Note: This is a repost from my old blog. It was one of the ones I wanted to copy over eventually, however with recent events/discussions, it seemed appropriate to bring over here sooner rather than later.
I have not read any of Mr. Vizzini’s work, however hearing a man just a year older than me has lost his life to suicide is quite sad. Especially reading his words here which will ring true to anyone who has dealt with depression or other mental illnesses/mood disorders. And there’s been some chatter, again, about snap judgments and douchebaggy comments surrounding self-harm.
It is worth mentioning, again, that suicide is not selfish. It is not selfish to want the pain to stop. It does not make you a bad person. It is morally neutral. It is hard enough to seek help without people making you feel like shit for thoughts that are totally out of your control because your brain chemistry is fubar.
The holidays are a rough time and often triggering for people with mood disorders. The pressure of family or the reminder of being alone, remembering loved ones we’ve lost, being broke around a time you’re “supposed to” be spending money–all of these things can nudge us into depressive episodes. So I’m reposting this entry again here because whoever you are out there, I want you to remember you are not alone. You are not a bad person for having these thoughts. And I want you to know I got through it–I still have held on despite all the bumps in the road lately–and you can too.
I manually copied over the comments from the old entry as well because there were a lot of them, all those voices are valuable, and I think it’s worth seeing, again, YOU ARE NOT ALONE. Countless people have been there and survived.
The battle is never over but you are worth fighting for.
August 8, 2013
Warning: This is long, and this is personal, and I will be very protective over the comments section so don’t be a douche. This speaks to my experience, which might be different from yours. Both are valid. It also might be triggering. I’ll try not to get blood on the carpet.
You ever see that movie Sliding Doors? One slight change and there are two diverging paths, taking the same woman on two very different journeys. I actually see, crystal clear, several such paths and swear I could feel the precise moment when I felt the tug of another path I didn’t take.
Relatively recently, in one of those timelines…I’m not here.
To back up a little…why am I blogging about this? I struggled for several days with even considering writing this. As open as I try to be, I also feel most things aren’t anyone’s business. If I am truly having an episode, I will disappear from online because I don’t like whining and have no desire to solicit pity. I’m an adult and my disorder/problems are not an excuse to act like a douchebag in public. I try to wear my big girl panties, else The Gothic Goddess will stab me with knitting needles.
But taking time to deal with an episode is different from looking back at one and gaining insight. I’m more removed from this situation now and hope it will be of some value to others. There is too much stigma, too much misinformation, and too much willingness to not talk about these things. Inspired lately by a few writers who have come out about their struggles, I thought I might have something to add.
The first thing you need to know about me is that I’m bipolar. Looking back at my childhood, I was often irritable, occasionally volatile, and had episodes of blackout rage. Though initially I passed a lot of this off as a result of witnessing the violence I did in when I was little, it was likely genetic and early onset bipolar (granted, the violence and trauma could’ve been a trigger). I had a breakdown when I was in middle school, saw a counselor, and it was as I was going through puberty that those earlier behaviors manifested into the common bipolar symptoms you see in teens and adults. Along with it came anxiety around a whole host of things.
I was thirteen when suicidal thoughts became part of my day-to-day life.
This has never seemed particularly traumatizing or scary to me. The thoughts were just…there. Like you would ponder what to have for dinner, when I was in an episode—not realizing, as a barely-formed teen, that it was an episode and not “normal”—the thought of stopping the constant soul-deep ache was just common occurrence. “I’m hungry; I should get a pizza” wasn’t all that different from “I can’t stop crying; I should die.”
Mine is a disorder with an 85% survival rate; that means a good chunk of people will kill themselves from it. So none of this should be surprising. My version of normal is a little off-kilter.
I’m now nearly thirty-one. Over the years, I’ve gone from the general thoughts to points where I have actively made plans, and on a couple of occasions procured means, and even set times. I can’t particularly explain what ever actually stopped me. Once, this saved my life, and if you suffer from depression, it is worth bookmarking or printing out.
Last year, however, I very specifically felt that tug of two diverging paths. A handful of people know I hit a really rough patch last summer. I was mentally and emotionally a wreck, I had someone in my life who was not healthy for me to be around, and the pressure sent me right to my breaking point. I was at a lake, out in the water by myself, and it was my last day of a very brief vacation—I had to go home in a few hours.
And the most seemingly logical thought came to me: why didn’t I just try to swim to the middle of the lake?
Because I couldn’t do it, you see. I’m not that strong of a swimmer. I knew that if I tried to swim out there, I’d drown. Even if I turned back, I wouldn’t make it in time.
I treaded water, contemplating this for twenty to thirty minutes, little by little creeping farther in the water, my gaze locked on the shoreline well across the lake, which I knew I’d never reach.
I know how this sounds now, and if you’ve never had a depressive episode, consider yourself lucky. If you have had one, you probably understand why this seemed like a rational thought while I was IN the episode. All I can tell you is that it made the best possible SENSE. I’d stop hurting. I’d stop feeling hopeless. The pressure I was under would be gone. It would solve all my problems. BOOM. Solution!
I can tell you what saved me this time, and it was a tiny voice threading through my brain that said: “No. Stop.”
This voice exists because I planted it there, trained it, and cultivated it. I have spent years on cognitive therapy , training my brain to counter both depressive and manic thoughts; I can’t control when I get an episode, but I can affect how long I’m in one.
It was a war, of course, because depression lies. It distorts your thoughts, it blinds you, and it makes you not yourself.
But the voice kept repeating: “No. This is fucked up. You have been through this. It will pass. Get out of the water because you can’t trust yourself right now.”
It was that reminder that I knew these feelings, that I’d been there before, and that I’d gotten better—that got me out of the water. I gathered my things and stayed the hell away from the lake for the rest of my time there.
That was just over a year ago and this is my point today: I am FUCKING GLAD I am here.
I look at people I’ve met and gotten to know in the past year—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, doesn’t know those people. Because she’s dead.
I look at what I’ve written and the worlds I’ve gotten to create—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, didn’t get to write those things. Because she’s dead.
I look at my cats and my dog and even my rabbit, all healthy and happy—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, can’t care for them. Because she’s dead.
I look at the things I was able to do for charity so far this year, the money I was able to raise—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, didn’t get to do that. Because she’s dead.
I look at the bloodstain on the carpet downstairs where my neighbour fell, when I was the only one who didn’t panic and got him help—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, couldn’t help him. Because she’s dead.
I look at all of the plans I’ve been able to make, the way my life is moving toward important goals I have—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, has no excitement for the future. Because she’s dead.
I wake up feeling really good these days, fit and healthy, able to get out of bed—Other!Skyla, the one in the water, can’t feel relief or contentedness or joy.
Because she’s dead.
Those of you dealing with mood disorders and mental illness: you are not selfish for wanting the pain to be over and I will punch anyone who says otherwise to you. It’s not selfishness—if anything, it’s selfish of others to expect you to silently endure just for the sake of their feelings, for using your guilt when you’re already at a low point to stigmatize you. Further, YMMV but in my experience you cannot hang on for the sake of other people for long–you have to do it for you.
It’s also not weakness. Your pain exceeds your resources for coping with pain. There is nothing morally wrong with that. It is not a moral failing. Hey, yeah, you might have lots of other moral failings–I do–but these feelings and these thoughts are not among them.
The stigma other people place on depression and suicide is not a reason to forgo getting help. I don’t want to repeat the cliché of “it gets better” because when you’re in your black moment, that seems impossible. And for all I know, maybe it is. Maybe it won’t get better, maybe it will always suck. I don’t know you and I don’t know the future.
I know, however, the only chance of getting better lies in making it through.
It probably will get better, then it will get worse, then better again, because that’s how life goes. Being dead isn’t going to make it better: you’re dead, you can’t feel relief. You’re over. You will have no chance to meet new amazing people who will make you a better person; you will have no chance to make plans and eat ice cream and laugh and cuddle with your dog.
You will not have a chance to look back over your life and think, “Wow, I am so glad I’m still here and get to experience these things.” And I so, so sincerely want that for you.
And I’ll tell you something else: when you have been in pure darkness, coming out of it again the light is so fucking bright. If you can feel extreme pain, or hopelessness, or nothingness, coming out the other side of it can mean the most intense joy, palpable gratitude to be here and breathe and experience things.
I don’t care how you choose to help yourself; it’s none of my business. You need resources to cope with pain: find what works, stock your armory, and fight back. Therapy, meds, interpretative dance, diet, meditation, sacrificing virgins at midnight. Just remember, this doesn’t make you a bad person. Depression and suicidal thoughts are morally neutral things: it’s your body’s chemistry being all fucked up and messing up your thoughts and feelings. Is there still stigma? Yes.
And fuck that stigma. Fuck the judgment. Your life is more important than what other people think of you–your life is more important than what other people think of me; sharing this in case it helps someone is worth the risk, to me, of alienating others or making them uncomfortable. It’s one thing to hear that others get through it and survive–“other people” is vague, anonymous…which is why I’m telling you I got through it and survived.
Two roads diverged in a wood…
And I am really glad I’m on the path that’s still here.
(I opted for this song as it very much describes how I feel about my mood disorder–it’s uplifting to me, acknowledging one’s demons and living anyway. YMMV.)
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#1 It was haunted Timmy…
August 8, 2013 by Adrienne
I’m glad you’re still here! You’ve kept my sloppy head above water enough times, I hate to think of you sinking. I know that pit, and the extremity you refer to in coming out the other side. Now we all need a good positive year with no sadness or dropping of anvils on our heads. XO
#2 There is some comfort for me
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
There is some comfort for me in having the experience be common enough in my life that, when I’m having a bad period, I can at least recognize it as “normal” and temporary. I can take just about anything if I know it’s temporary. If the universe wants to kick me (or you, or ANYONE I like), I will kick the fucker right back.
And seriously, SO BRIGHT. I am so grateful I was around this past year, I can’t even find words for it (I, obviously, tried above, but they seem insufficient). And the change of diet, exercise, and vitamins is helping me immensely.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#3 I am also glad you’re still
August 8, 2013 by Jes (not verified)
I am also glad you’re still here.
#4 Thank you. <3
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
Thank you. <3
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#5 I am glad you chose the path
August 8, 2013 by Andrew Patterson (not verified)
I am glad you chose the path you did too. A year ago, I didn’t know you. I’ve suffered from depression for years. Luckily, mine isn’t as strong as what you deal with. I’ve had a few moments where I wanted it to end, and I wasn’t sure living was the option. I’m glad I chose the path I did, because I wouldn’t have met you.
*hugs and love*
#6 It took a really long time
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
It took a really long time for me to be glad to be here, and that’s a whole other blog post but it required a lot of work to be the kind of person I felt was worth saving. But I’m here right now and happy that I’ve reached this point I don’t think I’m all bad, even if it’s a neverending climb.
I’m glad you’re here too. *hugs*
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#7 Love you, and eternally
August 8, 2013 by Danni (not verified)
Love you, and eternally grateful that Other!Skyla lost that battle at the lake. You are one of the brightest lights and most wonderful friend in my life and my daughters and we wish to have you with us until we shuffle of this mortal coil, then catch up again in the afterlife so we can cause havoc and mayhem there too.
If Other!Skyla had won we would never have been blessed to know you and our lives would have been duller for that. Always remember that when you are in that pit of darkness, we will be waiting at the top with a torch, our hands held out, ready to help pull you out and rope, cable ties and duct tape to help tie Other!Skyla up and shove her back in the cupboard if that’s what you need.
So proud of you for how hard you fight against this illness and how far you have come. You are so much stronger than you even realise. Just the fact that you wrote about your battles in the hope of helping others proves this.
And remember, if you hadn’t been here this last year, I would never have gotten my Cuntania t-shirt, because it is only your brilliance and chutzpah that would ever dream to create my favourite quote and put it on clothing.
#8 Oh honey, and it was YOU I
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
Oh honey, and it was YOU I got connecting with around that time last year, so I was thinking I am just so, so happy I am here and I know you and my Aussie adopted fam. You make me a better person and the light so much brighter. <3
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#9 I love this post. Your
August 8, 2013 by sj (not verified)
I love this post. Your strength and honesty is beautiful. <3
#10 Thank you. I fretted, a whole
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
Thank you. I fretted, a whole lot. I'm still fretting. I will probably wake up tomorrow and think "Oh god, I can't believe I said that."
*hugs*
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#11 Skyla, This took courage to
August 8, 2013 by Kim Baccellia (not verified)
Skyla,
This took courage to write. I grew up with a bipolar father who was totally effed up and very violent. He’d often go into his bedroom, whenever he was very depressed, and play Russian Roulette with his gun. Even to this day I can still hear those clicks. I carry the bipolar gene. All the males in my family are either bipolar or have some form of the illness.
The pain bipolar individuals feel is something that my older brother told me is so dark and damning.
Cyber hugs. I’m glad you’re still here. I can’t say I totally understand the pain you’ve gone through though I’ve been very suicidal myself when I was a teen and YA. That dark place is somewhere I wouldn’t wish on my worse enemy.
And totally eff the stigma and those who tell you to ‘just get over it’. As if.
My thoughts are with you. I think you’re courageous, strong, and amazingly talented.
Just wanted you to know that I do care.
Kim
#12 Thanks, hunny. You know my
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
Thanks, hunny.
You know my opinion on that, too, which is no fucking excuse. None. Everyone has issues–every single person on the planet. It is no excuse to act like a douchebag when you’re a grown adult, especially when you have kids. I am so sorry you went through that with your father. I want kids badly and I’m determined that I will never put them through crap because my brain gets a little messed up now and again. It’s a lot of work to cope and stay sane but absolutely worth it–the alternative just makes me shudder.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#13 I get by with a little help…
August 8, 2013 by Wendy Sparrow (not verified)
Thanks for being still here and reading my post on cutting and linking to it, but most of all thanks for being you and sharing what is probably just what someone needs right now. I wish there were blogs out there explaining what I was going through when I was at my worst in my early twenties. I think the most destructive aspect of my OCD was that I didn’t realize it was OCD and know all the symptoms or know any way to control them. I think the scariest thing for me was not seeing a way out of the madness and being worried I was what my head was telling me I was.
I’m so glad you’d worked on putting that voice in your head–the right voice. I think in those desperate moments when things go black–you have to have something like that and I think if more people talk about mental illness…it’ll help put it there for more people.
I get by with a little help from my friends and I’m glad you’re one of my Twitter friends. Thanks for sharing…because I know my heart stopped for a few moments after I posted mine.
#14 I know exactly what you
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
I know exactly what you mean–I was twenty-four, nearly twenty-five, before I had any idea really what bipolar was and that it applied to me. I had figured out my “normal” wasn’t everyone else’s normal, and the depression I knew, but I got reading and I realized “OMG MANIA! THAT’s A THING! I HAVE THAT!” It was both terrifying and reassuring. Just having a name for it helped immensely–I started tracking my moods, understood how the cycles worked, and could better able monitor myself and know what was happening to me.
And my pocketbook is very, very glad of this as now I don’t spend huge chunks of money when manic–I hide my wallet. 😉
I still meet people who talk like a bipolar diagnosis is the end of the world, but all these things–bipolar, chronic depression, OCD, schizophrenia, anxiety–they’re things a lot of people have and cope with successfully. The only way more people will get help is if we shift our thinking about mental illness and understand it’s not much more different from other illnesses. It still needs to be treated in some form and it doesn’t make you a bad person for having it.
Seriously, I had this post in my head for a few days, eventually wrote it, ran it past a friend, slept on it, and thought I was going to vomit when I hit “publish”. I can imagine how nervous you were as well. Little by little, hopefully these confessions will help people out there struggling.
*hugs*
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#15 Brave
August 8, 2013 by Angela (not verified)
Your bravery on this subject never ceases to amaze and humble me. I know how hard it was to publish this. I’ve never been able to hit the publish button when I write posts about my depression. This was wonderfully written, brutally honest, and achingly familiar – not to the extremes of your experience, but nonetheless touching. Thanks, Skyla. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve known.
Also, Damaged was fucking brilliant.
#16 Thank you, Angela–I’ve tried
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
Thank you, Angela–I’ve tried to be very open about bipolar and depression, but this was always the one subject I didn’t want to broach beyond getting really vague. I know the looks on people’s faces when one alludes to having these thoughts–I know the judgement, the negative reactions. I’ve been silenced by them and that silence has never helped me. It never helps anybody. In fact, it kills.
And we can’t ignore the self-harm aspect. 85% survival rate–there are types of cancer with better rates than that, and with this disorder it all comes down to people taking their own lives. That can be prevented but it won’t happen until we stop pretending shaming and judging and stigmatizing.
This is probably the first year I can recall, though, being really, really happy to be here. A lot of it had to come from making myself into someone I liked, someone I thought was worth saving, but I am so grateful now that I made it over the hurdles. I know there are more to come, that it’ll always be something I fight with, but I trust myself more and more to successfully cope.
Thank you so much for reading Damaged and I’m glad you enjoyed it. I kind of want to tack on my wall the moment at the end when Nic asks Zara if she’s okay and she says “Nope. But I’m Zara-fucking-Lain and I will be.” THAT is what I try to remind myself when I’m not okay.
I will be.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#18 The Moment in the Water
August 8, 2013 by Shai (not verified)
That’s where I started crying. Because I remember my moment in the water. I was driving home, I think from work. And I thought about driving to a near by trail head, and just walking away from everything. When I kept thinking of things I didn’t have that I’d need for the trail, I realized that I did want to survive this pain.
So, I’m still here.
#19 *hugs* I am so glad you’re
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
*hugs* I am so glad you’re still here and that you survived. You’re a wonderful person and one day you’re going to be a wonderful mum with wonderfully evil children my yet-to-be-conceived offspring can play with.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#20 I love you.
August 8, 2013 by Seleste fucking deLaney (not verified)
(I can’t remember my login and it wouldn’t let me sign in as me so…yeah.)
I didn’t read this the other day because I’ve been a little broken of late, and I was quite frankly afraid to. I was at the point where I was afraid One. More. Thing. would push me over the edge.
I don’t know if I’m better today or just more masochistic, but I’m glad I read it. Sometimes just knowing you aren’t alone in this fucked up shit is enough. Thank you for being my enough today.
Also, if you weren’t around, who the hell would celebrate Remy with me? *giant hugs…and booze…lots of booze*
#21 I worried a lot about it
August 8, 2013 by Skyla
I worried a lot about it being triggering for people (actually, I mostly worried all of my friends would get weird and stop speaking to me–discussing self-harm can do that), but I tried to make it as positive and helpful as I honestly could. If I, while at the end of my rope without medication or any form of help, can find my way through it and be glad I did, other people can too. There is no shame in feeling this way or having these thoughts, and we can better seek help when we realize that.
All the hugs to you, and you know if you’re having a depressive episode and you need to talk to someone about stuff, you have my email. No judgement, ever, about anything–I’m happy to listen. *shares vodka and love*
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#22 I don’t have first-hand
August 8, 2013 by David Jón Fuller (not verified)
I don’t have first-hand experience with bipolar disorder”, but I have grappled with depression in the past–and man do I ever understand why Churchill called it the “black dog.” Like the others here I want to echo that I too am glad you chose the path that means you are still here! And thank you for sharing and articulating this — it can be so hard to write about, but I think posts like yours go a long way to helping people understand a) they are not alone and b) it’s more than just “feeling down.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#23 *hugs*
August 8, 2013 by Jasmine S. (not verified)
Thank you so much for posting this. Much love & many hugs.
Skyla Dawn says
Comment on Original Post:
#24 Thank you
August 8, 2013 by Annie (not verified)
Thank you for posting this. I first attempted suicide when I was 11 years old. I also have bipolar, only mine expresses itself more like schizophrenia. It can be very hard to deal with mental illness…and harder to explain it to those who have no sense of it. I envy people who aren’t mentally ill…but more than anything I just wish I could make them understand what it’s like… The constant struggle…
I think personal testimonies like yours is important for increasing understanding. I know it took a lot of bravery for you to write and post this. Thank you. I know you will touch people with this post and you will make a difference. Good for you.
Kinki says
THANK YOU for writing this!! I’ve been bipolar my whole life and was always encouraged to hide it. I’m approaching 40 and just now starting to seek the help I need. I’m not sure how I’m still here, but it’s comforting to read how others have fought this illness. I also get angry when “sane” people make negative comments about someone who has committed suicide. I hope to be able to own this illness going forward and share some of my experiences with others to open their minds about what is truly going on inside our heads and hopefully inspire some compassion. You’re making a difference, so glad you got out of the water!! *Hugs*