Suicide Barriers

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I just finished my thesis. submitted, accepted, done. i thought i would feel more relieved. i feel exactly the same.

I’ve been weird states lately. A lot of up and down and back and forth, I suppose. My sleep schedule is reversed, which isnt helping. I don’t go outside and I dont really see the sun.

My mom and I went to the hanson concert on Thursday. It really deserves it’s own post and I wish I had written more about it already. I loved hanson growing up. I loved them with every fiber of my being; my room was a shrine, I still know every actual word in mmmbop, you know, the usually preteen fangirldom. And for me, my preteen years were.. shall we say… rough. Hanson was like my little piece of calm. They never came here when I was little. I generally grew out of my fangirlness and became a functioning (ha.) adult since, but I still like their music and listen to it regularly. So it was nice, when way back in July, way back at the beginning of all the awful, my mother announced she was buying us tickets to the hanson concert so I could fulfill all my childhood dreams. and I did. I even bought a tshirt. and stickers. and screamed. We went to the stubborn goat before hand, i sang along to where’s the love and my mother danced through get the girl back. it was everything the night was supposed to be.
It was my moment of calm.

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I haven’t been doing well lately. I think this is probably an understatement if we view this as a period of months instead of days or hours. But there was a general upward trend for awhile that stalled, and now is slipping backwards. I don’t want to tell anyone because they’re all so hopeful for my recovery.

I did complete my thesis. I’ve written all the essays for adolescent development, though admittedly they are not my best work. they’re done. one more social psych exam in december. I thought this would bring relief? like I would experience less stress. feel less tight; more together. But I don’t. I feel the scary sort of calm. The calm where at 4 am, when I realized it was complete, I just felt like I had closure enough to die now. Like I couldn’t have died without finishing that, but it was ok now. This terrifies me.

I don’t sleep at night, like I said. It’s hard because then theres no people to distract me from all the horridness that collects at the back of my mind at 5 am. It’s lead to a lot of misc giving out my phone number to men on okcupid. I think I give people false hope. Like theres this normalcy of casual flirting, and I get that, but I don’t want it. Even the suggestion of people touching me makes me anxious enough to want to stop the conversation. I spent last night plotting ways to get hospitalized. How horrible is that? I can’t decide if it’s worse that I want to be hospitalized so badly, or that I could have been so close to death and have been ignored. I feel like I can get myself hospitalized now because I’ve learned the answers to the questions. I also learned not to go with family or friends. I learned that if my therapist wants to get me hospitalized I should let him call the cops. I learned that if your friends are going to stop you, they should wait until your half way through or they will send you home.

Theres all this focus on MY coping skills and MY abilities and MY support system at the hospital. I don’t understand. They can send me home because I have friends, I have parents who care. I have friends and parents who care and have recognized that what I need is beyond what they can offer. and yet this is never taken into consideration. Their needs, their coping skills, their support systems. It’s painful. I am going to cause them pain.

I’m nowhere near as bad as I was– I don’t think I actively want to die. In fact when I contemplate downing a bottle of tylonal now I’m almost certain I would call 911 before I actually died; especially given how ineffective it is. I’d probably throw half of them up before I could consume a lethal amount. But I do spend most of my nights thinking about walking to the bridge. About seeing if I could actually climb the suicide barriers; about how easy it would be to just walk along the road on the opposite side of the bridge at 4 am. Theres got to be a way to dive off that thing. Like the ER doctor said, if you really want to kill yourself, you find a way.

The hospital can’t stop me, if I were really sick, I’d find a way.

My brother is coming home for Christmas. This gets me through a lot of shitty times right now. I really, really, really want to make it to that. At worst, I placate myself with the idea of killing myself on Jan. 2. How perverse.

I have been writing all this shit about adolescence and developmental stages and I’ve realized I’m really not making it through this whole “intimacy vs isolation” stage of psychosocial development. I really want human contact, to connect with someone, to be able to feel something. But I can’t quite… manage it. And in actuality, when it happens, I hate it. I hate it so much. But life feels so meaningless now, with out school, or work, or intimacy. I guess maybe I should embrace that as freeing? Nothing to hold me anywhere, nothing to worry about.


(Use Me Up – Hanson)

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