In all honesty.

I made a few stupid decisions last night.

There is a reason why I haven’t really shared the gory suicidal thoughts that come out of the darkest corners of my head. Part of me wants to get it all out. Every single bloody detail. But I have been tiptoeing around it because while I do have periods where it’s all I think about, for the most part I feel like I have it under control. But, I have been in that place where you are teetering on the edge and the smallest thing could fling you over it. I was in that place for a long time, actually. And if you’ve read from the beginning, you know that I did try to kill myself a few years ago. I think it is a safe assumption that most of the people that read my writing have been on that ledge at some point. I don’t want to be the catalyst for that fling. Not because I’m spewing pro-suicide propaganda, or encouraging it. But, because I know what it’s like to read something that resonates so deeply that it causes a loss of hope. A realization that it’ll never go away. I don’t want to deliver words that could end a fight.

The past 2 weeks or so I have been going through random suicidal swings. I just turn off, and it’s all I can think about. And I can’t back away from it. I reached out last night and I was ignored. Maybe not “intentionally,” but I was. I  feel a storm brewing inside me, just waiting to rage. Half of me is numb, and the other half is ready to let go. I’m in denial and agony all at once.


I got drunk in my room last night and I cut myself. Soooo there’s that. Other than trying to reach out for support, and probably appearing slightly intoxicated, I haven’t told anyone. It’s all bottled up and highly pressurized inside me. When that numb feeling takes over, I become preoccupied with the idea of pain. I can’t feel emotional pain or otherwise. I think about cutting myself from time, mostly out of frustration. No it doesn’t makes sense, and yes it is dumb. I did this a few times in high school, minus the alcohol. Everything builds up, and cutting is a physical way to release some of the pressure.

In no way do I think what I did was okay, and in no way do I think it is an answer to any problem. All I can say is DON’T DO IT. I can’t even explain how disappointed I am in myself or how angry and full of regret I am. I am not at all excusing my actions, but it was on my upper thigh, and it’s not bad. It bled a lot, and there are multiple, but they’re not deep. I think I learned my lesson.

I’m sorry to myself, and everyone else for what I did. I’m sorry to people I don’t even know, that’s where I’m at about it.

But, I am being responsible and taking the initiative to nip this in the bud. Like I said, I have a therapy appointment tomorrow, and my psychiatrist should be calling me back in the morning. The only way to keep bipolar from eating you alive is to be proactive.


2 thoughts on “In all honesty.

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