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I Missed Suicide Prevention Week

I missed the national suicide prevention week, which ended on September 15, but this whole month is suicide prevention month I think. I feel like I needed to say something on this topic given that I have lost a few friends to suicide, and given my own history of suicide attempts. I am grateful for all of the efforts of support for suicide prevention and awareness from the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention walks and events and all other local efforts in between. To be honest, though, I don’t have any kind of big statement to make on the subject. I don’t think I will ever be finished dealing with being in a place where being dead felt like a better option than being alive. I still don’t feel like I’m ever going to feel safe from finding myself back in that place again.

I believe it is important to raise awareness of how sadly frequent suicide and near-suicide is among people who can outwardly appear normal and functional. People often cannot let on that they are struggling so deeply because they’ve been trained not to. We get rewarded for pushing through, denying our feelings, pushing our own self care to the back burner. So it’s important to spread an understanding that people can appear happy but also be struggling.

Then some of us don’t appear happy when we’re struggling. We cry a lot, sleep a lot, eat a lot, withdraw from things that make us happy, stop talking to the people who love us, and find ourselves trapped in a prison where the black depression is all we can see and feel. We believe it’s the only thing we will feel if we stay alive, so our only productive option is…

I’m about a third of the way into TMS treatment and I am in the “gets worse” part of the “it gets worse before it gets better” warning. I am in a severe depression downswing, and I’m afraid to believe that these treatments will make me feel better in case they don’t. So far it feels like I’ve gotten worse, and even though I was fully warned that this may happen, it doesn’t help me feel any better. It feels like I’ve found myself here close to the bottom again after I’ve tried meds, exercise, vitamins, more meds, therapy, diet changes, self care including the ubiquitous mani pedis and bubble baths that everyone seems so quick to prescribe, and now TMS treatment. So why am I still trying things?

I am not suicidal, I am just in a bad place mentally and emotionally. Still, this is why we need more awareness of how serious mental illness can be so that one day people can feel safe getting help before we reach rock bottom. I’m not at rock bottom, but I think if I wasn’t getting the psychiatric professional help that I have now I’d be a lot closer.

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The Greys and Army Greens

Why does reading about someone who has bipolar give me a start? Why does hearing about someone who committed suicide make me feel just a little bit jealous? It doesn’t mean I’m a bad person and it doesn’t mean I’m crazy, that’s just the nature of triggers I guess. I’m reading a book that mentions someone’s family member who had bipolar (by the way I’m careful to say “has” bipolar as opposed to the more commonly used “is” bipolar because our conditions do not define us) and refused to take medications because they didn’t want to be “dulled.”

The person ultimately killed themselves, and it sounds like they had a lot of struggles in life. I can relate very much to not wanting to be dulled. Taking the relatively large number of medications, in addition to making me fat, turn my brain into fog. My feelings are dull and I don’t get as much enjoyment out of things I normally enjoy, but when I feel sad I feel it too strongly. The thought of getting off my medications just so I can feel something again is very appealing. But the consequence of doing that is that I will probably end up either hurting everyone I love, putting myself on the streets, or dead. At least I would feel life again, though!

I’m not going to go off my meds, but it will never stop sounding appealing. I think of the days when I wasn’t on medications or wasn’t taking my meds like I was supposed to, and though I had huge mood swings on a daily basis, I felt love like fire, I felt joy doing the things I loved, even the lows that I felt so strongly made me feel alive. I was connected to life. Sure, I wasn’t sleeping or eating much, and I would have days at a time where I would cry in bed barely getting up to pee much less function like a human. But that’s part of what made me feel alive.

Now I’m taking all the handfuls of meds like I’m supposed to, but I feel a muted sense of being alive. There are many things that make me happy: my boyfriend, my dog, my friends whom I cherish. The love for those things runs deep. But everything feels muted. I still have the mood swings, but they’re not as extreme. The “even keel,” the “baseline” doctors want me to stay on feels Okay. I am Okay. Life doesn’t have the reds and blues and purples and lively yellows anymore, just greys and army greens. My memory is shot, focus is a challenge, I often feel like my personality has gone into hiding, my hands shake, my energy is in short supply and I’m often too tired to function, but I am Okay.

Not fantastic let’s-get-up-and-go-I-don’t-care-where. Not terrible, hopeless, I’d be better off dead. Just okay. I am so lucky to have people who care about me and are always there to help me through the days, even the days when the high/low extremes come back and I’m not Okay anymore. In the meantime I’m living in the fog and reminiscing about the times when I felt like I was living in brighter colors.

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Journals From Past Allison

Journaling has been an important survival tool for me ever since the year 2000 when my therapist at the time turned me onto it. I have saved all my journals since that year, and sometimes I like to go through them all and find the same date in different years and read them. I do this more out of curiosity than anything else, but it can also help me track my progress, or lack thereof, through the years. The evolution of mental illness is fascinating, as is my level of denial in the early years. But simply because I kept writing, I kept following hope.

All of my journals either have titles or quotes at the beginning of them, like they were books. And they kind of were because I would fill every page of every journal I ever wrote in. I’m not sure where those bragging rights would be relevant, but that’s kind of impressive, right?

Here are some of the quotes in the beginning of my journals over the years:

For a second, two seconds, they had exchanged an equivocal glance, and that was the end of the story. But even that was a memorable event in the locked loneliness in which one had to live.
-George Orwell, 1984

Forget about what you are escaping from…Reserve your anxiety for what you are escaping to.
-Bernard Kornblum,The Adventures of Cavalier and Clay

Pretty Pink Suicide Notes
– journal title, Allison B. Hollingsworth

I feel a little down today
I ain’t got much to say
You’re gonna miss me when I’m not there
And you know I don’t care

Life is hit or miss, and this
I Hope, I Think, I Know
And if I ever hear the names you call
If I stumble, catch me when I fall
‘Cause baby after all,
You’ll never forget my name
You’ll never forget my name.
-Oasis

There are two ways to look at life…The first view is that nothing is stays the same and that nothing is inherently connected, and that the only driving force in anyone’s life is entropy. The second is that everything pretty much stays the same (more or less) and that everything is completely connected, even if we don’t realize it.
-Chuck Klosterman, Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs

For Posterity
– journal title, Allison B. Hollingsworth

I’ve compiled a list of excerpts below that Past Allison wrote in a gesture of recognizing her journey. I hate the word journey, but I love Past Allison. At least I’m learning to.

Continue reading Journals From Past Allison

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TW – Depression Can’t Be Fixed

*TW means Trigger Warning, meaning what I’m about to say has the potential to trigger someone’s past trauma, past painful experience, or something they are struggling with. If someone is “triggered,” they can feel that pain all over again and put them in a challenging emotional or mental position. I will not censor my experiences because I can’t account for all possible triggers. However, I respect the things that people have had to go through, and I can indicate that I am about to talk about suicide; you can choose whether to keep reading or not. Please take care of yourself first.

If you need help now, call or online chat with the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline now.

We need to talk about suicide because it has taken too many people from us. I have lost friends to it, and it’s hard to miss the celebrities who died from suicide: Robin Williams, Chester Bennington, Amy Buell, Kate Spade, Anthony Bourdain. Ugh, just making this list gives me a heavy heart. But as difficult as it is to think about, I think the prevalence of mental illness in our lives is all the reason I need to talk about it. It seems like we don’t talk about suicide until it happens to someone we know. This is more than enough for us to take it seriously!

It is important to remember that depression can’t be fixed. Mental illness can’t be fixed. I love my friends deeply, and when one of them is hurting it makes me sad. It makes me want to do something, anything, to fix it. To take my friend’s pain away. Unfortunately depression doesn’t work like that. We have to consciously love the person over the disease.

My friend called me last night and said they wanted to end it all. I’ve been in that place before myself, but it didn’t make it any easier to know how much pain my friend was feeling. They told me how much I had meant to them over the years, and that they love me. This is a friend I “met” in an online support group more than 15 years ago, so we’ve never met in person. My friend told me, “I always wish we had met in person,” and the wording stabbed at my heart. Through many many tears I said,”We still can. I love you. Please don’t kill yourself tonight.”

…And that’s all I could do.

I wanted to drive to their house, knock the bottle of booze from their hand, and just hug them until they felt better, and I might have if they didn’t live a two day drive from me. (I love dramatically knocking things out of people’s hands, too.) Personally, I have attempted suicide three times in my life, which I will get into more later, but having been there myself does not make it easier to see others go through it. However, it does give me some perspective on what can help in these moments, and what my role is as a friend. The biggest two things that help me are honesty and humor. Don’t try to protect my feelings, and don’t let me take myself too seriously.

I resisted the urge to list all the things my friend had to live for because that would be assuming I know what they find meaningful. It’s easy to project our own experiences onto people in these situations, and I wanted very much not to do that. Instead, I was honest about my feelings and my selfishness.

I said, “I know this is selfish, but I don’t want to lose you. Not today. I mean one day, yeah when you’re being a real pain in the ass we’ll talk again, but not today.” They laughed, which made me feel relieved at that moment of time I bought for them. Humor can save a life. That’s what I tell myself when I’m unable to stop making “that’s what she said” jokes, when that fad ended like four years ago, but it’s true. Depression lies to us and tricks us into taking ourselves too seriously. It robs us of perspective and keeps us locked in a dark metaphorical room, isolated from people who love us. Eventually it can make us believe that we don’t matter.

I got to talk to my friend from their dark room last night. I am scared. I’m scared that they won’t answer my text this morning. I’m disappointed that I didn’t fix them – even when I know that’s not how it works. I’m heartbroken that I even have to entertain the thought that I might lose my friend. But I told them and showed them that I love them, and that is what I could do. I hope it helped, but I don’t know if it did. I may never know, but I did try.

I perhaps have a unique perspective, and am not suggesting this as a template for anyone else’s situation. If someone is talking about wanting to kill themselves and you are uncomfortable, which, let’s be honest, you should be, you do not have to deal with it alone. Call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (I put this number in my phone and have used it) and they will help you help the person you love. Then make sure to take care of yourself, getting help dealing with the feelings that come with being in this difficult situation. Depression lies and we tend to believe the lies before we can fight it. We can’t fix it, but we can fight it.

I don’t know if my friend will answer my call today or not. I sure hope they do. My stomach is knotted with the thought that they might not. But I’m glad they reached out to me last night, I’m glad I got to say I love you, and I had the personal boundaries and wisdom to know that I didn’t have to fix them. We can’t fix something that isn’t fixable, all we can do is love it, call it a pain in the ass, and laugh at it, making the time we have on this earth a little more bearable.

Continue reading TW – Depression Can’t Be Fixed