life.
When someone is suicidal, their brain chemicals and patterns are malfunctioning!
I have a mother that happens to be a Professor of Psychiatric Nursing. I was taught early on that feelings such as those described above, are not normal. It means you are ill and need treatment. That is it. You are not bad for wanting to take your own life, you are not wrong. It is something you talk about in your family. While it may be hard, it should be the same conversation has having a broken arm. Something is not working in your body the way it should, and it needs to be fixed.
When someone is suicidal, you call professionals.
As I was plotting my own demise, I knew something was wrong. I still didn’t care much. I really didn’t care at all. I yelled at my best friend. I screamed at my mom on the phone. “I HATE MY LIFE”!! I begin texting her how I was going to end my life, that it didn’t matter anymore. I was doing actions that I have seen from other people who were depressed, except it was almost like I couldn’t stop myself. I knew I shouldn’t feel this way, I didn’t care.
My mother called my friend and said she was worried. How do I know? I asked him. My friend said “Yes, I just told her to love you.”
FUCK YOU FRIEND! I’ll show her, I thought. I texted my mom again telling her she had failed at trying to save me, haha.
Wow. Who is this person? I realized I needed to go somewhere. I told my friend. I said I wanted to die, and then said never mind, then came back and threatened again. He was getting the hint.
Should I call the crisis line?
“I don’t care!” I screamed. He started to dial. I left the room. I had two choices. I could tell the crisis line the truth, and they would admit me and I would go downtown most likely with the police (against my will). I could lie and tell them I’m fine and then kill myself later.
I didn’t like either really in the end. I was so depressed that the thought of killing myself correctly didn’t even seem worth the time.
I walked back into the room that my friend was in.
“I need to go to the psychiatric hospital,” I said. He nodded.
When someone is suicidal, you get them help.
I ended up staying at Aurora Behavior Health for 11 days. It was rough. I cried, I still didn’t want to exist.
I was in the right place. I was getting help.
We had nurses on the floor 24/7, dispensing our medication for us, both for psychiatric issues and over the counter medicine. We had a Psychiatric Doctor we would see once a day. There was a Social Worker who helped us plan our next step work with us.
We couldn’t leave the floor. There were no sharp items. We had therapy 3 to 4 times a day regarding different topics, all regarding the mind, body and spirit. We had meals 3 times a day, and could sleep, watch TV or do puzzles. No smart phones. No internet. No computers. We were here to get better.
Slowly, we did.
Why are people suicidal?
Good question. Unfortunately there isn’t one answer. Chronic Depression may be an issue. This could happen because of a loss of a loved one. It could be because the person are genetically prone to depression and/or anxiety (hello!). Maybe it is an undiagnosed disorder. Maybe drugs and alcohol are an issue (alcohol is a depressant and the worst thing you could drink when you are really really sad!). It could be that the person is on the wrong medication or stopped taking their medication or is coming off medication.
The reason doesn’t matter.
All that matters is that when you feel like there is no hope, that is when you know to call professionals. Do not take action. Do not avoid it. Get help.
What happened with me?
Hindsight is 20/20 I say. Why did I reach that rock bottom? I could say it was my Fibromyalgia illness, the loss of my relationship and family, the home I have known for the last 3 years. The loss of my self. That is what I would have said that first day in the hospital.
However, almost two weeks later, two days out of the hospital, I feel amazing. I feel like my old self. How did this happen? Is this too good to be true?
No, it isn’t. While in the hospital my medication changed drastically. That was the only environment that I was going to be able to change my medication drastically and be safe.
I am off of Paxil, which was not a good antidepressant to begin with, and is very hard to get off of.
My dose of Cymbolta doubled. This is the stuff that was making my Fibro go away. Its really gone double the dose!
Also I am on a new medication.
I am a new person. No, I’m not a new person. I’m me again. I’m back!!
A bit about psychiatric medication:
- It takes about 3-6 weeks to start working 100%. It is a slow process.
- You cannot just start and stop psychiatric medication like you can other medication. That will just make you worse.
- We know very little about how our brains work, and the same medicine that works for someone, may not be a good fit for someone else.
- Therapy is always recommend in adjunction to psychiatric medicine. Don’t expect to pop a pill and fell magically better without working on your brain’s pathways.
Why am I writing all of this and publishing it publicly?
Because I am not ashamed. I was sick. I got help. Now I’m on the road to recovery. I feel better than I have in months. I’m unstoppable, and all the circumstances I had before no longer matter! I know I can do anything. Where has this girl been?
I remember in the hospital, talking to my brother Myles. He was calm, nice, sweet, understanding. I hadn’t talked to him in a few months. It was great to hear his voice.
It hit me when he said “Hilary, I don’t want to live in a world without you. If anybody can start from scratch, it is you.”
During the whole time I was suicidal, I didn’t think once about my brother, any of my siblings. I realized there is NEVER going to be NOBODY that will NOT MISS ME. NEVER EVER.
If you think otherwise, it is the depression/disorder/drug/etc talking. Don’t listen to it.
I was granted the clarity to check myself in. I met in that hospital beautiful, amazing people. They were fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, of all ages and walks of life. We all had different stories of how we ended up here.
Many closed their eyes thinking they were going to breath their last breath. Luckily for them, someone noticed something. Someone found them and knew what to do. They could have easily ended their life and shattered the lives of everyone around them.
They were given second chances. Not everyone is.
I promise you, you will get through this when you reach out for help. Let the professionals take care of you. Listen to them. Go to therapy, use your medication as prescribed.
There is no reason for any of us to leave this world because of a mental illness. It is an illness!
I am writing this, so that someone can have a second chance before they take the risk of losing their life. So you can call 911 when your friend drunk dials you and says she wants to die. When your dad texts you saying he wants to end his life, when your little sister writes on her Tumblr blog that life isn’t worth living, when you know something is wrong.
Reach out for your friend, loved one, family member, or even yourself! Reach out and get help.
May not one more person die from suicide. May it be common knowledge that if you want to kill your self, you reach for the phone, just like when you break your arm, you go to the emergency room.
There is nothing wrong or right about it. You are just ill, and you need help from professionals.
I was just ill. I got help. Now I feel much better.