Tag Archives: Suicide

LITTLE DEATHS AND SUICIDE SHAMING

The remarks made by an actor on Twitter recently about a friend’s suicide made me more than angry.

He thought his friend was “selfish” for taking his own life. After all that is what his spirit guide told him. I think he’s mistaken about what a spirit guide actually is. A guide doesn’t tell you what to think or do, they guide you along your journey.

If he was such good friends with this person why didn’t he see the signs of his friends struggle? I didn’t know the man but I noticed he was different. Maybe because I’ve been there.

Like in poker, we all have tells. Staring off while the people around us laugh and talk. Not really paying attention or adding to the conversation. Nervous habits like bouncing your leg up and down, tapping your fingers, constantly looking around a room. The smile that never reaches your eyes. Sleeping more or less than usual. Drinking more or using drugs more.

The man was an addict. I’m not sure why he thought it was okay to drink as long he wasn’t doing heroin. It doesn’t really work that way. You’re still self-medicating.

As far as reaching out to a friend or loved one goes when you have a serious mental illness that you are self-medicating with drugs or alcohol it’s almost impossible to do.

Each time I attempted suicide I was drunk. All I could think of was the pain, the guilt, the hopelessness. Every bad thing said to me played on a loop in my brain. “You’re a waste of space, no one likes you, no one will ever love a fat c*nt like you, you should just kill yourself, we can’t believe you anymore because you’re a drunk, etc”. There was no room in my head for the idea to reach out to someone. I didn’t even know I was Bipolar and had been for quite some time. I automatically thought I was worthless. I had thought this since I was 8 or 9.

The human mind can only take so much abuse. I could take a lot of physical abuse and I did. But it was the constant psychological damage and trauma that I couldn’t handle. I doubt most people could. My own family could only handle knowing a small fraction of what I went through and what I thought. They refused to hear anymore from my doctors. I still have to find a way to live with it all.

After 5 suicide attempts before the age of 27 something inside me stopped trying and just drank more. I finally stopped drinking 10 years ago and was correctly diagnosed as Bipolar with Social Phobia, Anxiety, PTSD and Conversion Disorder. Knowing about the mental illness helped me stay sober. Getting to the cause of my drinking went a long way.

I would like to say that I don’t think about suicide but I still do. It’s in a different way now. It’s more like I just want to run away or disappear. It’s harder without family or friends. It’s even worse when you have a chronic physical illness that is life threatening.

My twin sister has stopped speaking to me. It hurts. But she can be extremely toxic. Everything is black and white in her world. She didn’t call our dad to wish him a Happy Birthday on the 5th because she said “He never called me on my Birthday in January”.

First he’s 75 and your FATHER. Second, you never answer your phone and I know he tried to call and it went directly to voicemail which she never checks either.

Long story short I lost my temper for the first time in a long time. I even dropped the F bomb in front of my Dad. That’s how mad I was.

I’ve been left to take care of him and his other 2 children could care less. My Dad is stubborn and cranky. He’s now taking vicodin like candy because he herniated several discs in his back and refuses to stop lifting heavy objects.

I need a little vacation.0d806ffdc1b7a4766b4b545aeb74354b

Advertisements

WHAT MAKES YOU AN EXPERT ON MENTAL HEALTH AND ADDICTION? *Sensitive Subject Matter

I am my father’s daughter. Like my father, when I find a subject I relate to or a hobby I enjoy, I learn everything I can about it. I don’t mean this in a normal way. My father never made it past the 8th grade but taught himself everything one needed to know about most animals specifically birds.

He taught himself how to breed Exotic Birds on The Endangered Species List and obtained a Federal Permit to do so. He was 1 of 11 people in the United States to successfully breed one species. He knew about diseases, diet, flight patterns, temperatures, everything.

I was born into a family filled with addicts and people with mental illness. I spent a lot time around all of them. Both my parents come from big families but mom’s side was a very close bunch and also very dysfunctional. My mom was the oldest and did her best to help her brothers and sisters no matter what. My sister and I always went with her even if that meant visits to the State Mental Hospital or a Group Home.

My sister and I always talked about one of us becoming “crazy” like it would be the worst thing in the world. It kind of was. I already knew it was me, my parents already knew it was me. The only one who didn’t see it was my twin sister. It would take her 20 years to admit I was sick.

I know all the ins and outs of being hospitalized against your will. I know what happens when you swallow a bottle of prescription sleeping pills after drinking a case of beer and a pint of Fire Water. If someone gets you to the Hospital early enough you get charcoal, which I did the first time. If you get there a little later they pump your stomach, which they did the 2nd time. If you fight them they also restrain you.

I know if you cut your wrists a certain way you can do permanent nerve damage. Which I did on one occasion so my pinkie is numb most of the time.

I know after so many visits to the ER for attempted suicides they can keep you and they did. No one came to talk to me or give me any tests, I sat and watched TV with all the other people who were either detoxing or had mental health issues.

I know after about 4 or 5 visits to the ER for attempted suicide a judge can court order you to undergo therapy and see a psychiatrist. I was court ordered several times but no one ever diagnosed me or asked many questions they just handed me a bucket of pills. This is common for State run facilities.

Every single time I tried to take my life I was drunk. I never tried sober. I thought about it sober but never acted on it.

People say “Why didn’t you ask for help?” I say “Because I was drunk, confused, couldn’t get out of my own head, all I could think was what a waste of space I am, how no one loved me, how could anyone love me?” When did I have time to stop and think “Gee I should probably call my sister who is sick of hearing me cry all the time”.

It doesn’t work that way. When you’re in the middle of a tornado you can’t think rationally and that’s the point.

I don’t know why people expect this.

We need to reach people before they get to the tornado.

It’s the only way this will work. If you know someone with a mental illness call them, invite them for coffee, tell them you love them, give them purpose, stop them before the snowball starts going downhill picking up those negative thoughts growing larger and larger.

I want to know I matter. I want to know I’m still loved even though I’ve f*cked up so many times. I want someone to hug me and tell me it’s ok even if it isn’t.

This is why I am more qualified to speak about mental health and addiction than any Doctor or Talk Show Host because I live it and I’m still here.quotes-about-strength-robin-williams-depression-quote-all-it-takes-is-a-beautiful-fake-smile-to-hide


I REALIZED I HAD ENOUGH IT WAS TIME

I had to leave the house today. It scared me and I didn’t want to. As I was driving on the highway I suddenly felt sad. Sad like I’ve never known. No one took my calls. I then felt like drinking. I have not felt the need to drink in years. After that came the question “What if I just let go of the wheel?” Then a tiny voice said “What the fuck are you doing?”.

I turned the car around and went to an Emergency Psychiatric Facility I had read about last year. I forced myself out of my car and into the building. I stood outside their door watching for about 10 minutes. My legs were shaking and my hands felt numb.

I eventually went in and stood in a corner shaking. A kind woman behind the glass came out and asked me if I needed help. I told her I did. I was stuttering badly and crying. One of the Social Workers told her he would fit me in as soon as possible. I heard him say “She has Conversion Disorder which is making it difficult for her to give information”. He spent 2 hours talking to me, getting all of my background information, my family history, everything about me that might be important.

Usually you have to wait a few months before seeing one of their Psychiatrists for an assessment but they had been monitoring me since I walked in and the Director of Psychiatry took an interest and made room to see me next Friday for 2 hours. They take Medicare. The Director is a woman which the male Social Worker thought I might have an easier time talking to because of some of the things I’ve been through and because I’ve never had a female psychiatrist.

We decided not to let my current psychiatrist know anything until I’ve decided if I’m going to keep going to them. I already liked the fact that the Social Worker was surprised my doctor put me on a new medication that was potentially dangerous and then didn’t want to see me for 6 months. It made me feel better, like I wasn’t the only one who thought he was dropping the ball.

This was a big step for me. Usually I would’ve needed my sister or my dad with me but I’m learning that isn’t always possible or fair.On-My-Own-Quotes-006


RISK AND SIGNS OF SUICIDE

This subject isn’t a pleasant one to write about but it’s an important one. There have been too many talented, beautiful people in pain lost this year. There have also been many that we never hear about or were almost lost to us. When I hear of a person younger than me who dies by suicide that I know, it breaks something inside me.

The recent event of the son of the lead singer in my brother in law’s band angers me. I offered to help several times and each time I was brushed off like I have no idea what I’m talking about. Now I think if I had tried harder I could’ve prevented what happened. I know this isn’t true but self loathing and punishment is my thing.

INFORMATON

Women attempt suicide more often than men but men succeed in suicide more than women.

The most common method used by women is pills.

25% of suicides are by people over 65 years of age.

25% of suicides are alcohol related.

80% of people had seen a physician in the past 6 months.

50% of people had seen a physician in the last month.

RISK FACTORS

Previous attempts increases the risk of suicide greatly.

Family history of suicide or abuse.

History of psychiatric disorders.

History of alcohol/substance abuse.

Feelings of hopelessness or helplessness.

Impulsive or aggressive tendencies.

Isolation

Social losses, financial losses, death of a loved one.

People discharged from Mental Health facilities are 34 more times likely to commit suicide.

60% of the depressed population have suicidal ideations.

15% of alcoholic patients are more likely to commit suicide.

This is just a list of facts when dealing with real people it’s much more difficult. But there is truth here.

There is a history of suicide in my family. There is a history of severe mental illness and alcoholism.

I had seen physicians within 6 months of at least 2 of my suicide attempts. I was drunk during all of them and felt like I had a gaping hole in my chest that could never be filled. A lonely ache that never went away. It’s still here but I deal with it. When manic I was impulsive or aggressive and I chose pills and razors. One time a roof that turned out to not really be a roof.

It kind of blows my mind that I slipped through the cracks for so long. That I waited so long for a diagnosis or to receive any kind of help that was right. I honestly should be dead but for some reason I’m still here. Between the suicide attempts and the emergency Kidney Failure where I flat lined I figure I’m here for a reason. What that is I don’t know yet.

#6767

 


SUICIDE~ WHAT YOU MIGHT NOT WANT TO SAY

No one has to tell me the damage I’ve done with my drinking, erratic behavior, attempts at suicide, abusive environments, and everything else I’ve done. I think about all of it almost daily. At times I use these memories as self punishment to remind myself why I don’t deserve to be happy. I know this isn’t true but I have days where it’s difficult to differentiate between the two.

I never wanted to tell anyone I thought about suicide because I was terrified of being institutionalized. I had seen several places while visiting relatives and they were scary. I didn’t want to be taken from my parents. Even though there is a strong hereditary link in my family my parents did the best they could at the time and I know they loved me. There are days where I do doubt this. They happen a lot more recently.

No one knows what to say someone who has attempted suicide so usually it never gets discussed.

It needs to be talked about specifically in the family. My family never discussed any of my attempts. I would be picked up at the Hospital when I was allowed to leave or if I had to stay in a Psych ward usually it was my Dad who came to visit me until I was released. It’s weird that I just remembered that. My Mom and sister never came. Only my Dad.

After it was like nothing ever happened. How can you have a child who overdoses 4 times and cuts their wrists enough to need stitches and cause nerve damage twice and not talk about it? But that’s how it was.

My sister told me the other day that my actions “scarred her for life”. I wasn’t sure whether I should be angry or sad. She was never around during the worse of it or if she was she never showed up.

When she commented that she had more sympathy for her friend’s son who shot himself in the head because he must have been in “real pain” unlike other people who attempt suicide and fail, I felt a tingling heat and dizziness. I couldn’t help but think she was talking about me.

Never compare someone’s pain to another’s. I replay conversations and comments in my head over and over until I’m cried out and exhausted.

I’m not unaware of the damage I’ve done it’s the opposite. I’m hyper aware which makes everything harder to deal with. c02707c766261aeb5fc516d564ea5b15


I TOLD THE TRUTH TODAY. I DIED. (World Suicide Prevention Day)

I have had symptoms of Bipolar Disorder since the age of 10 but wasn’t diagnosed until I was close to 35 years old. That is a lot of suffering. If you are Bipolar or have Major Depression you understand what I mean. The constant empty ache in your chest like something horrible has happened but you don’t know what. Feelings of being worthless, like you never should’ve been born or guilt. Being bullied throughout school did nothing to help. Alcohol did.

The first time I hurt myself I don’t remember much of it. I know it was my 17th Birthday and I was at my own party at J’s house. Someone must have said or done something because that’s usually how it happened then. My extreme low self-esteem got me every single time.

I do remember my best friend W. screaming at J. and people wrapping my wrists as we went to the Hospital and I got stitches.

Another time I cut so deep on the left side but refused to go to the Hospital that I caused nerve damage going to me left pinkie and ring finger. They both still go numb and the scar isn’t pretty because I never went for stitches. I have a total of 4 scars.

I have also had the pleasure of having my stomach pumped and having charcoal forced down my throat on several different occasions.

Because of all this I was constantly court ordered to see Psychiatrists and Therapists who didn’t help.

I also jumped off the roof of a building but luckily I was so drunk that I didn’t realize how close to the ground it actually was. I chipped a bone in my ankle and had some scrapes and bruises.

I stopped doing this in my thirties for some reason. The feeling was still there but I didn’t act on it.

When I went into Kidney Failure and didn’t realize what was going on or that it was as serious as it was the Doctor had asked if I wanted a DNR and he also said I needed to get my family there immediately. That’s when it hit me that things were bad. By this time I had been diagnosed Bipolar with Conversion Disorder. I couldn’t reach my Dad because he was at Dialysis! My sister wasn’t answering her phone as usual. I was angry so I signed the DNR. I thought that my family didn’t care about me so it didn’t matter anyway.

I found out recently that the Doctor knew I wasn’t stable enough to make that decision so when they lost all my vital signs he ignored the DNR, I flatlined. Lifesaving measures were taken. It wasn’t too bad they only lost me for less than a minute and I’m glad he ignored the DNR because I have something I didn’t have when I was younger.

I have a sliver of hope that I might be happy one day. I’m finally kind of okay with the outside of myself after 44 years now I have to try to forgive the inside. I have to stop punishing myself for everything I’ve said and done in my life that may or may not have caused people to not like me. If that means I’m alone than I have to learn to be comfortable with that. Alone isn’t that bad. I can go where I want and be with the animals I love so much. I could even live with a pack of wolves. (Okay that might be a bit much but I would if I could)

What I’m trying to say is that when it came down to it, when death was right there, I was scared as Hell and so happy to wake up and see my sister’s face.


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


Black Hole Sun~Until You’ve Been There

I was reprimanded today for crying over someone I did not know personally. The problem is in a way I did know him. I knew when I heard the news at 7:30 a.m. this morning what had most likely happened.

My sister sent me a text saying she had been crying all morning and we went back and forth a little. She has not talked to me in what for us is a long time. The communication stopped immediately when details were released later today. I knew she would discontinue communication when she learned what I already knew.

The life expectancy of someone with a severe mental illness like Bipolar Disorder is much shorter than the average person. If the person also has an alcohol/drug addiction you can take off a few more years even if they are now sober. I’ve done all the research there is do. I have a thing for statistics and research.

I cry over someone who writes lyrics that explain how I feel or have felt but could never put into words. Some lyricists write like they’ve been in my head or knew me at a specific time. It’s a tell like in poker.

Until you have stood on a roof looking down into a black abyss of pavement thinking “I can’t take this pain, this empty ache in my chest any longer” and you jump, I don’t want to hear your opinion. (I was closer to the ground than I thought and extremely drunk. I chipped a bone in my ankle and some cuts and bruises.)

Until you have had charcoal forced down your throat or your stomach pumped because you swallowed a bottle of painkillers while thinking “I never belonged here. I watch other people live but I don’t understand how. I don’t fit. I wasn’t meant to be.” I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you’ve been stitched up for you fourth time because you have no self respect and think you deserve to be treated like garbage I don’t want to hear your opinion.

Until you blow a .36 at the Police Station where you’ve been many times and the men in the room are wondering how you are still functioning and you hear the names they call you and are so humiliated it has gotten this bad you picture doing the unthinkable I don’t want to hear your opinion.

I hope I’ve made it clear that unless you have been in a person’s situation it isn’t gossip or fodder for the media it’s someone’s son, daughter, sister, brother, husband, wife. Remember that and the suffering that goes with it.

To the person who is no longer here. You had empathy, talent, a light inside of you that you probably couldn’t always see, and you made a difference to me. You will be missed.


SUICIDE, FREEDOM OF SPEECH, AND HOW MUCH CAN WE HOLD ANOTHER PERSON RESPONSIBLE?

There’s a story in the local news right now that has been bothering me for a long time. It has to do with a young girl that had a mostly online/texting “romantic” relationship with a young boy. She knew he had tried to kill himself previously and that he was feeling suicidal again.

Instead of suggesting that he talk to his parents or a professional, she encouraged him to kill himself and even gave him suggestions. When he was in his truck inhaling carbon monoxide, she was on the phone with him. At one point he changed his mind and got out of the truck. She talked him into getting back in. They found his body the next morning.

Her defense attorney first tried say her texts were not admissible in court because they were protected by Freedom of Speech. I almost threw up when I heard that. When I read the transcripts of all of their interaction I was sickened at how manipulative she was. She reminded me of someone I knew.

MY STORY

I attended Middle School and High School with a girl who somehow was able to get people to do anything she wanted. She never got in trouble because her mother worked for the State as a Psychiatrist in the Juvenile Court System. Her mother knew many people. Her mother also turned a blind eye to what her daughter did.

The first time I had a problem with her was because of my sister. For some reason she saw my sister as a threat to her popularity. This was in Middle School. She told the biggest, baddest, scariest girl at the High School that my sister was talking about her. My sister didn’t even know who she was. I’ve said it before, talk all you want about me but don’t you dare do anything to hurt my family. So we were receiving phone calls from this older girl threatening to beat my sister up. I stepped in and told the girl to name the place and the time, but she wouldn’t be dealing with my sister she would be dealing with me.

I was known to be quiet but I was a lot bigger than the other girls and some people had seen me react to anyone who threatened my sister or best friend. The older girl asked around and the matter was dropped. It wasn’t for me because I knew who started it.

In High School my sister became friends with the trouble maker. She disguised herself well. Until she had falling out with a girl on the cheer leading team. After a party one night the cheerleader went back to her car to find a pig’s head left sitting on the roof. Another night my sister and some of her friends said something the little sociopath didn’t like so she took a rope, tampons, and maxi pads and connected all of the door handles together so they couldn’t get into the car. Then she hung tampons all over the car and stuck maxi pads everywhere.

She didn’t like her roommate in college so she dunked her toothbrush in urine, put urine in her mouth wash, shampoo, and put urine in a spray bottle and sprayed her sheets with it.

None of this compares to what she did to my ex sister in law’s brother. He dated her for a few years. I told him to get out of the relationship. She did things on purpose to make him jealous then tell him he wasn’t really a man. He had some depression problems and drank. Towards the end of their relationship he called her and said he was going to kill himself. Her response was “I don’t believe you. You’re a pussy. Why don’t you come down here and do it in front me? Or are you too chicken?”

He took a razor and a shotgun and went to her dorm room. She let him in. She said “I still don’t think you have the guts to do it.” He slit his wrists in front of her. During this time someone called campus security. She stood there laughing. When he heard that security was coming he took the shotgun and ran into the woods. They found him with the barrel in his mouth put he was almost passed out from blood loss.

Personally I wanted to beat the living crap out of her. But people like her don’t change. He stayed away from her but the damage was done. We’re in our forties and he has never had a successful relationship. I find that sad. He’s kind, extremely handsome, generous, loyal to his family, and loved my mom like his own.

Sometimes I think someone needs to be held accountable for their actions in situations like these. If you are aware that a person is unstable and encourage them to hurt themselves and they do some of that is on you. If you manipulate a person with your so called “love” then there should be consequences.

All of this really hits a sore spot with me. It angers me and makes me incredibly sad at the same time.

 


The First Amendment, Social Media, And Cyberbullying (part II)*sensitive material*

This post may contain triggers and adult subject matter.

ME

I can’t remember the first time I hurt myself or the last. I do remember the overwhelming need to feel pain anywhere else than on the inside. The inside I could do nothing about.

There was no “Cyberbullying” when I was in school. I know I sound old but I have had the lucky fortune to experience it as an adult. I have to say that even as an adult I didn’t handle it well. I’m not sure anyone would. Who really wants to hear or read negative things about themselves? In my case I think them about myself most of the time with short windows of manic activity so I suffer enough. For some people (I use that term loosely) it isn’t enough. They can’t tolerate anyone different form them or anyone whose afflictions or differences they can’t comprehend.

If anyone thought when I was younger that I didn’t own a scale or a mirror they were bigger idiots than I thought. BUT as a kind woman once told me at the jewelry factory I worked at when I was 12, “You can still lose weight. They’ll still be ugly.” She meant inside. And even if she didn’t that’s what I took from it. I forgot it at times and was ugly on the inside and always regretted sinking to that level. Most of the time the person doing the bullying is craving attention mostly because they never received it themselves when needed most. It still does not excuse the behavior or make the statistics go down any smoother.

STUDIES AND STATISTICS

The University of Alberta’s Researcher Michele Hamm and her colleagues sifted through recent studies on Cyberbullying and Social Media. Thirty six of the studies specifically researched the link between Health and Cyberbullying in children ages 12-18.

ONE THING FOR CERTAIN, EXPOSURE TO CYBERBULLYING INCREASES THE CHANCES OF DEPRESSION. THE MORE CYBERBULLYING A PERSON SUFFERS THE MORE SEVERE HIS/HER DEPRESSION WILL BECOME.

  • Bullied students tend to grow up more socially anxious, have less self-esteem, and require more mental health services throughout life.
  • Over 160,000 miss school everyday due to bullying.
  • 38% of online girls report being bullied compared to 26% of boys.
  • Girls 15-17 are bullied more than any other age group.

RESPONSIBILITY?

Where does the responsibility lie? Parents? Social Media? The School System?

All of the above.

We know that in the time we live in most parents work. There’s nothing wrong with that, if you still manage to make the time needed to talk to your children. If you are just going to work, coming home and putting them to bed, it isn’t enough. Before anyone says it I will. I do not have children, I have nieces and nephews. What I am qualified in is years of torment and suffering at the hands of all kinds of bullies.

Monitor Your Children’s Social Media for Warning Signs

Sites like Tumblr and Instagram have a difficult time controlling the content on their sites. They have tried up to a point. The biggest problem they are up against are self harm, suicide, and pro anorexia sites or content.

The only thing Tumblr and Instagram are able to do is have a message pop up with information on where you can go to learn more or get support for anorexia, self harm, or suicidal thoughts.

But these people are not stupid. They carefully hide their agenda with hashtags and what they think are clever names. I’m only going to give ONE EXAMPLE. I DO NOT WANT TO GIVE ANY OF THESE GROUPS MORE ATTENTION THAN THEY ALREADY RECEIVE.

Instagram has a site/group #sue with 800,000 tagged posts. It serves as a “how to”, “fantasy”, “successful tips”, you name it. There are darker sites for anorexia that have not been monitored.

Everyone has choices in life. Some of the people visiting these sites are not fully formed people yet. Scientists now know that our brains do not reach full maturity until our early 20’s. Except for me because I started drinking heavily at 16/17 and that delays maturity. If a depressed, anxious, teenager with low self esteem visits one of these sites chances are it won’t end well. Their brains are not fully formed, they think what they are going through will never end, that they will forever be the fat/nerdy kid who was picked on. They do not see an alternative to their situation. They don’t know that 10 to 15 years from now most of the same people that picked on them are going to be fat, bald, divorced, have too many kids that they resent, look like they’re happy but are secretly miserable, and were probably miserable back then too. That’s what Reunions are for.

There is another side I feel I have to talk about. If someone has taken their own life, it was their choice. No one has a right to pass judgement on them or their families. Walk a mile. More than half of you wouldn’t make it.

If you need help it is out there. There are people of all ages that have gone through something similar.th4wjg08ss

 

 

 


%d bloggers like this: