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.