*Trigger Warning Alert* This post may be depressing and distubing to some people, as it is related to my suicidal depression and suicidal ideations last night and I speak very openly, honestly and candidly about my thoughts.
Welcome back my old companion depression. Unfortunately, you have returned. I was praying I would never feel your pain or see or hear from you again. That was rather foolish of me, as I know the true nature of my illness of bipolar 1 disorder with rapid cycling and mixed episodes, combined with PTSD.
Depression, you returned yesterday unexpectedly and without notice. You were uninvited and are not welcome inside my brain and body, but you came back anyway, never taking the hint or listening to me. I never wanted you to come back into my life again. But, here you are, overstaying your welcome, like usual. Even one second with you, and the debilitating pain, sorrow, despair, destruction and morbid thoughts you cause, is too much.
It has been a long time since I have been depressed again. Even though, I try to be realistic, I was hoping that it would never come back. A girl can always dream and I was hoping for the best and being optimistic in my quest on my journey of my life living with bipolar disorder.
The chemicals inside my bipolar brain did not harmonize in a positive way last night. After a PTSD related trigger yesterday, my depression came back quite abruptly and with a vengeance. Quickly, my depression turned into a severe suicidal depression where constant thoughts of death and dying overtook my brain. So, in my room I hid, door closed, laying in my bed, covers wrapped around me not wanting to and unable to move.
The bleak reality of what my life is truly like overtook my thoughts, no more hiding behind hopeful optimism that my life is good and that it will get better. The reality of the honest facts of my life hit hard. I have no friends, not one. I have no support whatsoever from my family. I have no psychiatrist, as my life savior of a psychiatrist had to retire due to his own illness. There are no more medications that I can take to treat my bipolar and I will never try another medication again, as they all made me become too ill from severe side effects and adverse reactions. I will never enter the hospital again, as I lived that life too long. That cycle just continues to repeat itself and I am too tired to continue that type of circle of mental illness life again.
I have been praying that I would be able to publish a couple of books. That is my dream, but the reality of that dream coming true hit home last night. It most likely won’t happen and have only been dreaming. My dreaming has kept me alive and gave me hope, but all my hope of anything good happening in my life disappeared last night.
When my depression hits, reality and my negativity hits me hard. I see no future or a life worth living or fighting for. My life is too painful and lonely. I have nothing. My life seems pointless. I cannot stand the loneliness I face everyday.
I want to die. Death is the only thing that gives me hope. Death by suicide is my way out of the agony I live in. I am not alive. I am existing and right now I am barely existing. This is not a life or what living is supposed to be. My life ended twenty-five years ago and I have been fighting to live ever since, but I do not feel like the fight is worth it anymore.
It is kind of like, it is time to say enough of the chemo. I had enough. Nothing is working. Stage 4 bipolar disorder is here knocking at my door. How can I continue to pretend to be alive when I am already dead? I have fought this fight for too long.
I know one day I will lose my battle between life and death. It is inevitable. Last night I was going to take all my pills. The only reason I didn’t was that I did not want to kill myself in my own bed, in my own home because I would never want my children to find me there. I would go to a hotel room, but I did not have the energy or ability to get myself up to get to the hotel. I guess that is actually a blessing or I might not be alive today. That is how close to death I was and how dangerous my thoughts were last night. They seem to be getting worse and I seem to closer to my own demise with each new suicidal depression I have as the years of my life progress.
It is not pretty. It is not glamorous. It is awful, horrific and devastatingly painful. When I reach my suicidal depression, I am ready for death. I want to die. I really do. I am ready for it. It is right there at my finger tips. I taste it and see it and want it. I am ready. The only reason I do not and did not take my lethal dose of pills last night is because of my children. I think things like I have to wait until at least my sons wedding is over on September 8th of this year, because I could not kill myself right before his wedding. That would be so horrible for him. Also, I think and know I have to get my youngest daughter to graduate from High School and become an adult first. She is a senior this year and then I need to get her on to college. After that I will be free and can finally be free to let suicide be my choice.
My bipolar has been terminal for over twenty-five years and I have been fighting to stay alive for that many years. I am at the point that sometimes I do not know how much more of the battle I can continue to fight. One day death will win and I know that. I just do not know when. I have lived longer now than I ever thought I would.
The other thing that people do not understand is that sometimes when I hear that someone died by suicide, I feel like they were strong and brave enough to take that final step that. They made it. They took that extra step and leap that I have not been able to cross yet. I have not made it over the threshold of death yet. So, when I hear of someone who died by suicide I am greatly saddened because I know the severe pain they were living with for many years of their life and I hurt for them, feeling their pain. But, then sometimes I feel at least they no longer have to suffer or feel that horrific pain and sorrow anymore and that is a beautiful thing. With death the person that dies is at peace.
Suicide is tragic and it is sad that mental illness can kill, but so can cancer. I feel like bipolar is like cancer. I think my bipolar is sometimes in remission and just like cancer, my severe bipolar suicidal depression comes back and I have to fight to live again.
The only difference between mental illness and cancer is that I never get celebrated or treated like a hero. Instead, I am a loser and an outcast. No one ever talks about how strong I am to have fought my battle and how I have overcome many struggles, obstacles and death for over twenty-five years. I never get a casserole or hug or a pat on the back and no one even wants to be near me. People run away from me and the words of bipolar disorder, depression and suicide, which are all part of the daily illness I live with. No one cares. I do not talk to most people about my bipolar because of the ugly stigma and no one wants to hear about it. It makes them uncomfortable and scared or something. My illness is looked down on and so am I.
Right now my depression is here and it is ugly filling my heart with sadness and hate. My pain is great right now, so I keep writing hoping to distract my mind from the pain. I pray that soon the blessing that I have rapid cycling bipolar will show up and I will quickly return back to my fun-loving, fast talking, high-flying, over the top hypomanic self, the high mood pole I usual live with and exist at.
Where are you hypomania? Where did you go? I am waiting for your return, so I can pretend to be normal again and have positive optimistic high thoughts. I will happily welcome those kind of thoughts over my depression and especially my suicidal depression.
I know my writing has been very sad and morbid and I do greatly apologize for that. I am openly and honestly sharing the thoughts that plague my brain nonstop during a suicidal depression. I share openly and honestly to educate others, so people will begin to understand the severity of what bipolar, depression and suicidal depression is like.
Do not fear because I am fighting at this moment in time. That is all I know. I can only live one moment at a time because that is all I have. So, I know I am alive and living and fighting right now. My heart is beating. I am breathing and I am typing. So, I am alive.,
Prayerfully, the next time I type on my blog I will be back to my typical hypomanic overly optimistic high self. With my bipolar, you never know what you are going to get. How will my brain harmonize together tomorrow? What will the melody inside my brain be tomorrow or the next minute? What mood pole will I be at? Never a dull moment in my mind. I never know what the minute or day will bring. Tick, tock, time will soon tell me what my harmony will be. I hope and it will be a beautiful harmony of hope, optimism, resiliency, love and the joy of living.
Welcome back to my open and honest bipolar 1 diosrder world inside my mind and life.
“It’s so difficult to describe deperession to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness.” ~J.K. Rowling
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