Saturday, May 18, 2019

This Fucking Funk

My lips feel permanently unable to smile. Joy is a stranger.

I ate a hamburger and fries from McDonald's and frowned the whole time. McDonald's has always cheered me up, since my happy meal days.

"Why are you sad?" someone asked me. "I'm always sad," I answered.

I signed up for kickboxing today. I'm so angry and I feel out of control of my life, trapped in this worthless existence. I'm just so fucking sad, and now I'm angry, at everyone. I'm crying all the time. The only semi-relief I feel is laying in bed surrounded by pillows with the door and windows closed and lights off.

Tuesday, May 14, 2019

Fighting Suicide

“As a social worker, I’m seeing red flags when you say that. Do you feel like you are a burden on your friends and family?”

I was completing my discharge after-care plan with the social worker provided to me by the hospital. Her name was Hanna and she was soft spoken and kind. She also had the power to delay me leaving.

This wasn’t my first time answering questions like these. I have been in counseling since third grade, including a prior inpatient hospital stay when I was a freshman in high school. I know the red-flag answers that make your freedom questionable to mental health workers. There I sat, only a couple hours away from being discharged after 7 days in the inpatient unit. I was admitted on Valentine’s Day, ironically. A true broken heart.

The answer was yes. Yes, I did feel like a burden on my family and friends. I have an idea of what the people in my life are experiencing. They have their own challenges, and when I see me added to the mix, I’m a problem. I require time, and care and strength – the burden of simply keeping me alive. But I kept that truth to myself. Hanna and I finished my after-care plan and I was discharged knowing I may hang myself any day.

Coming home I was restless; being home I was confused. I journaled my first night home, romanticizing my hanging. Just being suspended, floating away to somewhere. I knew the songs I wanted playing, I knew which door I would use, which scarf. The thought of everything coming together to create my death felt beautiful, desirable. My letter to family was written. I gave instructions on what to do with my belongings and my body. I looked around my apartment at all of my stuff and started thinking about what I would take to the donation center and what I would sell to help with final expenses. My rational, methodical thoughts and actions scared the shit out of me. This is really happening, I thought.

My earliest memories as a little girl are of me feeling lonely and unwanted, hopeless and wishing to die. Those feelings persisted. I became self-destructive at an early age, doing poorly in school and having conflicts with friends and teachers. My self-destruction became a beast in college and I was the catalyst of so many of my own problems. I also had spurts of amazing progress – Dean’s List, long-distance running, doing well at work. But the good was few and far between, always temporary and I never felt I was worthy of much. So I damn sure did what I could to cheapen myself.

Family checked on me in the weeks following my discharge. Understandably, the texts and calls slowed as everyone got back to their own lives. They have no idea, I thought. I was taken aback that they didn’t suspect I was ending my life soon. They are going to be shocked. But they shouldn’t be shocked. Did they really think I was going to make it?

Saturday, January 5, 2019

Poem: In the Water

Always I let you bring me
Down
Down
Drowning me

Always I let you flip my body
‘round
‘round
Owning me

Grab me by the throat
Beat me with my silence
At what point did I become so tolerant

Silver lining no kids involved
Twice that problem you resolved
Writhing pain from the pills I took
Two souls I killed, I read the book
Father, please lead me to hell where I deserve to cook

Promises of a future family
When the time is right, “Wait, just you’ll see!”
More souls will die, don’t care ‘bout mine
Mourning murdering my babies all the time

Complicit, explicit
Can breathe no more from inhaling all your shit
No God, no family they’re far from done
No rescue boat so I escape alone

Follow the waves till I find the bay
"The time is here," I hear my babies say
Sand between my toes one last time
Why look back, no soul left behind

I let myself bring me
Down
Down
Drowning me

Down
Down
Drowning me