Suicide Shaming

I was scrolling through Instagram recently when a picture popped up of a musician who had done a charity event for a friend who had died in a car accident. He didn’t do much performing from what I understand he mostly talked. There were other musicians that performed but his name was more recognizable. I read the comments which I usually don’t like to do but I’m a glutton for punishment.

The musician I’m referring to had made comments about how his friend deserved a tribute unlike the “cowards who took the easy way out” these may not be his exact words because it’s been removed from Instagram in the last few hours.

He’s known for putting his large foot in his mouth and not really caring until it starts to interfere with his ticket sales or Social Media numbers. Then he back peddles.

I’ve always admired his vocal range and song writing. I read several interviews where he said he was sober. They were from reputable sources and he also said it on a TV interview. When another musician overdosed he had said that he didn’t understand because they had just had dinner together and were both sober.

This is a case of people in glass houses. Unless you’re perfect keep your comments to yourself.

I’ve met you, watched you drink from a bottle of Red under your chair, recognized the bluish-purple stain of your teeth, talked to you while you were drunk in the last 2 years. I don’t think you’ve ever truly been sober for any length of time. You belong to that secret club that believes you can drink as long as it’s “controlled”. There are other people in this club I know and it doesn’t work.

You have no right to say who deserves something and who doesn’t. You’re drinking to mask a pain you don’t want to face. These people were trying to face their pain but combined with mental illness it was maybe too much. I don’t know and you don’t know what was going on. I do know the pain, shame, and hopelessness you feel while at your lowest point. You don’t even think of reaching out. Some of us don’t have anyone to reach out to. We fear hospitalization because honestly it’s horrendous.

There’s no simple answer to this subject. It’s complex because every human is different with different brain chemistry, genetics, environment, life experience, you can’t predict or pretend to know what a person is feeling or how they will react.

I see more and more self-help propaganda that frustrates me to no end. We are talking about the brain. It’s so complex that the top scientists in the World admit they just don’t know when it comes to serious mental illness and brain disorders. THEY DON’T KNOW.

But go ahead and take advice from a person with no degree in Medicine, Psychiatry, Neurology or Neuropharmacology because they would know right?1037361horace-poet-it-is-the-false-shame-of-fools-to-try-to-conceal-wounds

WHY I LIKE MY PSYCHIATRIST AGAIN

Yesterday I made a last minute appointment with my psychiatrist. I wanted to get it over with in case I decide to take a road trip. Nothing has changed much. I still have bad days and some kind of ok days. I have been able to see some things a little differently and try to change how I react to them. I’ve done this on my own.

I asked him how long I’ve been on Klonopin. I asked because of recent comments or opinions about people with addiction issues and mental illness taking meds like Klonopin.

I’ve been on it for years at the same dose. 

From an early age severe anxiety kept me from doing many things. I couldn’t tell you the amount of times I was dry heaving in a toilet before school or if I knew I had to deal with a social situation.

I can tell you I had an ulcer by 18 and scarring of my esophagus. The constant feeling of something bad is going to happen, embarrass myself or be ridiculed was excruciating to live with.

One of the many reasons I used alcohol not realizing I was making the anxiety worse.

I didn’t have to go through that for as long as I did. I’ve never ran out of my meds early or Doctor shopped. I never wanted to risk losing the option or access to that medication.

My psychiatrist wanted to know why I was asking. I mentioned Dr. Drew specifically and the response I received made me laugh.

The response? “You do know he’s only an Internist, he isn’t a licensed psychiatrist or psychologist”.

I was so relieved to hear him say this. He also said that he wasn’t happy about Dr. Drew diagnosing people he’s never met.

He said he thought I was doing as well as I could be considering all the obstacles I have. 

He also encouraged me to keep blogging if no one reads because it’s an outlet and I can go back and reflect on what I was feeling at the time.

So I’ll keep him for now.

GO ON AND SAVE YOURSELF

I won’t follow along with an ideal or concept unless I’ve asked questions and received answers that satisfy my curiosity. If this doesn’t happen or I find reason to disagree with the masses I find myself being scolded, judged, or told to “go along to get along”.

Guess what? I’ll be 45 in January ( I know I don’t look it at all! ) and I’ll be damned if at this stage of my life I’ll be bullied or told to be quiet anymore. I’m done being quiet, silent, playing nice, sugar coating events and feelings and being a doormat.

So this is my opinion take it or leave it.

Some group somewhere decided what was “right” and what was “wrong” when it comes to words used describing “Mental Health”.

  • Saying a person is mentally ill is no longer correct.
  • You should say they have a mental health condition.
  • Crazy, insane, bonkers, etc. is unacceptable. (Not sure when it ever was?)
  • Instead people should say they’re diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder/Schizophrenia/Depression
  • They suffer from Bipolar Disorder/Anxiety/Schizophrenia is also wrong to say.
  • The correct phrasing is “they live with a mental health condition/illness. (what about the first one where mentally ill is no longer correct?)
  • They committed suicide is also wrong.
  • They died by suicide is the right way to phrase it. (what about those that try? Do we say they failed to die by suicide or they survived a suicide attempt making them survivors & that has never sat well with me considering I have failed five times myself because I was too drunk.

All of this is ridiculous. The money spent on this research could’ve been put towards better treatment options.

RECOVERY, RECOVERY, RECOVERY, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD THAT DOESN’T EXIST IN MY WORLD I HAVE A BETTER CHANCE OF DAVE NAVARRO FLYING ME OUT TO L.A. FOR DINNER THAN I DO AT RECOVERY. (so for invoking your name Dave)

  1. Recovery implies that mental illness is a choice. Serious mental illness like Bipolar or Schizophrenia are considered lifelong chronic health conditions. Both take a toll on the body and brain, there is no cure.
  2. Recovery suggests a need to return to “normal” state. Which makes me feel more alone and worse about myself. I know I’m not the only one. It also contributes to Stigma.
  3. The concept of recovery by society is detrimental to the person living with the illness/situation. Questions are asked; If people recover, why aren’t you? It must be something you’re doing wrong. Maybe your medications are “preventing” your “recovery” or your choice not to take medications is.
  4. Recovery is an unrealistic standard for any chronic illness whether it’s an autoimmune disease like Celiac (which I have), cancer, Chronic Kidney Disease (got that too), or Bipolar Disorder, Schizophrenia and some Somatoform Disorders. The best you can do is try to manage them. If you experience psychosis or are not capable of rational decisions/choices why are people expecting you to choose recovery?
  5. Behavioral Health isn’t the same as Mental Illness. Behavioral Health focuses on diet, exercise, mindfulness, and sleep habits. This is fine for a person who might feel a little sluggish or down at times but not for anyone diagnosed with a serious mental illness. There is a huge difference. Changing what I eat will not stop me from seeing myself hanging from a forest of trees at the library. Exercising when there are many days my bones feel like they’re broken won’t stop me from sitting on my kitchen floor with butcher knife pressed into my stomach with no knowledge of how I got there. I also couldn’t hear my Dad calling my name or feel him shaking me. I was in another place and it was scary for both of us.

I suffer, I don’t feel like there is recovery for some of us due to many complicated circumstances but there is remission sometimes. I look forward to those small windows of some kind of happiness or as close to it as I can get. I’ll call myself whatever the hell I want to. I’m the one who has had to live this way for 32 years with so many suspecting or misdiagnosing, poking and prodding, degrading and judging, I’ve earned that right. And maybe I am a survivor or I just like to fight sometimes either way this is it I AM A BIPOLAR ALCOHOLIC IN REMISSION 9 1/2 YEARS ATHEIST WITH CONVERSION DISORDER, SOCIAL PHOBIA AND SEVERE ANXIETY. I HAVE TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE 5 TIMES BUT DID SO WHILE EXTREMELY INTOXICATED SO I’VE HAD MY WRISTS STITCHED, DRANK CHARCOAL, STOMACH PUMPED, ANKLE WRAPPED FROM MY ATTEMPT AT FLIGHT, SOME OF THESE MORE THAN ONCE. AS I GOT OLDER AND SOBER I STOPPED TRYING. I STILL THINK ABOUT IT BUT NOW IT’S ONLY A THOUGHT BECAUSE I’M TOO AFRAID OF NOT KNOWING WHERE I’LL GO WHEN I DIE AND THAT’S THE TRUTH.

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO SUPPORTS ME AND DOESN’T JUDGE ME HERE.

It’s once you enter more of the real world that it’s harder.

I TRIED TO OWN WHAT I DID IT DIDN’T GO WELL

I tried to own my actions with my brother in law when I talked to my sister last night. It backfired. My sister started yelling a lot and some of it I blocked out. She did say “Every time we talk it’s about death or health when I just want to have a normal conversation! If you wanted to die that bad you should’ve done a better job all those times you tried! I’m sick of hearing all this bullshit!” I hung up. I was trying to take responsibility and show that I’m aware that what happened was partly my fault when I had been blaming my brother in law for the entire thing.

My brother in law was the smallest in his class and went to a school where he was one of the few white kids. He was made fun of or beaten daily. He was also sexually abused at a young age. As he got older he had problems with how he saw his body and an eating disorder followed. The only time he felt comfortable was when he played guitar and drank with his friends.

Music became his life and so did alcohol. He became best friends with a group before they became famous and they treated him like family. They all drank together. They all had their problems. He started to spiral when it looked like his music career wasn’t going to be what he thought it would be. To him music was everything, it was validation that he wasn’t nothing. I understand that now. I understand so much of it now and all I want to do is cry.

Instead I’m scolded again and another person in 48 hours says something similar to how maybe I should’ve done a better job years ago so I wouldn’t still be here. What do you say to that? How am I supposed to feel? I can’t stop stuttering or shaking. I have to hide my tears so I’m not yelled at. I want to go home. I am home.

Trying To Take A Break

The last two days have left me at a breaking point. I was told the real reason my Mom gave up was me. She died because of me. I was such a disappointment to her and broke her heart so many times she couldn’t watch it anymore. It made sense to me given what her last words to me were. “I’m sorry I f*cked up your life” I thought it was all the medications they had her on so I said “You didn’t! I love you more than anything.”

If I did cause her to give up then I don’t know what to do with this information. My Dad also said he wants to stop dialysis and die because ” I can’t continue to watch and listen to you like this, this isn’t my daughter anymore”.

The eight hour gallbladder attack didn’t help either. I took my medications but they were not in me for long before I started to be sick. My gallbladder attacks involve vomiting, low fever, chills, extreme headache and pain under my right rib. Not pleasant.

It messes with what little help I get from the medications I take. I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t at my best. I wanted to run away where no one could find me. Stop taking pills everyday and worrying about who I’ve offended, who doesn’t like me, who I’ve let down, disappointed, hurt, ruined, and do what I want to do for what’s left of my life.

If the people who supposedly love me think it’s okay to talk to me like they have or just ignore me why am I following their rules? I’m tired of it. I want to actually live for awhile. I don’t want to sit on the couch that isn’t even mine for the few years I have left.

I need a break from mental health. A break from my family and being me. I just have to figure out how. If I don’t do this now I never will.

Many Sides of Me 

Today is a day for forgetting

Forgetting all the people I’ve hurt with my words but most of all my Dad. One person can only take so much and I’m afraid he’s reached his limit and I’ve reached mine.

Telling me that Mom gave up because of me, died because of me, is a weight I already carried. I just needed to hear it said. 

The fight in me is growing tired more and more each day.

I need one real person to help pick me up. Life doesn’t work that way just watch the news.

ALL GOOD THINGS 

There are things in life I enjoy, I’m not always negative. Okay maybe I am. But I love anything to do with animals, finding a new artist I like, old sculptures, some antique jewelry and clocks.

Of course my dad chose to collect mostly the antique clocks I don’t like and has a passion for birds instead of some of my favorite animals but it’s still good. I’ve learned more from him than I ever could have in school.

Tomorrow is my 2 hour test to check my gallbladder and liver function. I’m not looking forward to it. Today I haven’t felt well since I woke up. Part of me thinks the test is a waste of time. You start to get tired of tests. You also get tire of being tired. 

Being alone all the time doesn’t help. Maybe when I finally pick a car I’ll leave the house more.