Suicide- I still can't believe she did it

I know that I'm not coping with my sister-in-laws suicide right.  I just can't shut off my brain.  I can't seem to find any peace right now.  I know that she's only been dead for 4 days and no one expects me to just be over it.  We were so close for so many years.  She had a long history of mental illness and we always bonded over the fact that we could relate to each other.  My last suicide attempt, she was there for me.  I wasn't there for her when she needed me.  I've been drinking every day since she died.  I can't relax without it.  I go to bed at night and cry myself to sleep.  What's really starting to piss me off is all the fucking people asking the details of her suicide!  They are really asking how she did it.  What the fuck is wrong with people?  Also, my phone won't stop fucking ringing.  People are calling to express their condolences to my husband, nice right?  Well these people haven't had anything to do with my family in over 10 years and now they're calling all sad and crying- looking for us to comfort them!  Asking why she did this to them!?  My husband has buried his dad, mom and now sister all within the last 4 years.  We just need a fucking break from the world.

suicide

I just found out that my sister-in-law killed herself.  My husband and I are in shock.  Turns out she killed herself on Friday but no one found her till yesterday morning.  She left notes all over the place but we can't see them because the detectives have them.  My brother-in-law said that she took over 100 oxycontin.  I don't know what to do.  There's nothing I can do.  It's too late.  Why didn't we see it coming?  I wish I had been a better sister-in-law but none of that fucking matters anymore. 

I am so tired of the roller coaster.  I have a day like yesterday where I am full of self hatred and now I have today where I just don't care.  Going from such hate to nothing is exhausting.  You wouldn't think it would be, I mean- I'm not actually doing anything.   In trying not to cut I've spent the day resorting to the rubber band thing.  I snap my wrist when I want to cut.  I'm not sure I'm doing it right because the inside of my wrist has horrible welts on it and I actually drew blood.  But the point is to not cut, right!?  So I guess I've been successful today.  That's something...

I'm still desperate to get wasted.  I've always preferred drugs over alcohol.  Legal or illegal is irrelevant.  When I was younger I smoked weed (a lot), I tried acid and shrooms (not for me- I'm already crazy without the help), and I did coke (powder)for a while.  I've always done pills and alcohol.  I even smoked crack for a while.  I'm one of those people who will do anything.  If it's offered to me I'll try it.  Thank god no one ever offered me heroin because I know that I would have loved it.  I know because my favorite pills are opiates.  I have actually had dreams about shooting heroin and I loved it.  I would wake from those dreams craving it.  I would pray that when I went back to sleep, my dream would continue.  Tell me I'm not fucked up.  I don't know what's going to end up happening.  I've gone to doctors "med seeking" in the past but I hate doing that.  You know what I prefer to do?  I hurt myself so that I legitimately need the drugs.  The thing is- I have an enormous threshold for pain.  Fuck............I really don't know what to do with myself right now.  If my husband knew how I was feeling he'd start calling around to find an inpatient unit that has a free bed.  I need to get my shit together.

not this again

I am so tired right now.  Tired physically and tired mentally.  I'm tired of having to take pills everyday just so I can go out into the world and pretend that life is great because no one wants to hear when life isn't great.  I'm tired of the fact that I want to hurt myself constantly.  I'm wanting to drink more and I'm thinking about how I can get drugs to make me numb.  I have to be careful right now because times like these land me in the hospital 90% of the time.  My husband is noticing which means that I'm not doing so good pretending.  A month from now I'm going on vacation for 12 days, maybe that's why I'm weakening.  I have a temporary end in sight.

Does anyone else have much experience with different medications?  I've been on approximately 20 different meds over the last 10-15 years.  Right now I'm on Lamictal, Seroquel, and Wellbutrin.  I'm always on 3-5 different meds at any time.  I'm wondering if there's something out there that I haven't tried.  There must be.

I know I'm feeling bad for myself and it's pretty pitiful.  I just get resentful sometimes and I know that I need to find a way to deal with the things that eat at me.  But sometimes I can't deal.  I'm angry that I have to take pills everyday just to pretend that I'm normal.  Even with all these drugs in me my mind still screams "suicide" constantly.  I hate the men that raped me and sexually abused me!  I hate the fact that they are living their lives.  I hate that they killed me inside and have probably forgotten that I even exist.  I meant nothing to them yet they still haunt me today.  I can't forget that they exist and I wish I could!  God I fucking hate myself some days.

#36

something to think about

I had a good talk with my Mom yesterday.  We talk every Thursday at 5 pm.  We have to schedule it the same day and time every week or else we won't talk.  She would like to talk to me 3-4 times a week but I can't handle that.  Once a week is too much for me to handle some weeks.  Mom and I have worked very hard at developing the relationship we have now and it's means a lot to me, the relationship we now have.  She's worried about me because I've stopped seeing my therapist.  I told her that I was not going because I was tired of going over the same shit over and over again.  I have had so many therapists, psychiatrist, psychologists and social workers over the years.  I've told the same stories over and over again.  I open myself up to these people, pour out my heart and feelings, expose all pain and bullshit and you know what happens?  Nothing!  I leave after an hour of sharing and I feel like total shit.  I want to cry, then I want to cut, then I want to drink so I don't cut, then I get home to my husband and he asks "how'd it go?" and I tell him it was fine.  I tell him it was fine because I don't want him to worry.  I pretend that everything is good.  The problem is I can only pretend for so long and then I fall apart.

So-  I told my mom that I was done going.  She pointed out that this is a pattern for me.  She's right.  I do good for a year or two.  I stay on my medication and check in with the psychiatrist every three months.  I work and go through life telling everyone that I'm fine. (do you know what 'fine' stands for? F-(fucked up) I-(insecure) N-(neurotic) E-(emotional))  I believe it most of the time, but without fail I start to fall apart.  I continue to go through life showing and telling everyone how good I'm doing when in reality- I am on the edge of complete meltdown.  Finally I end up getting some drugs (I'll go to a doctor and complain of some pain and get a prescription for Percocet) or I'll start drinking.  Then it only takes about a week.  At some point within that week I will completely lose my shit.  I'll end up in a room crying, high, drunk and suicidal.  At that point my husband will find an inpatient psychiatric unit and I will be admitted for an average of 2 weeks.  While I'm locked up my meds will be evaluated, I'll be stabilized and some do good counselor/social worker will set me up with therapy and then send me on my way.  Then I return to the real world, put my wall back up and go back to pretending that everything is FINE.  Repeat every 2-3 years.

Mom's worried because I'm getting older, mid thirties (creeping up on 40).  I don't want to keep doing this.  I don't think I'll end up in the hospital again but I say that every time.  I never thought I'd end up in a psychiatric hospital against my will EVER.  So- Mom wants me to think about continuing therapy.  She points out that I should be dealing with the tough stuff while I'm doing well, while I'm strong enough to handle it.  She's right.  Am I going to listen to her?  Probably not.  But I promised her that I would think about what she had to say and I have.  I'm 'talking' it out with you and I still feel the same way.  The key for me is- not only have I stopped seeing my therapist but I've also lost my psychiatrist.  If I don't go to therapy then I can't see the doctor that prescribes my meds.  I've cut myself back, dosage wise, of a couple of my meds to buy myself some time.  I think I have about 2 months of meds left.  If I run out of my meds I will end up back in the hospital.

I don't want to go back into the hospital.  This last stay took a major toll on me.  I was so obsessed with suicide for months after I was released.  I literally spent hours thinking of nothing but suicide.  I would cry for hours talking to my husband about how I was feeling because some days I started to make plans to follow through just so that I would stop thinking!  There is nothing worse that having your own brain be your most dangerous enemy.  Having every ounce of your body telling you to kill yourself.  I almost had to check myself back into the hospital because I was scared of myself.  So, I must not run out of my meds!

nightmares

I am tired
I am depressed
I don't sleep
I don't talk
When I do sleep I have nightmares.
When I do talk- I rage or cry.
I eat way too much
I cut way too much

I want it all to stop.

Do you?

Do you know how it feels to want to die?
Do you know how it feels to always have a tear in your eye?

Why?

Because I don't want to try.

So much of my writting takes place in or around a hospitalization

Why do you bother to ask if I'm "okay"?
No one really wants to know the truth.
I can see it in your eyes
You feel obligated to ask.
So I tell you what you want to hear.
"Yes, I am okay".
Then you carry on the charade
"Are you really okay?"
So I tell you-

"No, I'm not."



Now what?!

Another psych hospital inspiration

I am a 35 year old broken child.
My childhood is a dark and empty missing part of my life.
I feel this tearing in the middle of my being.
I am having nightmares.
I am having flashbacks.
I can feel the horror scratching at the surface of my brain.

This follows my last post...

Following my last post, the shit that landed me in the hospital... I wrote this while I was locked up.


Another 15 days of life in a bubble
I crashed again- hard
I saw it coming but couldn't stop it
Two weeks ago I found what I needed
Percocet, Ativan, Valium, Vicodin
That was on Thursday
By Sunday I had eaten or snorted all 4 bottles
Over 70 pills
The amount of alcohol- I've no idea
Those few days I don't remember, as my husband started making the calls
The trip to the hospital I can't recall
The admission?
The strip search to inventory the wounds?
Having said wounds "dressed"?
I don't remember
I remember watching the door shut, locking me away from my love
When he got home he found some art- painted in my own blood
Oh- how much I hurt him
An ugly list of self hatred
As the doors are unlocked- I am "stable" again
Free to be with my love
I am broken this time
I have to start at the beginning- again.

But I am really broken this time.

These are the days of my life...

This was also written some time ago (a year and a half ago) when I was in a bad place.  I'm taking these writings from my account on deviantArt.  I want everything in one place, if possible.

Also- to note.  I ended up in the hospital for 2 weeks the day after I wrote this.  My husband says that after I wrote this I went up to my room (a spare room where all my books are) and just started hacking up my arms.  When  he came to check on me, I was crying and bleeding all over the place.  I don't remember it.  Besides all the drugs and alcohol in my system at the time, I tend to disassociate at times like these. 


Lately I've been reliving things that I keep trying to forget.  It's causing me pain, these things are starting to haunt me again.  Living with these memories / nightmares for over 30 years is enough.  I sometimes think that I've "recovered" from my PTSD but I think I've just stuffed my memories where I don't have to think about  them daily.  I want to cry but I've wasted so many years feeling bad for myself.  I'm disappointed with myself.  I'm starting to beat up on myself.  This only leads to one place. 

First- I start to numb myself.  Right now I'm taking Valium, Klonopin, Percocet, Seroquel, Prozac and alcohol to wash it all down.  I know, not a good combination.  No- I am not taking them as prescribed.

Second-  I get frustrated that the drugs aren't working so I start hurting myself.  I'll try everything I can before I get to cutting because cutting is what I really want to do.  I can convince myself that if I'm only scratching or punching, then things aren't really that bad. 

Third- My husband will start stressing because he is watching all of this and he know's that I usually end up in the hospital.  But it's been a couple years since my last hospital stay so I'll probably go see my shrink first.  That usually means a med change, again.


I'm still trying to stuff everything but I keep having flashbacks.  I see the punches, rapes, screaming, crying, hiding, hurting.  It's starting to consume me again and I don't know what to do different this time.

History

I wrote this a while ago, before this blog.  It's stuff that I've written here , on this blog, already.  But I like to see how my memories come to me at different times.  I have so many years that are missing from my life.  Unfortunately most of my memories are bad ones, all trauma related.  That makes me sad because I know that I had some happy times as a child, for some reason most of those memories are lost.



I tell myself that I have forgiven but deep inside I know that I have not. 

I remember being forced to sit in the chair at the kitchen table.  I think I had been caught in a lie again.  My mom and sister were begging my dad to stop.  He was too angry.  He slapped me across the face and I fell off the chair.  I think I was in middle school at this point, maybe 5th grade- so that would make me how old? 10 or 11?  It doesn't matter.  He picked me up and put me back on the chair.  I wasn't crying yet and that always made them more angry.  So he hit me again and again and again.  Every time I fell he would pick me up and put me back.  By the time I was crying the damage was done.  I remember having to go to school the next day.  I actually had a hand print shaped bruise on my face and both of my eyes were full of blood from the head trauma.

By the time this incident happened I had stopped feeling or careing.  I laughed it off when people asked what happened.  I told them I got in a fight with my sister.  They chose to believe my lies.

I remember fearing gym class because it meant getting undressed in front of people.  I blamed the welts across my back on my sister.  The bruises on my sister, the scars on my sister.

I remember the holes in the walls.  I remember the cops taking us away.  I remember that my dad never touched my sister.  The few times he went after my mom I did everything I could to get in the way.  Mom got me and my sister a few times.  Slaps, hair pulling, being thrown agains the walls.  For some reason she never scared me.  I even laughed at her more than once when she tried to hurt me.

I was a smart kid.  I was "lucky" and I never had to study.  I loved sports and art, reading was my only escape.  I was pretty good at everything I tried.  Again- I was lucky.

I ran to the first man that would treat me like shit.  I was 15 and drunk.  He raped me and then passed me to his friends.  That's when the drugs became a daily thing.  I had to be numb.  For some reason every guy I found for the next 10 years abused me sexually- tell me I wasn't searching for the type.

I look back and see the signs-
       I never slept through the night, I still don't without pills.
       I wet my bed until I was way past the appropriate age.  I actually went through a phase where I never   made it to the bathroom on time, mom made me wear a diaper in elementary school.
      I was a hypochondriac.  I went to the school nurse every single day looking for someone to care about me and be nice to me.  The nurses were always good to me.
      By middle school I discovered food as a way to feel better.  But I got too fat, too quick and mom wouldn't let me eat actual food.  I was put on a liquid diet at 11 or 12.  Imagine a powder packet of slim fast for lunch in middle school.
      I don't know how old I was when I started hurting myself.  It seems pain is all I ever knew.  Cutting has stayed with me for the past 23 years but I tried it all.  Burning worked, kinda.  Hitting things was my first fix.  I loved it.  I broke my own bones because I hit things so hard and repetitivley.

Why didn't anyone else pick up on it?  I wish I knew.  Drinking worked for a while.  Illegal drugs worked the best but we all know where that ends up.  I stick to the legal drugs now (mostly). 

I found myself hating eveything and everyone in my world.  Hating myself the most.  The best thing that could have happened to me was ending up in some really good, well known psych hospitals.  One had a trauma unit for women and it changed my life.  I met other women like me.  I met other women who cut like me, drank like me, drugged like me and most importantly felt like me. 

Knowing that I am not alone in the world has saved my life.  That and having a husband who knows absolutely everything about me, and still loves me- is why I am alive today.

hopelessness

My senses are dulling
I am so empty
I fight this time
I should know how by now
Hopelessness
Restlessness
The light is dimming
I won't give up

days

How many days will it take?
I am remembering things better left alone.
In this darkness I see my demise.
I slowly come undone.

I wrote this one day when I was about to loose my shit

I am going to loose my shit.
I am obsessing and I know that everything would be okay if I just did it.
I need to hurt myself.
I am going to explode and no one around me deserves it.
Just once and everything will be okay.
I've tried punching myself.
I've been trying the elastic thing all day.
I cried.
Nothing is helping.
Healthy sucks.
I think I'll take some klonopin and drink.

I'll let you know how it works.

Acceptance

I try not to think of how it began but some days it's all I can think about.  I look at my family and see such normalcy.  I see a sister who is a healthy stay at home mom, she runs marathons for fun.  I am jealous of her.  I do not regret that I protected her.  At least one of us had a chance.  How is it possible to love the people who hurt and betrayed you the most?  I know I had no choice.  I was a child who found a way to survive.  I learned to associate love with pain.  It's amazing what an adult can overlook.  My teachers saw me come to school so damaged.  No one ever helped.  I started hurting myself by the age of 12 (give or take a year).  Punching (breaking my own bones), cutting (my favorite), burning, scratching.

I lost my virginity to a gang rape.  Of course I partially blame myself for that, too.  I shouldn't have been drinking, right?  I put myself in the situation.  It never would have happened if I hadn't played my part in putting myself at risk.

My first "adult" relationship was fueled by drugs and abuse.  I found what I knew.  The drugs made it tolerable.

I never sought help until my twenties.  I didn't think I was doing anything wrong. 

I'm drug free, for now.  I'm married to a wonderful man.  I have a relationship with my family.  I've spent many, many months in psych hospitals.  I attempted suicide 3 times.  I've been on over 20 different medications.  Now I take 4 a day.  I've been diagnosed with so many different "illnesses".  Bipolar, Major Depression, PTSD, Anxiety Disorder and Borderline Personality Disorder  (the one that has stuck over the years).   I still hurt myself (when needed).  But I am alive, today.  I am in love.  I take my pills every day (or else I end up in the hospital). 

I have learned acceptance.  This doesn't bring happiness or any other fairy tale ending but it does help me get through the day.

Insomnia

Sleepless nights
turn into
restless days.
My mind is on
overload,
unable to control
the thoughts.
I sit, looking for
distractions
but unable
to move.
The same solution
every time
but not an
acceptable option.
So everyone says
but to scream
silently and
allow the pain
to slowly seep out
is acceptable to me

Insanity

A day of calm
and peace.
I am a tourist
in my own reality.
A day in hell
then a day
in heaven.
From this realization
I understand
my insanity.
I love my parental
source but it is
toxic to my
stability.
Unwilling to
understand,
accept me as I am,
relinquish control
and love without
conditions.
Am I asking
too much?

Shadows

When the shadows start creeping
I know my control will begin to weaken.
The familiar flutter of my heart
my breaths coming further apart.
That itch just under the surface of my skin
tells me I will bleed soon again.
I begin to desire a numb escape
even if these substances led to my rape.
The feeling that my talking will burden my love
only fastens the mask on more snug.
I despise the reminder that my meds aren't enough
that no matter what I do this will always be rough.
Acceptance is what I have been seeking
my nightmares remind me why my strength is fleeting.
I am who I am and today that's okay
I will battle and fight for my life one more day.

Author Unknown- I love this but I don't know who wrote it.

There's never a day when I feel free...
Never peaceful, never how I want to be...
What you see, when you see me smile...
It's hiding everything I really feel.
There's pain inside, all of the time.
Can you see me...do you know that I'm here?
Pain.
Fear.
Anger & Hurt.
Nothing has to happen for me to change...
Nothing has to change for me to feel so many different ways.
Time won't heal me, sometimes I wonder why I even try...
As whenever I do, the fall takes away the healing...
And again I'm bakc to where I was before.
All those times,
All those pictures that hold bright, engraved memories...
There's that smile upon my face...
It seems to be everything...
So why don't I see the best things?
Only I see right through to who I truly know.
If only the best times never ended,
Although I never want them to be here at all
Sometimes I think the world of you,
Other times I don't want to know you at all.
Although there are some people and sometimes when...
I would fall apart without you  there with me.
Please don't forget about me...
My deepest fears are that you'll leave me.
That you won't remember me...
That I'd take the fall and maybe one day...
I wouldn't stand again.
Don't let go...
I love you
I hate you
But I need you
Can you see me...do you know that I'm here?
Sometimes you know I'm around,
Although I really don't know how to be...
What to say...
regret and fear
worry and no truth.
What you see, it's all lies...
Only I know the pain that I feel everyday
Those days that I am with you...
All that time I'm hiding away.
Sometimes, even if I seem to be okay...
You should know that sometimes...
I am so near giving up,
I fall and my weakness shows...
Everday this is what I face...
Pain.
Fear.
Anger and Hurt.
All the strenght I thougt I had... leaves me again.
Can you see me...do you know that I'm here?
The mask is flawless, a strong person stands there...
but I'm falling apart.
I have no reason, then I have no strength
Only the two colors that I see
Sometimes it's all okay but I'm always reminded...
Never able to forget...
Don't let go...
I love you
I hate you
But I need you.
Can you see me?
Please don't forget me
It feels like the weight of the world...
On my small shoulders...
So much to say,
It's easier to stay silent
The times I run away...
I forget about all the people that are there...
The people that have promised me they will be there...
That they will never leave me...
I still fear that you will leave me...
That you won't be around...
That you will let go of that tight grip on my hand.
I'm scared.
All the times I say that I am so sorry...
Think what it could mean...
Take care of what you ask of me...
Because I know that,
The end of life...
has no pain at all.
So I have to let go...
why does the pain have to stay with me?
Please don't let me go...
It's up to you to keep hold of me...
Remember that I am here.

blaahhhhh....

Okay- I've been drinking for the last 3 hours and I'm still not drunk.  Do you ever want to get drunk just to feel better?  Just for a few hours?  I've had about 10 beers and nothing!  What does it take?! 

things that make me smile

cutest bunni ever

puppy burrito

my Bella

Damien and Bella

So true..

I wish I had one of these..

I can't wait for my nephews wedding!! <3

sick thoughts

Am I alone in obsessing about hurting myself?  When I'm at work my mind constantly revolves around killing myself.  I have a rude customer and I want to end it.  A customer touches me, just in handing me money, and I cringe with disgust.  I look around at all the people shopping and all I can think are horrible thoughts.  I wish they were all dead.  I wish there was an apocalypse and most of the world died.  This is not healthy.  I'm only happy at home.  If I never had to leave my home I would be in heaven.  Once I start thinking about hurting myself, whether it's cutting or suicide I end up obsessing for days or sometimes weeks.  I know the name for it- suicidal ideation but that doesn't tell me why I do it.  It drives me crazy.  I truly wish I could move somewhere rural and I could work from home and then I could decide when I have to deal with people, on my terms.  Someday, hopefully.