Healing Isn’t A One Time Thing

As my recent posts have shown, I haven’t been in a good place emotionally. My issues and demons have re-surfaced in a huge way, causing me to doubt all the healing that I thought had taken place within me over the past few years.

The other evening I stumbled upon a performance (which you can find at the end of this post) from Demi Lovato. It was a case of the right place, the right time. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get through the night. I just felt utterly and completely broken. This video is the most powerful live performance I’ve ever seen. I felt it down to my core and have never connected as deeply to any other song as I did this one, and with the emotion channeled into it.

My therapy session on Wednesday was a raw, emotional one. From the beginning my therapist pointed out that I seem very emotional. I just didn’t want to hold anything back. I didn’t have the strength to either. Turns out the emotions I’m feeling around her pregnancy are partly jealousy that this little baby is going to have her as a mommy, and the situation has also opened up all those old wounds around my own childhood. Memories and emotions I just couldn’t hide or run from.

This performance wasn’t just relatable to me now, but fit as the anthem to my childhood and adolescent years too. The words are almost identical to my own countless pleas, especially when I was a teen. If I hadn’t burned all the pages of my diary back then, it would be littered with it. “Please send me anyone.” “Is there anyone?”, “No-one’s listening”, “can anyone hear me?” So that evening, the lyrics went down deep into my soul. It perfectly captured what I was feeling. I completely broke down. The story behind the song is just as powerful. She wrote it a few days before her overdose. Her story is actually very inspiring.

We all have demons that we are battling. We have relapses. That doesn’t make us weak. It doesn’t mean healing hasn’t taken place. It means we’re human. And even when it seems like we won’t be okay, that we won’t make it through, we can and we do. She’s still here. I’m still here. You’re still here.

“Reach out to somebody”. We see and hear that message so often. But it isn’t that easy. Sometimes we don’t want to burden others. Other times when we do reach out, we get hurt, or end up feeling worse or made to feel guilty for our feelings and thoughts. But we all need and deserve to have someone truly listen to us. To hear us. And it’s okay to reach out. It’s also okay that sometimes we reach out to the wrong people. It doesn’t mean we made a mistake. It just means that the other person maybe doesn’t have the ability/capacity to be a support. That’s something that I still struggle with. Blaming myself, feeling ashamed, feeling like I’m the entire problem when a cry for help goes unanswered or ends badly.

The suicidal ideation is still there. The darkness still huge. I’m not out of the woods. But I wanted to write this post anyway. For me, and for others also struggling right now who may be reading this.

“You Don’t Really Want to Die, You Want Connection”

Maybe my therapist is right.

After all, why am I still here? Why am I still holding on? What exactly am I holding on for? Part of it is because I don’t have the courage to try to end things. The fear of failing and coming out alive but in a worse state terrifies me. Then there’s the handful of people who I know it will affect. Even if in the moment I feel no-one will even notice, or if they do, they’ll get over it quickly. But what my therapist said also made a lot of sense when she said it. It resonated.

The way a hug from someone special (and I don’t mean just with romantic partners) has the ability to snap me out of the suicidal space in my mind and put me on a high. The way a simple touch of the hand can make me feel warm and safe. Now, thanks to humans messing with nature, we’re in a time when even a quick hug is cautioned against.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I’m really struggling with this whole living alone thing. The days are okay. It’s the evenings that are the worst. That’s when the loneliness and bad thoughts peak. I’d give anything to have someone here, doing their own thing, or us doing something together. I just want to feel another presence here.

I miss living with M. It was so good for me. She was good for me. I miss having her and doggy in my every day life. And when M was away for a week or two, I still had doggy, so wasn’t truly alone. What I want more than anything is my own dog. Sometimes it feels like that’s never going to happen.

Earlier this evening, the tears that had been building and threatening to escape for weeks finally made their way out. It was excruciating. At one point I felt like I was going to die. I had to keep mentally saying to myself that no one has died from crying before (as far as I know). That went on for quite a while, and at some point I knew I needed to speak to someone right then. Obviously my therapist was out (we had a video call check in this afternoon – which I’m grateful for since she’s actually on leave). I also considered A, my previous therapist, but that was also not an option. The only other person that came to mind was M. It was after 8pm, so didn’t know whether it was appropriate to call her then, but I took the chance anyway. She didn’t answer at first, but she called back almost immediately and we spoke for over an hour. Those who know me, know I hate talking on the phone. But I really needed that. She made me laugh, talked about doggy, and just random stuff. Her daughter in law is staying with her for two weeks, but M said that I must come spend the weekend once she leaves. And my favourite part was when she said I should come say a quick hi to her tomorrow and meet her daughter in law, and then I can take doggy for the day. I haven’t been to the beach in months, so am planning on going for a long walk with her there.

I’m still very emotional, but at least I have something to look forward to tomorrow.

It’s been a tough few months. I feel like I’m in limbo. Stuck. There’s no certainty about when I’ll be moving to Sweden, other than the plan is before the end of the year (if the borders open up by then). So I might be spending Christmas alone. It’s all so unsettling.

Everyone around me seems to be moving forward. Getting engaged, falling pregnant. And then there’s me. Longing for that someone special, and feeling like that’s another thing that will never happen for me.

But hey, I’m still breathing.

Emmengard’s Suicide Scale

I’ve been dealing with suicidal ideation for the past two weeks. It varies in intensity, and aside from a few “happy” moments here and there, is almost constantly in the background. I try to keep myself distracted where I can. I’ve been going to group again, mostly because I feel it’s a source of support in a way, especially with my therapist being away. During the last one I had a sort of mini breakdown directly afterward and before going home, reached out to the psychologist who had led the group. We sat and spoke for a little while, and I left feeling a bit better having gotten some of the emotion and thoughts out. It’s not easy for me to open up in group, especially when it’s as big as it was that evening, so I’m grateful to that therapist for making some time for me afterward.

The next day I came across this image. It’s not always easy to explain to people (or even myself) how bad I’m really feeling, so this “scale” is helpful. I find images and cartoons so much easier to understand, as it tends to make abstract concepts easier to grasp. I’ve basically been on the 6th block, and even though it’s overwhelming at times, I can cope with it. I know that when I’m getting further along, it’s time to get help.

What do you think? You can view the full sized image on the website listed below (opens in a new tab/window).

Emmengards Suicide Scale
Source: https://emmengard.com/2019/05/07/suicide-scale/

Why I Won’t Be Reaching Out Again

It was my birthday just recently, and I had a bit of a “mid-life crisis” that day. Panicking that I’m in my middle 30’s and still living with parents, and that it seems things will never get better. It doesn’t help that I’ve been in a depressive phase as it is for the past while. I go to bed praying that I don’t wake up, but when I do wake up try to tell myself that today will be a better day. It never is.

I find myself becoming increasingly unstable, and I don’t know what to do about it. I learned a couple of months ago that reaching out for help either gets met with rejection or being completely ignored. Of course, I knew this for most of my life, but I seriously thought and hoped (and was told) that it wouldn’t always be that way.

Tonight I learned the hard way again. It doesn’t matter how much I’m struggling, or even when I desperately beg (something I never thought I’d ever do) for that support- support they absolutely have the power to give- I’m not going to get it. The message I hear loud and clear is “you don’t matter”, “your life means nothing to me”, and “I don’t care”. It especially hurts like hell when it comes from someone you’re so attached to, someone you thought cared. Finding out they actually don’t… Words can’t accurately convey what that feels like.

I genuinely feel unworthy, rejected, abandoned and like I don’t belong anywhere. Just want to mention that I’m not talking about my therapist, but someone else in the mental health profession. Although on that note, the way I feel is that I’m just another client. That’s the truth though… I am just another client. I’m not special. I’m not important. You know, you go into therapy and don’t count on how important that relationship is going to be. But I’m beginning to see that I don’t want that relationship anymore. I don’t want a close relationship anymore, because it just leads to hurt and disappointment. Our therapists are professionals and can’t give us some things we wish they could. They’re not our friends, siblings, parents, etc. It’s just a working relationship. I don’t see the point of attachment anymore. I don’t think there ever was one, other than a baby’s necessary early attachment to their mother or primary caregiver.

Often these days I wonder… do I even want to continue? Because I’m slowly giving up on attachment and support. I’m definitely done with asking for help. From now on I’m a closed book. No one needs to know I’m struggling. After all, it doesn’t help even when they do know.

Struggling

I’ve been struggling a lot these past few days.

My sympathetic nervous system and good old Amy(gdala) thinks I’m in constant danger. My emotions are all over the place. For a couple of hours yesterday I felt completely empty, then another torrent of emotions.

Reading my previous post back, I’m aware that my current emotions will pass, but then what? It comes back again at some point. Like the ocean and waves, it’s never ending. Like I told my therapist today, using coping tools and skills is hard and exhausting.

My sensory system is even more sensitive lately too. Everything feels brighter, faster, louder, leading to me losing my shit much much quicker. Anxiety is a bitch. And my trusty benzo’s? Well, no effect, they’ve been pretty useless. Although I wonder if they haven’t actually been working, and I would have been even worse without them?

Thank whoever for therapy today. It was intense, and most of it a blur, but C was once again very comforting and helpful. We didn’t do much “work”, as most of the session was focused on helping me get regulated and become present, but I was exhausted afterward. I still am.

At the end of the session I got nice firm hug from her. I needed that so much. Hugging a stuffed toy just isn’t the same as close contact with another human. Just as an aside, we don’t always hug after sessions. It’s only happened about three times because firstly, sometimes I’m too ashamed/scared to ask for one, while other times I just don’t feel the need. I wouldn’t like regular hugs, because then it just becomes like a routine and while I thrive on routine, this is something different.

I’m not looking forward to waking up tomorrow morning. Just the thought of another day gives me a sinking feeling. I could take the day off work, but even that feels depressing.

They say struggles make us stronger, but it feels like the opposite is true. I don’t feel stronger. I feel weaker instead.

Remembering Emotions As Waves

It still catches me by surprise how quickly my emotions can change from one minute, hour, week, to the next.

When I wrote my last post I was in a pit of despair which had rolled over me while doing some movement and muscle exercises (sensory integration stuff). Everything just suddenly seemed pointless, and didn’t have the strength or energy to stop the spiral leading me down a dark road.

Once I’m in that dark place, most of the time I can’t even summon up the thought that it will be over soon. I forget that our emotions are like waves, they come and go. You know, the stuff we’re taught in DBT. In those moments it feels like it’s never going to end. That this is it. This is life. This is me. This is how it’s always going to be and there’s nothing I can do about it.

When I’m not in that place where suicidal ideation is so strong, then I remember that this too shall pass. Then I can see the waves and am more able to cope with the emotions rising and falling, crashing and calming.

Here’s to riding the waves.

Safe Haven

These past two weeks have been a nightmare.

Elizabeth and I broke up last week Monday. I want to write about it sometime soon, as I feel I’m still processing this. I don’t want to get into it right now.

On Friday afternoon I hit a crisis point. I had been dealing with suicidal ideation since even before the breakup, but it came and went. It wasn’t until afterward that it started to become a permanent fixture in my mind. My current living and work situation, and a few other things as well, were leading me down a very dark road.

I went to a job interview on Thursday. The first interview I was actually looking forward to, as the job seemed perfect for me. Even though I was feeling like shit, I managed to compartmentalize and focus on the interview. I felt it went well from my side. I was supposed to hear back from my agent by the end of the working day, but I didn’t. On Friday morning when I hadn’t had any feedback, I emailed my agent and asked her whether she had heard anything. I was positive. So positive. Later that morning I received her reply that I didn’t get the job.

That was the last straw. I was in the office with the dad and stepmom, and I had about an hour or so (can’t remember) before it was time to go home. I had a “meeting” with my ex business partner (we still meet up to chat and help one another with our individual businesses) directly after work, so I went to meet up with her.

She could see I was in a bad space. I broke down right then and there in the restaurant. Usually I’m able to keep my composure in public, but not this time. To cut a long story short, I ended up admitting myself into the clinic that day.

I’m still here and I’m glad I made the decision to come in that day. As I mentioned before, Saturday evening’s are usually my worst days. Since I’ve been struggling a lot with suicidal ideation and had my plan in place, I knew the weekend was going to be a hard one. If I hadn’t been in here I don’t know if I would have gotten through the weekend. I’m still not completely over the suicidal ideation, but I’m very slowly starting to regain a sense of distant hope and the will to live.

The Ghost of Saturday Evenings

For some reason, it’s very hard for me to be alone on a Saturday evening. I’ve noticed that this is when I struggle the most with intense feelings, suicidal thoughts, and self-harm urges. It’s also when I most want to be alone and am prone to push people away. The loneliness is overwhelming, yet at the same time, I just want to be alone. It doesn’t make sense.

I’ve noticed this pattern for a while now, and tried to figure out how far back this goes. It goes far. Way back.

What is it about a Saturday evening that stirs all these things up? I wish I knew the answer to this question. All I know is that the emotions come from a very deep, far away place and time.

Why Stay?

I’m a burden. An inconvenience for the most part.

I annoy people.

The world doesn’t need me.

These are the words running through my mind right now. Some days I don’t even know why I’m still here. What am I doing here? Maybe at first a few people will be sad that I’m gone, but in time they’ll forget about me, and I’ll only be a passing thought. One of those annoying thoughts that pop up from time to time, and which is only an inconvenience.

What am I still doing here? I don’t know. Does there have to be a purpose to this life? Some believe there is. I don’t. I haven’t found a purpose for me to be here. Help one person here and there like I always thought I’d do? But what’s the point?

I’m one person in an ocean of people. Barely noticeable. Not important. The world is already full. One less person won’t be missed, but will help alleviate the stress of the earth.

So why stay?


NOTE: This is the way I’m currently feeling, but I won’t act on any urges. I’m fully aware, even with these thoughts raging, that suicide will only hurt certain people I love. And I love them enough to not want to cause them even one day of pain. This keeps me alive.