Posted in mental health, recovery

Living Suicidal [National Suicide Prevention Day 2018]


Today is National Suicide Prevention Day, a day that’s very important to me. In fact, suicide prevention in general is very important to me. (I mean, obviously it should be important to everyone…)

I’ve talked very openly about my experience in the past on this blog and the day I came home from treatment after my suicide attempt, I swore I’d never keep my mouth shut about it. Despite what other people wanted me to do. Some people get embarrassed or uncomfortable when I talk so openly about my past struggle, and they get even more uncomfortable when I talk even more openly about my current struggles.

You see, my struggle with suicide didn’t end at seventeen. No, that struggle has been going on for fifteen years. Have I actively tried to kill myself all fifteen of those years? No, of course not. But I have spent a lot of those years actively struggling with the thoughts. This is why I am an advocate for getting properly medicated. I spent so many of those years not medicated. And then once I was medicated, I was wrongly medicated. And I was wrongly medicated because I refused to accept the diagnosis of bipolar disorder. Because even though I was open and willing to talk about my struggles, I still allowed the world to make me feel like certain diagnosis would make me “untouchable” and “undesirable”. I was ashamed to be called bipolar.

When heavily medicated I still couldn’t understand why I would still be daydreaming about ending my life. When viral articles would go around of celebrities ending theirs, I would become obsessed and scour the internet trying to find out the way they did it, why… and it would put me into a deeper depression. And then I would make myself feel even worse for being so “broken”. I would tell myself I am worthless and useless. That I’m wasting everyone’s time. And honestly, I know this can be hard to hear, I’d be jealous.

And then I would tell others that they are brave for getting properly medicated. I would tell them they are strong and powerful and worthy of such a wonderful life. It was true. So true. Yet I couldn’t believe it in myself. I was just broken and I was never going to be okay. And I was doing something wrong. I was screwing up. I wasn’t taking the meds right… I was just a failure.

But instead I was just the way I am. This is the way my brain is. I can’t help it. I am just being me. There was nothing I was doing wrong. Nothing I could help other than just trying to do the best I can and keep trying to live and figure out how to live better as the days go on.

So I fought. I fought and I kept fighting for my life. And I realized that I should take my own advice and get properly diagnosed and be properly medicated for a disorder I was ashamed of when I shouldn’t have been.

Does that mean I’m no longer suicidal? No. Not at all. Because without these medications, I can guarantee you that things won’t be okay right now. How do I know? Because I’ve tried it. I tried it against all better judgement. And I had an angel of a friend tell me to stop being an ass [sorry parents] and get back on my medication. So I did.

The point of this blog today was to tell you that living suicidal is an every day fight. That even with proper medication I still have fleeting thoughts, that thankfully now go away a lot faster than they ever have before. But I still have to make myself take my medications. I still have to fight for my life (so to say).

And so you should fight for your life too. Keep fighting. Stay for another tomorrow. You can do this. You can. I have. You might feel like no one wants you here for tomorrow. Trust me, I’ve felt that. It isn’t true. I want you here. Even if I’ve never met you before, I want you here. Send me a message. Let’s talk. Stay. Just stay for tomorrow. Tomorrow Needs You.

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