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.
FULL DISCLAIMER: I AM SEEING MY THERAPIST TOMORROW AND I LEFT A MESSAGE FOR MY PSYCHIATRIST.
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.