This is the phone number that saved my life.
This is the number for the suicide hotline. I made that call on June 29 at 10:11pm. That call was the beginning of saving my life.
The next day I got the number from a coworker for a local psychiatric center. The second call I had made that saved my life.
It got that bad.
To those who don't see me every day, you may only have an idea of my struggle from what I post online. I've been very open about this struggle because I fully believe that every conversation you have chips away at the stigma of mental illness. If you were one of the unfortunate ones that see me every day, you probably had every idea that things had gotten that bad. The cutting, the suicidal ideations, the intrusive thoughts taking over my life, the purging, the starving, all of it was at the worst it had EVER been. Every time I thought I had hit rock bottom before was never anything like this.
I lucked out and got an appointment that day. I was immediately taken off of my current medication and set up for a psychiatry appointment for two weeks later. The two weeks of pure hell that was being unmedicated will never leave me. Everything was at its worst. No exaggeration, the amount of times I thought about just ending my life was enough to make me consider putting myself in the hospital.
Then the slew of diagnoses.
Major Depressive Disorder, Bulimia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and a High Suicide Risk. My new therapist insisted on seeing me again in one week.
This is the part I haven't been totally open about. The depression, bulimia, and anxiety, yep. I would have laughed at her and left that day had she said anything but those. The PTSD makes a lot of sense in retrospect, but I still don't totally feel like I deserve that kind of diagnosis. Apparently though, when someone close to you commits suicide, it complicates situations as opposed to losing someone through a natural death. Particularly when that person dies from the sister disease of yours. It turns a bleak thought of "It won't happen to me" into a very stark reality that yes, it can absolutely happen to you.
I still do not enjoy being labelled as a high suicide risk. As correct as she was, I hate it. I hate it and I feel like it's an over-exaggeration because I flat out told her I didn't have the balls to off myself. In those words. However, with my mental state and the instability I had been in, I honestly believe any successful attempt I would have made would have been an accident. I wasn't me.
I still don't think Tori intentionally killed herself. I just don't. That's exactly where people saw me at that point in time. Nobody would have really thought it was intentional, just an unfortunate accident in the light of mental illness.
Missing Tori is incredibly hard for me still. It's hard because sometimes I'm angry that she's gone. Then I'm angry about feeling a perfectly normal stage of grief because she was mentally ill. Being on both sides of the suicide spectrum is so hard. I knew deep down that everything I felt about losing Tori people would feel about me. There was still a significant part of me, though, that felt the pain would never stop. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. When one of your best friends commits suicide, you feel like a shit person. You feel like you should have done more, you should have been there more, you should have seen the struggling. You feel angry that they couldn't just hold on because it always gets better. The funny part of depression, though, is that you never feel like it gets better. Everything feels like one thing after another, and with all of that piling up on you, the breaking point finally comes. You start pushing people away because you feel like they don't care about your problems, that they are insignificant to anybody else, even though they are the literal end of your world. Those are the moments you need to seek out people the most, and even picking up the phone will be the hardest thing you do.
Part of me wanted to live that night. That's the reason I picked up the phone. There was a rational part of me that still had some sort of desire to live and to see for myself that it got better.
Once my psychiatry appointment was over, I left with my prescriptions and started on them immediately. I'm still not great, but I'm worlds better than I was. Three weeks tonight will be how long I started on my anti-psychotic, and I notice a difference. My friends and co-workers are noticing a difference too. Talking these feelings out with people that love me has been another way of getting relief from the thoughts and feelings. I also rely a lot on distractions these days. I try to fill my days with seeing people or doing things because when I'm lonely, I get myself in a lot of trouble. It's no where near as crippling as it was, but it still sucks. It's an awful feeling, being depressed. I'm just...depressed. I can't help it and I can't stop it but I absolutely hate it. Days like today, where I'm just lonely and don't really have anybody to turn to are the worst. Nothing is actually wrong. I don't have anything to talk out. I'm just lonely. At the same time though, I know this won't last forever and that these feelings absolutely will pass. It's like I finally have a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel that everybody talks about. I see it. I see it, and if you're struggling I highly encourage you to get help so that you can see it too. I don't recognize myself from who I was just three weeks ago. There's no shame in needing medication, and I want people to know that. I want to talk you through your problems with you because I've been there and I know the feelings you're having are hard but I promise you they aren't forever. If you take nothing out of this post, please utilize the number that is the title if you need it. There is a reason those people are there. They may not know you, but they can help you. They will listen without judgement. There's no way they can judge you because they don't know you. There is a reason you're on this Earth, and no matter how hard it is to see it right now, you need to stick around because you will find that reason. This wasn't an overnight miracle. The hard days are still SO hard for me, partially because I know how amazing my good days feel. Also, though, I know days like today are going to happen but they won't last forever. Nothing lasts forever. The good, bad, and ugly, everything passes with time.
Things will get better and you need to be around to see it.
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This is the number for the suicide hotline. I made that call on June 29 at 10:11pm. That call was the beginning of saving my life.
The next day I got the number from a coworker for a local psychiatric center. The second call I had made that saved my life.
It got that bad.
To those who don't see me every day, you may only have an idea of my struggle from what I post online. I've been very open about this struggle because I fully believe that every conversation you have chips away at the stigma of mental illness. If you were one of the unfortunate ones that see me every day, you probably had every idea that things had gotten that bad. The cutting, the suicidal ideations, the intrusive thoughts taking over my life, the purging, the starving, all of it was at the worst it had EVER been. Every time I thought I had hit rock bottom before was never anything like this.
I lucked out and got an appointment that day. I was immediately taken off of my current medication and set up for a psychiatry appointment for two weeks later. The two weeks of pure hell that was being unmedicated will never leave me. Everything was at its worst. No exaggeration, the amount of times I thought about just ending my life was enough to make me consider putting myself in the hospital.
Then the slew of diagnoses.
Major Depressive Disorder, Bulimia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and a High Suicide Risk. My new therapist insisted on seeing me again in one week.
This is the part I haven't been totally open about. The depression, bulimia, and anxiety, yep. I would have laughed at her and left that day had she said anything but those. The PTSD makes a lot of sense in retrospect, but I still don't totally feel like I deserve that kind of diagnosis. Apparently though, when someone close to you commits suicide, it complicates situations as opposed to losing someone through a natural death. Particularly when that person dies from the sister disease of yours. It turns a bleak thought of "It won't happen to me" into a very stark reality that yes, it can absolutely happen to you.
I still do not enjoy being labelled as a high suicide risk. As correct as she was, I hate it. I hate it and I feel like it's an over-exaggeration because I flat out told her I didn't have the balls to off myself. In those words. However, with my mental state and the instability I had been in, I honestly believe any successful attempt I would have made would have been an accident. I wasn't me.
I still don't think Tori intentionally killed herself. I just don't. That's exactly where people saw me at that point in time. Nobody would have really thought it was intentional, just an unfortunate accident in the light of mental illness.
Missing Tori is incredibly hard for me still. It's hard because sometimes I'm angry that she's gone. Then I'm angry about feeling a perfectly normal stage of grief because she was mentally ill. Being on both sides of the suicide spectrum is so hard. I knew deep down that everything I felt about losing Tori people would feel about me. There was still a significant part of me, though, that felt the pain would never stop. There was no light at the end of the tunnel. When one of your best friends commits suicide, you feel like a shit person. You feel like you should have done more, you should have been there more, you should have seen the struggling. You feel angry that they couldn't just hold on because it always gets better. The funny part of depression, though, is that you never feel like it gets better. Everything feels like one thing after another, and with all of that piling up on you, the breaking point finally comes. You start pushing people away because you feel like they don't care about your problems, that they are insignificant to anybody else, even though they are the literal end of your world. Those are the moments you need to seek out people the most, and even picking up the phone will be the hardest thing you do.
Part of me wanted to live that night. That's the reason I picked up the phone. There was a rational part of me that still had some sort of desire to live and to see for myself that it got better.
Once my psychiatry appointment was over, I left with my prescriptions and started on them immediately. I'm still not great, but I'm worlds better than I was. Three weeks tonight will be how long I started on my anti-psychotic, and I notice a difference. My friends and co-workers are noticing a difference too. Talking these feelings out with people that love me has been another way of getting relief from the thoughts and feelings. I also rely a lot on distractions these days. I try to fill my days with seeing people or doing things because when I'm lonely, I get myself in a lot of trouble. It's no where near as crippling as it was, but it still sucks. It's an awful feeling, being depressed. I'm just...depressed. I can't help it and I can't stop it but I absolutely hate it. Days like today, where I'm just lonely and don't really have anybody to turn to are the worst. Nothing is actually wrong. I don't have anything to talk out. I'm just lonely. At the same time though, I know this won't last forever and that these feelings absolutely will pass. It's like I finally have a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel that everybody talks about. I see it. I see it, and if you're struggling I highly encourage you to get help so that you can see it too. I don't recognize myself from who I was just three weeks ago. There's no shame in needing medication, and I want people to know that. I want to talk you through your problems with you because I've been there and I know the feelings you're having are hard but I promise you they aren't forever. If you take nothing out of this post, please utilize the number that is the title if you need it. There is a reason those people are there. They may not know you, but they can help you. They will listen without judgement. There's no way they can judge you because they don't know you. There is a reason you're on this Earth, and no matter how hard it is to see it right now, you need to stick around because you will find that reason. This wasn't an overnight miracle. The hard days are still SO hard for me, partially because I know how amazing my good days feel. Also, though, I know days like today are going to happen but they won't last forever. Nothing lasts forever. The good, bad, and ugly, everything passes with time.
Things will get better and you need to be around to see it.
