Friday, January 7, 2011

Surviving Suicide and Its Consquences

Last night, while my fiancé and I were watching the Montreal Canadiens struggle (yet beat) the Pittsburgh Penguins, I saw a tweet by @jolieodell pass through my feed. Its title changed the course of my evening and my day today.

It was simply titled : The Subject of Suicide & Why I'm Alive Today. (Read her complete post here.)

What happened next shocked me. She made me think of my own attempted suicide and the reasons and the incredible fact that I, too, survived it. Her transparency and blunt honesty pushed me to deal with the most sensitive topic for me: my failure to die and success in living.

Let me finally explain and... go there (whether you chose to read this or not). And to learn the steps I took to actually survive long term, you can read this post.

Almost ten years ago, I had gone through a very tough and difficult time for myself. After having had a rough adolescence dealing with being a social reject, hanging with the wrong crowds begging for acceptance, dealing with drugs and abuse, family issues, mental health issues, losing my first job, oh hell, there was a big old thick black cloud storming over my head for so long (years) I could no longer deal with it.

We hear that so often when it comes to depression: I could no longer deal with it. But what does it feel like when that decision to end it hits you?

Believe me, choosing to end your life is not a spur of the moment decision. It's a decision that accompanies physical, emotional and psychological exhaustion and sometimes comes in the shape of the little voice in your head. Mine told me: "You suck. You're stupid. You got yourself in all of these dumbass situations and now you can't get yourself out. Bravo. You'll never be happy, don't even think about it. No one can help you. No one will understand. You're a cry baby. You're selfish. You fucked up. Again. And again. And again. You'll never get it right. No one loves you. Just finish it. I just want to die." (Those words were like a broken record in my head night after night after day after day for years on end. You eventually believe them and find a disgusting comfort in them).

You delve so deeply into the comfort of giving in, of not moving or talking or leaving the house (because you're too ashamed and tired), that the only feasible way out (in your very ill brain, at that point), that the easiest and simplest way out seems to be ending it all. It's impossible to look at the ones around you that DO love you and believe that it's enough, that they'll be willing to undertake the care necessary to heave you out of it, because even you know that you can't do it alone. You don't want to bother them, though. You're ashamed and don't even want them to know YOU know you're a failure; your little voice lets you believe that they'll just agree with you and beat down on you even more. Depression truly is a black hole and you become blind and ignorant.

When issues accumulate, you lose the capacity to deal with the racing heart, the shaking, the head aches, the body aches, the crying and weeping, the utter physical exhaustion, the exasperation of constantly having to deal with stressful situations, the anxiety attacks before having to go to work, the sense of utter failure and disappointment. Dragging yourself out of depression seems completely impossible or just too difficult to even begin to believe you'll make it out alive.

You actually believe you want the earth to rip open and just swallow you so you don't have to deal with anything anymore. You can't deal with anything anymore. Your cup runeth over... and not in the good way.

November 2002

I had just lost my job, my first ever "career" oriented job. My best friend (and former boyfriend) no longer wanted to deal with my destructive behaviour and cut me off. My parents had divorced not long from then and I had moved into my first apartment. I was in the midst of abusing drugs and alcohol to 'feel something'. I had returned to hanging out with my high school "friends" that also abused drugs and alcohol and abused of my ridiculous need to be generous and kind and loved and accepted.

One morning, I woke up sluggishly. Alone. I went into the living room. I hadn't showered in days, my head was pounding. I lit up a cigarette and turned on the TV. I got up and went in the bathroom to get Advil. When I opened the medicine cabinet, I felt a rush of relief. "Today. I've had enough. It's today."

I grabbed all of the pill bottles I could find. Advil, Motrin, codeine, something my roommate used, no idea what is was (I left 10$ on the sink to pay her back for them, whatever they were), a new pack of sinus pills. Literally every pill in the house.

I dropped them on the coffee table and headed to the liquor cabinet. Goldshlagger and that half and half wine liquor, whatever it's called... They were my chasers.

So as the cloud of smoke from my cigarettes thickened, I started swallowing pills, 4-5 at a time, chasing them with the alcohol. I watched TV, kept smoking and swallowing.

I didn't bother writing a note. Instead, I wrote in my journal three words. "Free at last." I then proceed to fill pages and pages with what I was feeling, how the pills were affecting me, how comforting death was going to be. (I no longer have that journal... I think it's a blessing.)

Eventually, I got sleepy, so I remember grabbing all the proof and taking it with me in my room (my roomie was a stickler for cleanliness and I was ashamed of the mess I was making.) I then remember collapsing in my bed, face first in the pillow.

From there, everything is fuzzy. My friend (and saviour) says I had paged him. I don't remember doing that. He said he tried calling me back. When I finally answered, I wasn't coherent, was making no sense. So he rushed over to my apartment and was about to break down the door when my roommate got back from a weekend trip. He burst into my room, tried slapping me awake (this is what he told me, I was out cold).

All I remember is my head hitting a car door when he tried sitting me in the front seat of his Civic.

My next memory is the excruciating pain and burn of the doctors shoving a tube down my nose and throat and pumping my stomach.

My parents and sister showed up... and then the wave of reality slammed into me like a brick wall.

Shame. Anger. A plethora of swear words were in my brain until a weird euphoria hit me. I scared myself and my mother when I just got extremely light hearted and funny and happy all of a sudden. I couldn't explain it. Still can't. Once I was well enough, they transferred me over to the psychiatric emergency ward of the Douglas Hospital. That was the scariest night of my life.

After years of therapy, ups and downs, diagnoses and medication and more therapy, I'm happy to report that I'm alive. I made it.

There were a few severe depression attacks after that, of course. But I made it. I dealt with thoughts and desires of death for years... but 10 years later, I'm happy. I wasn't supposed to be here so I've learned to take nothing for granted anymore.

I finally wrote to the friend who saved my life today to thank him. We'd parted ways about a year after the "day". My turmoil was far from finished (it was very recently that I'd successfully escaped depression), and we were destructive to one another.

I owe him my life, though, and all of the amazing things I'm living these days.

I learned that the road down into darkness is long and slippery and the road up is hard and bumpy, it's tiring and exhausting to deal with, but with the right help, unrelenting love from just one person or an army of people, care, and relearning to "deal" and learn new coping mechanisms, it DOES get better. Much much better.

Thank you Jolie and thank you Manny. (And thanks Mom for calling me 10 times a day all those weeks after the Day. I know I called you annoying back then, but I appreciated it. A lot.)

3 comments:

  1. Thanks for writing this post - it's so very accurate. It sure would have helped me to read it when I was going through my issues.

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  2. your post made me cry. i love you xo

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  3. wow, i had no idea. and to think, just last year you were having a very profound impact on so many lives down in Haiti, helping them, helping save lives by getting them food and water and even helping our own little girl and her orphanage. you positively changed so many lives, so many are now grateful to you, we're grateful to you, you have blessed many!

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