I just realized, for the first time in 10 years, the anniversary of my last suicide attempt past without notice (December 23, 2006). I guess my inattention is a good thing? It means I’m not focused on that moment in the past?
The day Ginny asked to get coffee after work, I promised her I’d call her before killing myself. That puts me in a bind. If I don’t call her, she will feel extra guilty. If I do call her and she can’t talk me out of it, she knows where I live. Therefore, she could notify my parents.
If I promise to call my psychiatrist instead, but don’t, she would not know the difference. However, she might think “If only I’d made her promise to call me anyway. I could’ve talked her out of it.” People find a way to feel guilty after suicide regardless, so maybe it doesn’t matter if I lie to her? I’m trying to make sure I lessen the impact on her. In general, she is one of the people who would quickly move on, but not if I screw up and make her feel responsible. Then again, she is logical and fact-based. She would realize I am an independent agent and she could not control my actions.
After all, my psychiatrist made me promise I’d call him, but he made me promise that last time and I did not call him before attempting suicide. Consequently, I’ not sure why he believes me when I promised I’d call him this time.
I wish I could cut and not leave scars.
Last night, my mind turned to the dark place I avoided since Wednesday.
Holy shit. I just had a horrifying thought! My parents came to visit. Maybe my parents are a trigger. Of course, correlation does not equal causation. There are other contributing factors like perhaps the increased medication dose I started last Monday broke through on Wednesday and last night I was alone and facing the prospect of a weekend by myself.
Regardless, I was suicidal and decided no one other than my mom would suffer from my death. I could not quite get myself to believe she would not feel incomprehensible sadness. Therefore, my mind turned to… murder-suicide. *feels sick to stomach and evil* I would kill myself before ever acting on that thought, if only to protect her!
On days like this where I’m wilding going from highs to lows, I feel as if my childhood insistence that I was truly evil was correct… That there is some unnamed darkness inside me and if I don’t hurt myself, I will hurt others. I’m terrified that I am capable of acting out. I’m afraid if I stop harming myself, the anger inside me will boil over and I will hurt others. Therefore, self-destruction helps everyone.
After that I realized Tuesday – Friday would be the perfect time because my mom is out of town. She left today, but I’m still house sitting until Monday night. Therefore, she would not have to deal with identifying my body or receiving a call from the police.
I would not do it at home. I’d do it somewhere she never goes because I don’t want her thinking of my body hanging from the basement rafters or in the grocery store parking lot.
Fuck. I don’t even know what happened. I was FINE Friday afternoon. I was fine after they came to visit, but then an hour later I started drifting. I don’t know why. I forgot 20 mg of my meds on Friday, but that shouldn’t have any immediate effect.
I got my putty in the mail. It is pretty awesome! I played with it a little bit and it helped, but not enough. I’m saying “screw it” and ordering binge food. I resisted binging for a while and purging for even longer, but binging will numb me and purging will both punish and exhaust me.
Exhaustion reminds me of a potential cause for the suicidal relapse. One theory about anti-depressants’ suicide risk is that it gives people with depression an energy boost, before it completely kicks in. As a result, they have enough energy to carry out a plan, whereas before the medication, they were too lethargic to do anything.
I can’t tell anyone because they’re quicker to hospitalize someone for homicidal urges than suicidal urges. I believe this will pass.
My class, assuming I am both alive and not in the hospital, starts a week from tomorrow. I am scared of failing.
Work was okay. I was with the Down Syndrome boy again. He was lots of fun. During break, we played with bubbles and shot baskets together.
Ginny worked both lunches, which was disappointing. I didn’t feel like eating. Since she wasn’t there and I ate for no reason yesterday, I didn’t eat lunch. I care about her opinion more than anyone else at work. For some reason, her presence creates social pressure to eat when I don’t want to. Perhaps her opinion matters to me because she understands and knows more than anyone else.
However, I might’ve needed food. The kid I was with in the afternoon, had a difficult day.
We had an all staff meeting after the kids left. Someone keeps stealing pizza. Before the meeting, Ginny asked me to grab coffee after work. Of course, I agreed. We talked about work for a little bit, but I knew she was worried about me. She didn’t realize how suicidal I am until I gave her two bottles of sleeping pills.
It is hard to explain my state. I can’t promise I won’t act because I am too impulsive. I can be fine one minute (relatively speaking) and the next, suicidal. She brought up the ER, but they wouldn’t put me on a 72 hour hold because I don’t currently want to kill myself (for the past 6 hours) and I would not admit myself. For some reason, talking helped, even though our conversation was no different than the conversations we have almost every night on Facebook. While our conversations often contain levity, my overall mood usually only lifts a little bit. Months ago, she could easily get me to rationalize out of my disordered thoughts. It is harder now. Our conversations used to always make me feel better.
Talking in person was different for some reason. I’m not sure why. Regardless, it made me feel better. Perhaps seeing her facial expressions and hearing her tone of voice made it impossible to convince myself that she is lying when she says she cares, she does like me, or no one at work is mad at me. I gave her my address, which I may come to regret. Although I couldn’t promise I was okay, I could promise to call her if I feel as bad as I did Monday night. I hate the idea of bothering her. I message her on Facebook all the time, but that seems less intrusive. It is easy to ignore a Facebook message, but a phone call cuts into your day when it rings. Despite that uneasiness, I will keep that promise. Well, I might not call just because I feel suicidal, but I will call before taking pills or hanging a noose. I feel extremely guilty for many things, some are legitimately my fault, many are not my fault. However, in this case, the guilt helps. I know if I don’t call and attempt or complete suicide, she will always blame herself on some level. The idea of doing that to her is too aversive to me. Therefore, I’ll call her.
A few weeks ago, she said she noticed I was quiet in meetings. It was really sweet; she said she still wants to hear my ideas and the things I notice because it is nice to know. Haha, she didn’t disagree when I compared myself to a specific, extremely dysregulated and impulsive, student.
Ginny suggested I come up with things to keep me busy and coping skills. I’ll try. She regrets that I let my parents talk me out of partial hospitalization treatment in June. I do too. It probably would’ve made a difference. However, I’m not sick enough, with my eating disorder, to go to a higher level of care.
Anyway now I have to clean.