I focus on the pain, the only thing that’s real

How can you tell I’m hurting if you can’t see any pain?
To wear it on my body shows what words cannot explain


This time three years ago was one of my darkest periods ever. I was deep in depression. For the first time, I had a concrete suicide plan. I was determined to carry it out, but a small voice inside me was pleading with myself to hang in there. I sent the following email to my therapist. And then proceeded to not answer my phone, not check my voicemail, you get the picture.


April 13, 2009. 5:44 pm.


“Why am I emailing and not waiting to say anything until tomorrow? The fear of chickening out. The fear of not saying what needs to be said and that would not be very productive. At all. I don’t want to not say anything and then wind up kicking myself in the butt because that would just be a really bad idea. With the state of mind I’m in and the way I am thinking lately… it is just not good. Not good at all.


Just last Tuesday I was the “happiest” I’ve been in weeks. I use the word “happy” lightly as I wasn’t really happy, per se, but more toward content. Things certainly weren’t the worst but were by no means the best. And then Wednesday comes and I sink back to rock bottom. Thursday comes when I look through the rest of stuff, and I once again go below rock bottom. I’m not doing well at all, and it scares me.


I’m keeping away from people the best I can. Thursday afternoon my anger got the better of me and I was launching stuffed animals across the room. Thankfully, none hit anything and broke, but the fact that my anger got to that state was just a bit scary. I’m secluding myself from people the best that I can. I’m locking myself in my room, not really talking to people, and being very avoidant. I came out of my shell some on Easter (as I was at my sunday school coordinators. Staying in my room by myself all day would have been a Very Bad Idea) but come Sunday night I was back to where I was just the day before.


I know that I’m once again lower then I’ve been before. Lower than Windsor, lower than Harding. This time I don’t know if I can pull myself out. This time I don’t know if there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. This time I don’t know if I’ll make it through. I’m past just merely having thoughts about suicide, it’s to the starting-to-make plans stage. It’s to the it’s-starting-to-take-over-my-dreams stage. It’s to the its-taking-over-me stage. It’s to the point where I’m not seeing any way out, and it scares me. It’s to the point where I do not trust myself at all anymore, where I’m almost scared of myself and that I’ll act impulsively. It’s to the point where I’m trying to figure out a way to get to the store in order to get something I can cut with. It’s to the point where I’m just shutting down, and it’s not a good thing.


I’m seriously considering skipping chapel tomorrow because I just don’t want to be around people. It never fails that someone comes up behind me without warning and lays a hand on my shoulder, which winds up scaring the crap out of me. Everyone I know will be asking how Easter was and if I went home. I don’t want the looks of pity when I say I didn’t go home. I don’t want the looks of sympathy when I say I stayed here this weekend. I just don’t want it. I don’t. I don’t. I don’t. Things are just not going well and I’m not using healthy coping mechanisms at all. I just… everything is taking far too much effort. Eating. Homework. Socializing. Everything is too much right now and I’m very overwhelmed. I can’t lift myself out of this funk right now, and I don’t even know if I want to. Everytime things start to look up and start to look better, I wind up lower than I have before. Why keep fighting if this is what I’m fighting for?


Bah. I’m going to hit send on this before I wind up backing out and not saying what really needs to be said. I’m going to throw myself into tidying my room now so that I’m distracting myself and not mauling on things. Good idea, maybe, maybe not. I just need to do something so I’m not just dwelling in thoughts that I really don’t like…”


The next day I was admitted to the Crisis Home. And I truly believe that email saved my live. I truly believe had I not listened to that voice inside me that was pleading for help, that said “DON’T DO IT” saved me, the inner voice that told me to keep fighting. What worried Joe so much was the fact that was sent mid afternoon, the fact that there was no sarcasm. Student life was waiting for me when I showed up to my appointment and I was told I was not permitted to return to my dorm that night. That they were worried about me. 

These days, even though it’s still dark, I am glad I listened to that still, small voice that begged myself to get help, that begged myself to hang in there. Life is worth living, and it is worth hanging in there for. Suicide is a very final solution to what is often a very temporary problem and rocks countless worlds and numerous lives. 

And so, with that, I close this. I’ll write more later this week, such as how I got one of the quotes on my Facebook wall, how I did there, and various other things. =) 

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