Monthly Archives: February 2017

I want to die: a self-assessment

Is this a cry for help?

No. I want it to be over now. I’m done.

Why did you reach out?

I don’t know. Guilt? A last gasp of survival instinct? A sliver of hope?

What are you going to do now?

Live through today. Tonight is a different matter.

What do you need in order to keep going?

Things to look forward to. Little things to drag me through the day. A little long term hope.

What can people do to help?

Give me reasons for living. Make plans. Be there. Make me feel less alone. Reach out to me where I’m at, in the place where hopes and dreams have died, and give me real and concrete reasons for living. Not “I care about you”. “Let’s catch up on this date at this time”. Solid things that I can hold on to. The wisps of love and caring are sweet and appreciated but I can’t grasp on to them and pull myself towards them.

What doesn’t help?

Guilt trips. Think of the children, what about all the people you will hurt. That shit won’t fly any more, and I don’t feel the need to listen. Reach out to me on the level I’m on, the level where the world is better off without me, and give me hope there, not guilt that belongs to a higher level of functioning. I will cut you off.

If it all goes to hell, if I don’t make it out alive, there is nothing you could have done. I’m badly broken, and there’s a good chance it’s only a matter of time before I check out. But I’m hanging on right now. I’m trying. I’m giving myself the best chance I can, by reaching out and drawing from inside simultaneously. It could be enough for a while.

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A chat with mental health 

So. Everything will be ok. The Taylor Centre say so. They are impressed with how strong and brave I am, and how well I’m putting structure into my life to cope with the various stressors I am dealing with. Everything will be just fine.

Except when I tell them that’s I’m doing worse than the day they saw me last, which was the day after I split with my boy and the day after I turned 30 largely alone, they just ignore it. They tell me how well I’m doing. Like hell I am. I fall apart every night. I stare at my drugs and wonder what a lethal dose is. I look up timetables for the main trunk line. My thinking spirals ever lower, and in the end I don’t know how I keep going. 

I’m doing everything I can to stay alive. I’m trying really hard this time. I haven’t given up. I’m still fighting. 

The Taylor Centre wouldn’t have a clue though. And they want me to go to WINZ to get funding for counselling. Completely missing that I’m already IN counselling, and that the WINZ process is so fucking bad that I would rather die than fight them again. 

I once said I would die before I went back into the psych unit, or back into community mental health care. And yet, here I am, broke as shit and not having any other option. And it’s killing me. They listen but they do not hear. They tick the boxes but there’s nothing in their service that makes you feel like they care. 

Everything will be just fine. I’m strong and brave and doing all I can. Everything will be ok.


Do not go gentle into that good night

Rage, rage against the dying of the light

Signal phrases – TW suicide

Everyone has phrases that they use that say one thing and mean another. “I’m fine”. “Dinner is delicious”. Whatever they are. 

For me there are two really important signal phrases you should know. They’re the ones that signal danger, depression, suicidal thoughts. Responding to them might save me one day.

“Everything will be ok”. The reason everything will be ok in my head is because soon I will find a way to die. Then everything will be ok for me.

“I feel peaceful/I am at peace”. This means that I have made my peace with death, and I’m actively suicidal and looking at options.

Why am I sharing this? Because as messed up as I am, I know intellectually that death is not the answer and I know I need to stick around, and if people I talk to are aware of my signal phrases they can respond.

Why not just use plain language? God knows I’ve tried, but I can’t do it. I can’t frankly tell someone I’m suicidal right now, maybe ever again. I need people to recognise signal phrases because they’re my last scream for help.

Today

Today I wear my wedding dress, for the first time since my wedding two and a half years ago. It fits me well, although my waist is smaller than it was back then.

Today I wear my wedding dress in honor of my husband, who turned 31 yesterday. I hope to the bottom of my heart that he had a good day. I broke again last night as I caught sight of the dress, peeping out of my closet and taunting me with everything bygone.

Today I wear my wedding dress to feel and acknowledge everything that went wrong, and to formally say that I will honor my past but I will no longer let it hold me. I will not be the person I was that destroyed my marriage any more. I will learn and I will grow and I will make better decisions.

Today I wear my wedding dress and I make a promise to myself. I will heal and grow and not throw myself into another relationship. I will learn to be strong on my own, and not lean on another for my lifestyle or my emotional stability.

Today I wear my wedding dress and I mourn what was, but I look forward to what I can become.

Today I say goodbye to a great love of my life, and I promise to make the next great love of my life myself.