Is suicide an answer?

     Is suicide an answer?  Well, I thought so, many times.  I've been in and out of psych wards for more than half my life thinking that was the answer.  Most of the time, I was committed, held on what they call 'a 15 day paper'.  That means they can keep me in the hospital for at least 15 days,and I couldn't sign myself out.  Looking back I can see why they were doing that to me.
     I was a cutter.  Sometimes I did it as a suicide attempt, but a lot of it was a replacement for emotional pain.  I loved the way it felt, I loved the way it looked.  There were many that should have had stitches, and my scars show that.  But since I started doing the cutting around the age of 15, I hid a lot of cuts from my parents.  I couldn't hide them all, and I would say 'oh the cat scratched me' or 'I got cut up from walking through the woods'.  Obviously, that was not the case and my mom would sometimes take me to the hospital but there was nothing they could do because it had been awhile since it happened.  I usually did my cutting at night so my mom never knew it till the next day.
     O.K., now I'm getting off track.  I thought suicide was an answer because I hated my family, which I know a lot of people would say that.  At 15, major depression started to kick in.  I started drinking and smoking pot.  I didn't care if I was reckless.  Me and some friends would race down back roads, cutting each other of in the turns, or drive through stop lights on the wrong side of the road (my best friend said he would never forget that because I scared the shit out of him).
     Sometimes, I would take a bunch of pills to try to off myself.  I wasn't very good with that one. I knew the amount I was taking wouldn't have killed me, but I had other people thinking differently.  At 16, I started stealing pills out of my dad's medicine cabinet.  I had no clue what they were, or what they did, I just knew he wasn't taking them anymore so they were fair game.  I would try them in different combinations, but usually it would just make me dizzy or make my ears ring really loud.  Most of the time I would take them just before I left for school.
     Looking back on all this, I realize it was all stupid shit.  The only thing it would do is hurt those around me, people who love me and people I love.  Now that my Dad passed away and my only other sibling lives 4 states away, I realized just how devastating suicide would be on my family, especially on my Mom.  She would be up here on her own, mourning the death of my father and me.  I have seen first hand what my mom is going through losing my Dad.  I couldn't do that to her.
     I just really hope I can keep my mental illness in check.  I don't want to go down the suicide road again, but having mental illness, for me anyway, is like Russian roulette.  I never know when something is going to happen.  I can't control all my actions if my mental health issues worsens.
     Point is, suicide is not an answer.  It devastates people around you.  I had an old childhood friend who hung himself in his parents basement after his wife told him she wanted a divorce.  To this day I can still see in my head the purple mark around his neck that the funeral home could not cover.  I think about him all the time.
     I hope that by people reading this, they will know they are not alone.  People do think that their life sucks and that they'd be better off dead.  That is completely wrong.  Think about your friends, your family.  Think of what they would go through if you were to take your own life.  Get into counseling if need be. Talk to psychiatrists and see if maybe some medication might help with your mental illness.  Just don't kill yourself, your worth more than that.










   

Know That Your Not Alone

     As you may or may not have noticed, these posts have no order.  I am doing it that way because I am doing this as things come into my head.  I'm not trying to confuse people but I do have labels so it will be easier to find the topics.  This is going to be a really short post I think... not even sure why I am putting it on here.  I just hope some people will come to my blog and feel some sort of connection, knowing they are not alone.  I have been in psych wards over 25 times, countless times in day programs that are groups all day from 8am-1pm.  I can understand what people are going though seeing as I have been there many times myself.  Well that is it for now.  Oh, I hope people had a good Thanksgiving Day.

The Day That Changed My Life

     Hey again.. I was watching the X Factor tonight and Let It Be by the Beatles was sung.  It made me think of the day leading up to my first psych ward stay.  My parents used to fight a lot and they were very loud.  I would go in my room, put on my headphones and play Let It Be over and over while I cried.  I was falling into a deep depression.

     One night a week, my friends and I would go to the school gym and play basketball.  To play at the school we needed a chaperone, and it was my Aunt and she didn't really pay attention to us.  My friends that night were all wired from some No-Doze pills and it really pissed me off that we weren't really playing cuz they were busy goofing around.  I left in my car in the middle of our time there.  I was speeding down back roads not giving a damn about anything.  I was about to run my car into a tree and at the last minute I pulled back on the road.  I wrote a note to one of my best friends about that night.  I had no idea the effect it would have on me.

     My friend gave my note to the school psychologist, who I had been seeing off and on through-out the year.  It was my second class of the day, which it was actually a study hall, that I was called into the psychologists office.  I'm not clear on everything that was said, but I knew I was in big trouble.  After talking to her for about 30 minutes, she sent me to class and told me that if it was too much for me to sit in class then go back to her office.  It was a couple classes later that I got pulled into the guidance counsler's office, where eventually my mom showed up.  They told her to take me to the hospital and tell them I was there for crisis.

     They took my clothes except underwear and socks and gave me a gown and put my clothes in a bag and took them out of the room.  To this day I still remember the room number... 7.  I hate that room to this day.  It was hours till I saw someone from the crisis team.  She talked to me for about 30 to 45 minutes.  Then she talked to my mom.  Needless to say, I ended up in the psych ward that night.  My mom came up with me until they got me settled.  I had cigarettes on me that my mom didn't know I smoked but she said it was O.K.  for me to do while I was there if I wanted.  I cried that whole night.  I will write more later.


   

Time Flies By

     Well, it's almost 10pm on Tuesday and I am still awake.  I've been awake since 11am on Monday.  This is because of my bi-polar.  I was diagnosed with bi-polar when I was 18 and in the psych ward for the second time.  Funny thing about my stay in the psych ward this time.  I have almost no recollection of what happened in there.  I was seeing things in the light above my bed.  I attacked a nurse (and apparently it wasn't my first time).  I was being put in 4 point restraints and I would always be able to get at least one of my hands out of it,. 
     One day, a man I didn't know came in the room and told me I could no longer stay there.  He asked me if I wanted to go to the state hospital or a private psych ward.  I've heard that state hospitals treated patients like shit so i chose the private one.  Turns out he was a lawyer.  I don't know if he was hired by the hospital or by my parents but he was there.
     When the ambulance arrived to transport me, I heard one of the nurses say they would probably have to put me in a body bag.  I thought they were going to kill me, chop me up and put me in the body bag.  The ambulance crew said I would be OK.  Found out later that a body bag is something that you get wrapped up in so you can't move.  Another form of restraint.  I remember being put on a 1:1 meaning I needed to be watched by someone who could be no more than an arms length away from me. Days and nights blurred together for a few days until I finally broke through my black cloud and was able to be active again.
     I will talk more another time, but for now I have said enough.  I am making this blog to recount moments in my life that I was mentally sick.  For good or for bad, it will eventually come out in this blog I'm sure.  Til next time, see ya.

The meaning of the turtle yin yang

     As the description of my blog says, I have mental illness.  The picture where my blog name is, is turtles in a yin yang.  I have always loved the meaning of yin Yang's, the give and take kinda thing.  The turtles on the other hand have a very strong meaning to me.
     I have been in counseling since I was 16.  That's how old I was when I first entered a psych ward.  I actually spent Christmas that year in the psych ward.  Anyway, I went into counseling after the psych ward.  I was put in counseling as a adolescent  so my councilor was only supposed to meet with me until I was 18.  Somehow she managed to get 1 more year with me.
      At my last counseling session, she gave me a card and a little toy turtle.  The meaning of the turtle still fits me today.  She said I reminded her of a turtle, "sometimes I go forward, sometimes I go back and sometimes I hide in my shell, but I eventually get where I am going."
     So if anyone found this interesting or familiar, keep reading my blog.  If not, oh well, that's your choice.  More to come.