what depression looks like
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I wanted to start writing a blog last year after I started feeling a lot better with regards to my depression. I didn't do so, but I did write an opening post that I saved in my documents. I just came across it today and find myself compelled to put it somewhere. So skip this if you don't want to read a livejournal post ;).
I wrote this after I stopped being suicidal, but when I was still close enough to describe the feeling fairly accurately. On Being Suicidal - pt 1 This feeling is intoxicating. This is my last breath. My last deed. How can I make it clean, not messy? How can I make it where my family won't find me? Do they know that I don't make this decision lightly? Do they know I would not do this unless there was absolutely no choice? My grandmother, love I can't take from her... killing myself would kill her... it would ruin her... still, I can't take this. How can I make it look like an accident... My medications, which are fatal in high doses? Should I mix them? My psychiatrist, he'd understand why I'm doing this. He is a professional. He is not my problem. Go outside. Smoke a cigarette. See myself jump over the banister and onto the street floors below. Splat. I laugh outloud. Oh, it sounds good. And every time I walk out here, I see it. Medication time. Chomp chomp. Fuck it, I'll take it later. Literally too lazy to even take my medication. Haven't changed my clothes in two weeks. Showers... uh... showers exist. Don't ask me about showers, fuck you. Phone's been off for three days. Mom comes over. Does my laundry. God, I'm a lazy piece of shit. She sprays febreeze all over the apartment. I'm disgusting. She tells me she's begun emotionally preparing for my death. Because she knows. I don't talk to her about it. But she sees me dying. She sees me losing my fight. I don't even self harm anymore. No, it doesn't work anymore. It is not a respite from the nothingness. It's become part of the nothingness. And so there is nothing left but the nothingness... except. My grandmother. The best person I know. She is old, she has cancer. She is slowly dying. We live together. Yet we barely talk. Not because we don't get along - not because there is anything wrong - but because I am wrong. I am past my expiration. But I cannot. I Cannot. Do. This. To. Her. She sees it all. In the hospital. Out of the hospital. I dance with my fate. She gently pushes away death as I walk towards it. She is not afraid of her own death; I am not afraid of my own death. But we are terrified of each others' deaths. As my grandmother lay in hospice, before she was drugged too much, I talked to her. I told her I'd be okay. That I was starting to feel better (which was true). I told her I was sorry. She didn't tell me not to be sorry. She just told me to live. That she went through what I went through. Not leaving the house, not showering, not doing anything, seeing her world get smaller and smaller. I asked her how she got out of it. She had no answer for me, just said that with time she started feeling better. I told her I'd be okay and she believed me. My grandmother died on 3/31/2011, peacefully, with her family around her. And today I am living. It is August 2013, and I am starting to become alive again. I'm sorry grandma. I'm still sorry. But I am living. I am okay. And I will be okay. And I'm not suicidal anymore. This blog is dedicated to you. It will be about the awakenings one has as a person when they start to re-enter the world after a long period of suicidal depression. |
feel free to put it on if you have it
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Erica, did you know this about your grandma prior to her being sick... or did she share that with you in that moment? Sounds like she was able to reach you somehow, and give you the strength you were needing.
I related a bit to this because I was closer to my gma, more than my mom. As far as I'm concerned, my gma was more of a mom. When she died, I had a really tough time letting her go. It took a couple of years for me to really come to terms with it. |
I did know she had been depressed, but not because she told me. My mom told me that when we moved to Florida (I was <1 year old) and they brought my grandmother down here a few months later, her apartment was a nightmare to clean and she was doing stuff like giving hundreds of dollars away to people she didn't even know because she felt bad for them and they were taking advantage of her. And she was definitely not wealthy.
I used to be sort of close to my mom, or at least I thought I was. We do not really talk now, we see each other like 2-4 times a year and we live 20 minutes apart. She does not want to be more involved. She is the same with my sister. Of course, I blame myself. There was a thing that happened with the police a few years ago and I feel that that scared her into not being involved emotionally with me. This is something I talk about a lot in therapy. Plus all the stuff that happened to me as a kid, I don't know if she thinks she failed and can't be a good mother or what, but I'd be willing to put it behind me w/r/t our current relationship if she would be. But I don't think it will ever happen. Mom doesn't want to be my mom, boohoo etc |
I still have dreams about my grandmother dying, and it's been more than three years.
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i have become fascinated with two princes, like i know it's supposed to be shitty but how could something that catchy actually not contain some talent
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It is a pretty catchy song.
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this sounds just like the words of someone who's not really gonna kill themselves. Which I guess is obvious since you're still here.
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yeah thats true. but i did write this after i stopped being suicidal, so it was me trying to remember. i never did a really foolproof method of suicide, but it was looking inevitable for a long time. like 4-5 years. shit was terrible in any case.
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leave it to exploding boy to be condescending about suicide
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Leave it to trostkilicious to pretend to remember the kind of shit I used to say 14 years years ago and that it's exactly the kind of stuff I would have said. Personally I remember that exploding boy guy to have been a wuss who tried to desperately remain (creepily) nice. Except when people were being total dicks I guess. If I could go back i'd kick my own ass.
Anyway people who talk in length about suicide usually don't commit suicide. That's certainly what my brother did when he tried it. There's far too much reveling in their state of despair up there to take it much seriously (omg I haven't washed n so long, don't askme about showers). But ultimately you know if someone wants to kill themselves, it's their own business. I shouldn't be expected to give a shit unless I was a friend. Like no one should either if I offed myself. But thanks for telling us how depression looks like. I sure didn't have a clue since I have never suffered. |
Well at least banana is still gone for a while I guess
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exploding boy, you realize i never talked about it really, i'm just relating what went on in my head? it's not like i told people i was suicidal all the time. when i say "dont ask me about showers" im really saying "im not going to think about it" because you know, i'm talking to myself.
i tried very hard to not die. i dont blame anyone for committing suicide. im frankly lucky that im not depressed any more. but regardless whether someone is "seriously" going to kill themselves, the suffering is terrible, and really my intentions on writing the blog (that i never wrote) were to offer some kind of... not hope, because hope doesn't exist in that kind of life. just some proof, i guess, that it is possible to come out the other side. |
there was that time i woke up with my bed all burned up, where i was not on drugs but have no memory of apparently setting my bed on fire. things like that are pretty scary. and my mom did tell me that she knew i was going to kill myself and that she was preparing for it. she gave up on me, basically. not that i blame her. it was basically a forgone conclusion that i'd end up dead or in a long term state hospital eventually.
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i think reprise definitely revels, this thread is a great example
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a couple of years ago he did kill himself. the sad thing is that there was no warning. he seemed to have been "normal" for many years. None of his old school routine. he was just there one day and a few days later I found out he'd done it. No notes to anybody. No warning. Nothing. One day he was there and then dead. :confused: |
my cousin had schizo and that's exactly what he did as well
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not to say that everyone does that or we shouldn't take threats lightly
but seriously what is this thread for, exactly? |
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Doesn't ring a bell
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BTW I'm not threatening anything and don't believe I ever have on here
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I haven't IRL either iirc. Threatening suicide was never my style. Like, no one knew if I had plans... like I said, this was me talking to myself and I never would have shared it with anyone while it was happening.
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in a fucked up way I kind of like my depression
I know it's terrible and I'm self destructive when I'm low. But ever since i went on meds and kind of got my shit together I think a lot about it and wish I could slip back. maybe that's a sign that I'm still depressed? |
How do you know exactly how much of a drug you can take and not die without the internet unless this kid was one of those 90s bbs nerds
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