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January 22, 2001
Wow! It's been a long time since I've written. I'm still here...still kicking. Barely. I've been very depressed lately. Yet, I haven't been cutting. I'm almost too depressed to even cut. This is one of the longest and worst lows I've ever felt. It's not good. But I'm hanging in there I guess. Sometimes I don't even know if I'm still here. I've lived with this for so long, and I still forget how bad it can feel. But last Saturday I had a high like I hadn't felt in a long time. I was on top of the world. And for the first time in almost 2 years I felt comfortable in my own skin. That is what I knew for so long, the highs and the lows...and I had forgoten how familiar that felt. It was almost magical. I could have done anything, the only thing I really did do was just enjoy the feeling. The feeling of remembering who I was, and am. I'm not on any meds now, and I haven't been for some time. I can't affoard them. And when I could, way back when, I wouldn't take them. Depression is a very viscious cycle. But I did want to share something with all of you. My new favorite movie is American Beauty . It reminds me of what I used to feel. This is an excerpt from the ending monolouge. If you haven't seen the movie...stop reading and go rent it!!!!
"I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel lik I'm seeing it all at once...and it's too much...my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst. And then I remember to relax...and stop trying to hold on to it. And then it flows through me like rain. And I can't feel anything but gratitude...for every...single...moment in my stupid little life. You have no idea what I'm talking about I'm sure. But don't worry, you will...someday."
American Beauty
February 6, 2001
It's funny how little I remember about my life. Sometimes at the end of the day, I think a person remembers so little about their life, they forget they are living.
I just went through my high school yearbook. 7 years later, and I couldn't remember a damn face. Well, some faces, but I was surprised to find that I didn't recognize a few people I was close with. Have I been trying so hard not to remember my life that I've actually succeeded?
There are times I want to remember. I wish I could take all 21 years and relive them, but write down every second of it. Record it. That way I won't forget. But maybe I'm really just too scared to remember.
I had a dream the other night, a dream I didn't like. I was in my apartment, and there are these men that keep breaking in. After the first burly - no faced - man gets in, I manage to call the cops, and chase him out with a baseball bat. Of course the cops are waiting outside to catch him. Then as others make their way inside, I keep chasing htem out in increasingly violent ways - a broken bottle, a knife, and finnally a gun. But the last one just wouldn't be scared off. I had to shoot him several times, and drag his body out. Then the cops had to come in and gather the evidence. I had just shot and killed a man, in my own home.
I'm not sure what I did while they were gathering, you know how time can pass in an instant in a dream. Sometimes I wish life were like that. When I was allowed back in, there is blood all over my walls, and finger print dust on everything else. And I am very scared and shaken.
My mom and dad are there, and they are sitting on my bed. I run over to them and curl up between them. I tell them I'm scared, and that I don't want to stay in this apartment anymore. They turn to me and say 'where else would you go?' They tell me this is my home now, and there's nowhere else for me to be, and I should start picking up the pieces.
I woke up frantic and scared. Not scared that people were trying to hurt me, but that suddenly I had no where to run.
My dad keeps asking me how excited I am to be out on my own, and starting my own life. I think he's just sad he may be nearing the end of his. I'm sure all he remembers was how new and exciting everything is, but what he forgets is how completly terrifying it all is. Sometimes I wake up at night in a total panic, because I don't know where I am. And I miss my home. My parent's home. I miss my bedroom smelling of vanilla and scented candles, and the roof right outside my window. I used to climb out it at night, and look up at the moon, and wonder if it was possible I was the lonliest person on the Earth. I would cry, and sing to myself.
But that's not my room anymore, and it never will be again. And that's what scares me the most, if that is no longer home, and this doesn't feel like home - then where is it?
March 23, 2001
This is a journal entry I've been writing for awhile --In my mind anyway. I've been writing and re-writing, and now that I've finally sat down to write --- I'm not sure how it went. I had all these beautiful, poetic things to say. And now my mind is blank. But it's something I need to share. It's about something I just wasn't prepared for. I love this website. Don't get me wrong. I love talking to people, and recieving support, as well as giving. But I never though it would hurt this badly.
I should probably start at the begining. When I first posted this website --- I had no idea what kind of response I'd get. Suddenly I started getting letters from all over the U.S., from all over the world actually. One of the first people who ever wrote to me was *Angel. She was this amazing high school student. She was a cheerleader, star in school plays, and she was supposed to go to Stanford next year --- but she was also a cutter. She and I wrote back and forth (as much as we could, some of you know how long it takes me to write back! (sorry)). And *Angel was my friend. Why the past tense you ask? Because she's dead now. She cut one night, went to deep, and she bled to death. A week and a half later I got an e-mail from her mother. If any of you know anything about AOL, you can save your e-mails on your hard drive --- and anyone can get at them. That's how her mom found my e-mail addy, and my website. I'm not sure how to react. I'm not sure what to say to her mom. I still haven't written back. She had no idea *Angel was cutting. My biggest fear is that *Angel didn't really want to die. What if she just cut, a little deeper than usual, was scared, and just went to bed.
The day I read that e-mail I cried forever. I haven't cried for that in some time. But it was something I was not prepared for. Someone I had come so close to --- without ever meeting --- leaving. I think about her all the time. And I guess part of me wants you to think about her too.
July 26, 2001
There are moments in your life, moments which can be seen with such clarity, you
suddenly feel as though you are uncovering the great secrets of existence. I’ve had many
of these moments, and each time, the moment never ceases to feel stronger, or more
poignant than the first, or second, or third. Right now, in this moment, I swear, I am sure
I am the saddest person alive.
Today, I suddenly realized my life isn’t measured in time, or accomplishments, or in day in
and day out events. My life is measured by how depressed I am. I’m never truly happy,
only a little less sad, and every day it kills me. It’s just a little death.
I have often thought my depression has only made me stronger. Yet, now I think I would
be better off with out these feelings. However, with out my thoughts and feelings,
without my depression, I don’t know who I would be. I don’t even really know who I am.
Sometimes I go for days, weeks, even months, without feeling like I am an outsider. But
all the other times, it’s just me. Watching others, studying how they act. I study how they
live without analyzing their place on this earth.
I am always looking at my life as though it were a movie, as though someone is actually
watching, and caring about my character. I constantly narrate my life in my own head.
Actually, the way I live in my head is kind of creepy. Sometimes I wish I had a tape
recorder in my mind, so I’d never lose a thought, and never forget a lesson I think I have
learned. But maybe that just goes to show I often live in the past, trying desperately to
hold on to what I only half remember.
I keep thinking how nice it would be to go back in time, where things were safe. Yet, at
the time it didn’t feel all the comfortable. I was just this miserable 5 years ago. It’s only
now I can look back and think how safe it was, now that I know everything that was to
happen. Sometimes I think I spend so much time wishing I were some place else, I forget
to look around, and discover where I am. I know 5 years from now, I’ll wish I were back
here.
It’s a weird feeling; always wanting to be some place you’re not, never happy in the place
you are in.
September 11, 2001
There are no words to describe what I witnessed today. Well, I guess
witnessed is a relative word. I was no where near the hysteria in New York,
or the terror in Washington, D.C. But the fear I, and every other American
felt, was a shared terror. I have never been so scared in my entire life.
And I am miles, and miles away.
All I could think was 'this isn't supposed to happen in America,' 'what
the hell is happening!' You hear about, and study wars in school, but it's
always somewhere else, or too long ago, for the actions to really hit home.
I remember when I visited the Arizona memorial in Hawaii, seeing the old file
footage, the carnage, and the wreckage, and feeling just awful. But again,
it seemed so long ago.
But today it hit home.
I know this sounds horrible,
but I'm too young to appreciate so much history. I'm not sure appreciate is
the right word, but understand.
September 11th, was something out of a fiction novel, or a movie. Watch
the footage...it doesn't even seem real! I can't grasp this. I watched as
people jumped from 100 stories up...jumped off the World Trade Towers. There
was one man and woman who held hands as they plummeted together. I haven't
eaten in two days -- I can't, my stomach is just a knot.
I can't even imagine what the people there are feeling, or the people who
knew someone there.
PresidentBush says these acts 'were intended to frighten the American people,'
well WE ARE FRIGHTENED, and we are SAD, and we are ANGRY.
And yet, we have no one to fight against.
Yesterday someone at work came up to me, and asked me if I had had time
to cry yet, he said -he had. But I hadn't. I was on the verge of tears all
day, but didn't get that chance until I was in my car, and on the way home at
11 o'clock at night. And I cried, and I cried, and I'cried. I can't hold in
the tears, and I don't even know what they are tears of. Just horror.
I can't stand to sit here and listen to what happened any more, but I
can't turn off the t.v. either. And there you see it...over and over and
over, and you can't stop watching, you can't stop reliving the horror. I
can't imagine what it felt like to be in those buildings -- your only option
to jump. I can't imagine what it felt like to be on one of those planes --
calling family, telling them one last time, you love them.
It's incredible -- how small one person is, and how much terror, horror,
death, and destruction one, or two, or three, or just four people on one
plane can create. Then multiply that by 4.
I'm sick. I'm just sick over the whole issue.
As they say this date will live in infamy. A black day in American
History. I think all of our lives have been changed.
September 21, 2001
I am extremly suicidal right now. If I'm still alive this time next week,I will be really
surprised. Actually, no I'll be depressed. Next weekend is my 22nd birthday. I hate
birthdays. Sure I always act really excited. I'm the kind of person who counts down the
days. But what's really going on in my head is anger. Anger that I've been too cowardly
to kill myself yet.
This will be the first birthday I've ever spent alone.
My boyfriend and I just broke up. Yeah, that would be the same boyriend I've written
about before. The one who always stood by me. We were together for more than 3
years. Well he hasn't been standing by me for sometime, and now he can't take anymore.
Happy Birthday to me.
I really can't blame him though. I'm not easy to be around. And things have been on a
very steep downward spiral in the last year. All I've been able to do is keep myself alive.
And I'm not even sure I would call this alive. I've lost all hope in everyone and everything
around me.
September 21, 2001 (later)
I've never been so far away from okay in my life. I've really lost it: gone off the deep end.
I need help. I seriously need to check myself into a hospital.
September 22, 2001
Okay. Let me explain something. When I ask for help, I need help. I rarely let this thing
out of me. So when I’m hurting so bad that I can’t take it any more. I really really cry for
help. It’s like standing on the top of a mountain with a bull horn. Screaming ‘hello don’t
you fucking people see me.’ ‘can’t you hear me?’ I’m the master at subtle hints. And
some not so subtle hints. But those times when I really lose it. The times when I’m more
insane than sane, that’s when you might just be able to get inside. I might let you see what’s in there. But you have to remain calm. You have to relax. If I’m freaking out, and the person I go to freaks out.
It’s not going to do either one of us any good. If everyone panics -- you all lose. But if everyone stays calm and just one person panics, the rest of you sane people can probably calm that person.
When I am suicidal you are looking directly at the
inside of me. Right into the center of me. but if you start freaking out and calling me 82
times a day, showing up at my doorstep, and calling my parents and getting them involved,
as soon as any of this panic starts to happen. I go into defense mode. I immediatly stuff
everything into a box and seal it. Then the box goes into a safe, and I lock it, then the safe goes into the valut and the door is closed for good.
and BOOM ----You miss your opportunity. “sorry folks better luck next time.” “but we have a lovely parting gift for you, bob - go ahead and tell them what they’ve won.”
You’ve created a person who hates you. Because for a split second you all became just
as insane as I was, and I can’t handle that.
So when’s the next time the walls go down and the vault gets opened and the box is
unsealed? Probably not for a long time. Maybe never. Because I’ll remember how
everyone acted. And as sick as I am right now, because I am feeling such imense pain,
when you all act like that it makes me sicker.
And you all are probably thinking...what the hell does she want...we ignore her, she gets upset...we try and help, she gets upset. And if you don’t understand right now, why I’m upset... then I’m sorry --- you don’t get it...better luck next time...but I can’t help you. I can’t help you help me...I need to help me help me right now.
Everyone in my life has always just given up on me. That’s why i don’t tell very mnay
people about this hting living inside of me. +At first I’m just a pet project to them. They
ask, they care...they want to know everything. Why? Because it makes them feel good to
think ‘ wow i’m helping someone...oh god maybe i’m even saving her life.’ it makes them
feel great. so this goes on and on and on. And eventually a few months later...they get
restless. The shimmer of the madness has worn off. And it’s just me sad tired and
drepressed. The curosity about mental illnes has left them...and now they are just left with
me. ‘passenger’s please fasten your seatbelts...we’re in for a bumpy ride.’ and they start
screaming ‘no...stop the ride...i want to get off!’ and they do...and the ride goes on with
out them.
September 30, 2001
Today's my birthday. I spent the day alone. In my living room slicing myself up. Happy Birthday to me.
I've never felt so alone in my life. My parents didn't even call me to wish me a happy birthday today. I know I'm just feeling sorry or myself. But I'm in a really, really, bad place right now. I've never though so much about suicide as I have in the last week.
December 8, 2001
I'm sorry I haven't written in so long! But I'm still alive! I got a lot of letters from all of you, thanks for caring so much! I'm sorry I haven't written back. I've been going through a really bad time. Worse than it's been in several years.
But there is some good news to report. I've had a couple of really, really good days lately. Do you ever have those days where you just wake up, and you are sure that you are actually moving twoard something...rather than trying to stand still, and remain unnoticed? They don't come very often. At least for me they don't come often. In fact there are only two other times I've ever had one of those days. One was when I was in 8th grade. My ill grandmother was living with us, I was depressed, and in general very unhappy. This was right after the first time I ever tried to commit suicide. And one day this sudden calm came over me. I remember it so well. It was a summer evening. I was looking out of my bedroom window, and I could see the sun setting over the homes in my neighborhood. The sky was lit up with brillant orange, pink, and blue. For the first time ever, the fog in my head cleared. It wasn't just a 'wow everything's going to be okay!' moment. It was more than that. It's actually kind of hard to put into words. Actually, I don't think it's possible to describe the feeling at all. I just hope all of you have felt it at one time.
The second time I ever got this feeling, it lasted for more than 5 months. Those were the best months of my life. I finally felt like I knew what the hell I was doing. So much of my life has been spent feeling lost. And when you finally feel like you found the map, it's an amazing feeling. But, I digress. The second time was after I graduated high school. I graduated pretty young, at 16. I was taking summer college classes at an art school, film and television classes. I was going to school in Chicago, and meeting so many new people. I don't know why everything felt so clear, but it did. I felt like I knew where I was going. I was very in touch with my depression and all of my feelings. I was very open with everything. I actually woke up everyday without panicking about everything in my life. My heart no longer started to pound right when I woke up. I no longer woke up to a churning stomach, and dread.
I don't know what changed, but I think life is all about chapters. My life is very cylical. I go through really bad times, and probably treat myself very badly. Then something happens in me, and it's the begining of a new chapter.
So what began this new chapter right now? I don't know. I recently had closure to some important relationships in my life. And though they may not have worked out like I wanted them to, something in me suddenly feels like they weren't a waste of time. I like to think you learn important lessons from every experience. And even though I know this, it doesn't make pain any easier to take. But they say time heals all. And maybe they are right.
So this chapter in my life isn't begning with a brilliant sunset. But the begning of good things don't always need a lot of fanfare. Sometimes simple things are just as beautiful.
December 19, 2001
Full Of Grace
I feel just like I'm sinking,
If all of the strength,
I know I could love you much better than this.
Full of Grace.
It's better this way.
I'm pulled down by the undertow.
If all of the strength,
I know I could love you much better than this.
Full of Grace.
I know I could love you much better than this.
This is a song I dedicate to myself...I could and should love myself better. So why can't I?
March 31, 2002
My depression always seems to come to a climax. Actually climax may not be the right word. I think 'climax'insinuates excitment, or even suspense. Neither of which suit depression very well. I guess it would be better to say my depression always has a peak. No that's not right either. Peak insinuates a high, or maybe a good time. I guess what I'm saying is eventually you hit rock bottom. I was trying to come up with some original way to describe it, but I guess I've failed. I settled for the old stand-by 'rock bottom.' Though it may be a cliche, it's true. Isn't that why things become cliches? Because as trite as they might sound, deep inside they hold some nugget of truth.
So rock bottom it is. It's a valley of sadness that sometimes goes on for days, weeks, or even months. And really, 'sadness' doesn't do the feeling justice. There are no words to do the feeling justice. The point I'm talking about is when you just feel so bad, you don't even care to do anything. Sometimes you're depressed, and you kind of just want to cry, or cut, or plan your own death. But when you get to this place - you literally just sit and stare at a wall.
I don't want to cry, I don't want to cut, I don't want to talk to a friend, I don't want a parent, or a roommate, or a brother, or a boyfriend, I don't want to sleep, I don't want to read good book, I don't want to watch a movie, I don't want to see I Love Lucy, (my favorite show, I'm a little obsessed), I dont' want to curl up with my security blanket named 'Stan,' I dont' want to eat yummy goldfish crackers, or carrots and celery, I don't want a ceasar salad, I don't want to hold my kitty, I don't want to smile, I don't want to go out, I don't want to get up, I don't want to work, I don't want to write, I don't want to pretend anymore, and most of all I don't want help. But, this thing is becoming more apparent everyday. People are catching on, I'm not as cheerful as I usually am. You can only hide this to a certain extent.
I hate myself. No, no that's not true. Hate is not the right word. I hate brussel sprouts, I hate when my cat climbs my curtains, I hate the color orange, and sometimes I think I hate my parents. But I don't hate myself. (Boy I can't find any of the 'right' words tonight. I guess I'm losing my touch.) No, I loathe myself. Loathing is more than hate, or dislike. It's a shame that makes you sick inside.
People have asked me what it will take to make me better right now. A quick fix, to get me int he right mindset to get some real help. Unfortunatly, right now, there is absolutly nothing I can think of, that's going to make this better.
I have run from place to place. Setting goals for myself, thinking 'if I just get here, I'll feel better, I'll be happy.' = ) Of course it never works.
April 20, 2002
I hurt all over. I just hurt. I hurt physically, emotionally, and mentally. People says it's all in your head, and that's the thing, it really is. Only that doesn't mean I can control it. I don't have a broken bone, or heart, or spirit, I have a broken head. And it's funny to hear people say I seem happier than I've ever been. Because, on any given day I hate myself. On any given day I think I'm more depressed than I've ever been. On any given day I come home planning my death. And on any given day I could go through with it. Just not today.
May 16, 2002
I used to do this thing when I was little, to ease my fears. I would lie alone in bed at night, and I would be scared of the dark. So I would screw my eyes shut as tightly as I possibly could, because I told myself that if I couldn't see the monsters, then they couldn't see me either.
June 4, 2002
I do not have good news to report. I guess I haven't had good news for sometime. Two weeks ago I began cutting again. It had been 8 months. I found myself not knowing what else to do, where else to turn, and I was so angry and frustrated I just did what I knew would make me feel better. I have not been feeling well lately. I've had a series of lows that just keep getting lower. I was telling a friend the other day, it's as bad now, as when I went into the hospital at 16. That was 6 years ago. And actually I think this is worse.
Two weekends ago I began cutting again. I was in a low that didn't break for days. I had been crying for nearly two days straight, and I was sitting on my bathroom counter with a razor, dragging it against my legs. I reached up to wipe my eye, and smeared blood on my face. And when I looked in the mirror I was apalled. For the first time EVER I realized this is not normal. I looked at myself, with my tear streaked face, my swollen puffy eyes, red blood smeared across my cheek, razor in hand, a river running down my leg, and pooling on the counter, and suddenly I was disgusted by myself. I was very scared, and very alone.
I've always prided myself on not needing anyone else in my life. I've always thought: It's every man for himself - FUCK everyone else. And so, I've always had at least myself. But at that moment...on that day...I didn't even have me. And that really scared me.
I've started cutting pretty regularly now. I began carrying razors with me. Sometimes I cut in the bathroom at work, when I just can't take people anymore.
I hope you all are doing better than I.
June 7, 2002
THUD! And there it is folks, rock bottom. I knew it was coming soon. I've known it for months. I could feel it coming in every fiber in my body. I've been here before. I knew something was going to happen in my life, which was already spiraling out of control, to wake me up. I was going to get so dark and desperate, that I would probably explode, and then, I'd be ready to get better again. This is how it happens, see.
I've been cutting pretty badly again. And feeling pretty badly too, which pretty much goes without saying. I've been in this pseudo relationship/friendship, which has been nothing but bad for me. And it's not his fault, nor is it mine. You stick two mentally unhealthy (very unhealthy) people together, it doesn't turn out well. And finally I couldn't take it anymore. So I wrote him a letter (he called it a novel) about everything I've been feeling - not intending to ever give it to him. And then I went gun shopping.
I applied for a firearm license several months ago, and got it in April. I could be just a 72 hour waiting period away from offing myself. But I never made it into the store. I completly broke down. And when I say break down, I mean one of those honnest to goodness break downs. Everything just disapears, and you just fucking cry, because there's nothing else you can do.
I drove home through the tears, and cut. I cut like I've never cut before. Then I decided to give him the letter I'd written. They were things I definitly needed to say. I've never been so sure of anything in my life.
Of course when he got home and found the letter at his door, he was not happy. It was not an overly harsh letter, but it was not a particularly nice letter. He called me, and we decided it would be best we didn't talk for awhile. Which is probably best, and I fully expected that. But it still hurts. He's my best friend right now, in a bad he treats me like shit kind of way. Honnestly our relationship is so hard to describe or understand. I kept trying to tell myself I should ignore the fact that he treated me like shit, because I needed to be a good friend, and be above that, and understand why he needed to do it. He always told me 'you take it out on the ones you love most.' And for awhile that made it okay...in a weird way. But it can only be okay for so long.
After our conversation, I don't think I've ever been so low. I rarely reach out for help. Especially when I'm down. But I called everyone here I knew. Desperate to talk to someone. I finally called my best friend in Florida, (ignoring the time difference) and just cried to her for an hour - after waking the poor girl up at 3 am. And I made a decision.
I need help.
I will not survive this without it.
I know I need help. This much I know is true. But it's such a scary fucking thing. It's so hard to describe how getting out of such a shitty place can be scary, but it is. I've never been so scared in my entire life.
Today I made an appointment with a counselor. It's next Thursday. And I'm scared. But I know this is what I need to do.
I've done this before. Hit rock bottom, and gotten help. But it's going to be a little different this time, because I have no expectations. Before, I figured if I got help, I'd be cured for life, and just get better. Now I realize, I'll probably go back on meds for a while, and then take myself off, and go back through the whole thing again. Maybe. But it's okay. I don't need to go into this things, saying I need to get better right now, and forever.
It's kind of weird. Kind of like a drug addict or an alcoholic. They say you always fall back into it several times, before you can kick the habbit. I think it's the same with depression. It's a place in my life I know...and that's hard to just forget.
I'm doing this completly alone this time. Which kind of makes it even scarier. I don't have anyone right now. Except Annabelle, my cat. = ) LOL
But I know I need this. And this time I need to do more than just a monthly meeting with a doc, and meds. There are a lot of demons in my past I need to deal with. I will never get any better until I deal with my past. It's something I've shoved further and further away, thinking if I just kept shoving, it would fall off the face of the Earth. But now I think maybe I actually need to work in therapy.
There, I used the word. Therapy.
I don't know why I hate that word so much. Or why for the first time in my life, I am, fully and completly ashamed of needing help.
It's funny, I tell so many people to look into getting help. That getting help is okay. And I never had any problem with it until now.
But I think I've rambled for long enough tonight.
This isn't one of those moments of clarity, where everything seems like it's going to be okay. This is actually really scary. Which is maybe good. Maybe that means I'm due for real change. I should be scared. But right now...I think I'm okay. I forgot for a long time, that you need to take it one minute at a time. Looking at it in hours, days, weeks, or months is just too much to take at once.
Right now, in this minute, I'm okay. And I'll be okay in the next minute too...and eventually those minutes will lead to help...
I'm trying...that's all I want you to know.
I can do this.
June 13, 2002
I had my appointment today.
I'm not sure how I feel about it.
Just kind of ill.
I couldn't say anything I needed to, or wanted to. I tried my hardest not to cry, not to be scared, but the tears came anyways. And I didn't even know the woman, I didn't want her to see me cry, and I know this all sounds so stupid. But I felt stupid.
She asked me questions I couldn't bear to answer. I had to fill out this questionare about how I felt. I filled in all the little 'always' boxes to answer questions about how often I was sad, or depressed, or suicidal, or panicky. That was about as open as I could be. Filling in little boxes, hoping those black marks paint the picture of my desperation.
She asked me about my family, and how close we were. I told her I spoke with them occasionally, but we don't talk about the things that really matter. I've been told never to speak about my 'little' problem. She said that explained how I could sit there and cry, and talk about suicide, while smiling my head off and laughing. She told me I had to continue to pretend everything was fine, even as I'm sitting there admitting I need help. But that's what I do when I'm nervous or upset...I laugh. I can be bawling, and I laugh. It's not real laughter. She asked me why I do it and I told her because I have to. It's the only way I'll make it through.
Then she asked me how I would do it, kill myself. And of course I know how, but I could never say it out loud. Sure, I could write about it here. But I could never say it out loud. I told her I didn't know, I had no plan, and she called my bluff. I told her about the time when I was 13, and swallowed a bunch of pills. Not realizing that if you're going to kill yourself, you actually have to know what you're doing. You can't just swallow a bunch of pills all at once, you'll just throw them up. You have to know what you're doing.
She asked me why I finally decided to get help. And I all could muster up...all I could manage to say without completly breaking down...is that everything is just wrong. And that's it in a nutshell. Everything in my life just feels wrong right now. There is no right.
What I really wanted to say, though, what I really wanted to tell her, was that about a month ago I woke up on a beautiful Saturday morning, and I wanted to die. And I thought to myself, wow I've been wishing I weren't here for 10 years now. And the thought suddenly occured to me, that in another 10 years, it will have been 20. 20 years spent praying to be anything else, anywhere else, or nowhere at all. And that seemed very sad to me.
It's do or die.
Literally.
And so I guess I'm doing. But even doing seems very wrong right now. And I'm not doing it very well.
And mostly I'm just scared.
She told me I didn't have to feel this way anymore. And I wanted to tell her I didn't know how else to feel. I don't know anything but this. And that's sad too.
August 25, 2002
They walk away.
I guess there is only so much of me you can take.
I am annoying, I am depressing, I am sad, I am a downer.
I am scared, I am alone, I am lonely, I am awful.
I make people feel bad, just being around me.
And all I really want, is to not be this person, only I don't know how.
I am not doing well. I am not well at all. I saw the doctor just over a month ago. He
prescribed me effexor. It ISN'T working. I've never felt worse. I'm still always
depressed, and very suicidal.
I see him again in 2 days, I hope he just gives me what works. Prozac and Lithium did
wonders...but he wanted to try something new.
I've also started with a new therapist. She seemed nice, but because of $$$$, I'll only see
her about once a month. She told me to think about what I wanted to work on, for our
next visit. She asked me to think about whether I was there to stop cutting, or to work on
other issues.
My first reaction was 'Stop Cutting! Are you crazy?!' I didn't relay this reaction out loud.
And it was in the shower this morning (3 weeks later) I realized...I can't imagine stopping.
It's not because I don't want to...it's because I just feel so SHITTY on a daily basis, that I
can't imagine living without it. And maybe if I didn't feel shitty...it wouldn't be an issue.
In fact, I'm sure if I didn't need it to make me feel better, it wouldn't be an issue. What I
really need, is to work on the shittyness.
You always say "I've never felt worse than I do now." And the funny thing is...that you
always do. It always gets worse. You hear "there's no where to go but up." Only that's
not always true.
I just had someone try and convince me that “Today is the first day of the rest of my life.”
Which all in all, I’m sure is a good point of motivation for some. But for me...I rolled my
eyes...and tried to smile and say “you know, you’re right,” just out of politness.
I can say I've never been more suicidal than I am right now...but if you look back about a
year, I was saying the same thing.
All I know, is that I'm close to not being able to function, and the very last person I had
standing by me, has just told me "it's to stressfull to be in any relationship with you,
whether it's friendship - or more." ...and “I’m finally stable...and in control, and when
you’re down, I can’t stand it...it brings me down, which is not where I need to be.”
We were best friends, and then lovers....we were dating up until about 4 days ago...but
still friends. I’ve never needed anyone more in my life right now...but he’s gone...I
expected it. And I’m trying to acept it.
So now it's just me.
I mean, it's always been - just me - I don't let anyone in. It's how I stay strong.
Unfortunatly, it's what makes people walk away. I don't blame them...there's only so long
you can work at a person...loving them, pleading with them to open up...only to have it
thrown in your face.
I am a horrible human being.
I really am.
And all I think about is how the metal will feel against my temple...and whether or not my
ear drums will pop. After all, a gun shot right next to your ear has got to be loud. But
hopefully death will come too quickly, and there won’t be much pain.
I also have to wonder if your life really flashes before your eyes, in that split second before
you die. And what happens after...I’m hoping nothing...there is nothing. I need there to
be just nothing...no heaven, no hell, just boom....done.
I want there to be nothing....
I’m tired.
I am very tired.
I have a gun picked out...= ) Just not purchased just yet...but I have a license...I’m just
72 hours away...If I go tomorrow...I could be gone by thursday. I think for the first time
in my life...I’ve ALMOST made my decision.
I tried to get help...it didn’t work.
I’m still sad, and now I’m tired of being sad.
I’ve moved from cutting to burning. It’s a lot less messy, the scars heal better...though
they still take forever! And it hurts a lot more. It’s also easier...I don’t have to worry
about sanitizing razors, or cleaning cuts....I just plug in my curling iron. I let it heat up for
at least 20 minutes...so it’s burning hot. Then I tap it against my skin a couple of times.
It’s not bad...at least the first couple of times I did it, it wasn’t bad. But last Wednesday, I
may have tapped it too many times...it was fine that day, and the next...didn’t hurt...just
looked burned...and bubbled...but then my skin just slid off.....it was really gross. The
burn hadn’t healed...it wasn’t like a bad sunburn - where the skin peals off....it was still
healing...and pink and raw - with clear liquid goo...and the skin litteraly it just slid off. It
was the grossest feeling ever. Luckily it wasn’t a big burn...so I have it bandaged with
neosporene on it.
But point blank...I’m not well. I don’t know what else to say. God Forbidd I depress
anyone else...I’m sure I have though...but I’m sorry, it was not my intention. Afterall, I’ve
already done that. Anyways...in the end I’m sure I’ll be fine...I always am...right?
September 26th, 2002
Hmmmmm....where to start. My birthday is in just a few days. I'm not sure how I feel about that. This time last year I was desperatly alone and depressed, and VERY suicidal. Now...one year later...it's much of the same. And that's very sad to me.
I HATE birthdays. No matter how much fun I have, all I can think of is that it's only marking another year in my life. Another year I've been here.
You know...I don't even want to say that. It's what I'm thinking, but I don't really want to say it, because I worry people thnk this page is all about me feeling sorry for myself. But you know what? This is my outlet damnit!!!! I'm not forcing you to be here...you're here because you want to be.
I don't know why I'm angry with you...who I don't even know. I just have so much stuff going on right now...my emotions get kind of muddled.
Last Saturday was my one year anniversary. My boyfriend and I have been broken up for one year. And you know what? It was okay. I was okay. I think my meds have begun to kick in. I've been rather stable in the last week and a half. Unusually stable.
But it's the calm before the storm. I can feel it. Last night I was so very, very anxious, nervous, scared, and panicky. It's how I get before a MASSIVE low knocks me over. It's how I feel when I know it's coming, but I don't want it to...and I think if I ignore it...it won't happen.
But it always does.
And I'm VERY worried about this weekend. Three days alone...my birthday...no one around.
Last year I spent my birthday, on my living room floor, crying, and cutting myself up.
I don't want this year to be the same. And I'm scared.
I'm scared.
But wish me luck...and HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I'm the big 2-3! = )
Hey, I'll try to keep you updated on how I'm doing. Maybe the meds are doing more than I know. I'll try to be okay.
November 3rd, 2002
Do you know what I hate? I hate people who tell you, beg you, not to hurt yourself, be it cutting or suicide, because it would hurt them too much. They say you can't do that to them, they would just die. They tell you how horrible it makes them feel.
November 3rd, 2002
I'm not well. I'm just not well. (ha) I...I'm just bad. I really don't know if I'll make it. I've been saying that for a year now...but this is the worst year of my life. I'm fighting...I'm always fighting...and I feel like I never get any where. I'm scared.
I'll admit it.
I'm scared.
Last Updated: September 26, 2002
Sarah McLachlan
The winter is cold,
and bitter.
It's chilled us to the bone.
I haven't seen the sun for weeks;
too long, too far from home.
and I claw for solid ground.
I'm pulled down by the undertow.
I never thought I could feel so low.
In all the darkness,
I feel like letting go.
and all of the courage,
come and lift me from this place.
I'll say.
Haven't seen this place before.
Where everything we say and do.
Hurts us all the more.
It's just that we stay.
Too long
In the same old sickly skin.
I never thought I could feel so low.
In all the darkness I feel like letting go.
and all of the courage,
come and lift me from this place.
It's better this way.
And now here I am with my eyes shut so tightly it makes my head hurt. But I'm not shutting out the monsters. Mostly I'm hoping, if I shut my eyes tightly enough I won't see the world, and they won't see me either; and maybe if they don't see me, I'll cease to exist.
Oh how I wish I never were.
They always walk away.
I don't care how much they promise upfront...how they swear they are going to teach you
how people don't walk away, but they do.
Do you know why I hate that? Becuause if you really think about it, what they are saying is - it's okay for you to hurt so badly, you are dying inside, just so long as it doesn't hurt me too. It's okay for you to be in so much pain, just so long as you don't cause me any pain. In a way, it's just selfish.
Not that I don't understand it, not that I DO want to cause them pain, but at the same time saying these things only makes my pain 10 times worse.
(laugh) Which is kind of funny, because I think in someways they are trying to make you feel better. If they only knew how bad it was.
But like a said, eventually they always walk away anyways.
No one sticks around.
They alway walk away.
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