Monday, September 22, 2014
I am experiencing a major setback today. I have been feeling down for the last few days and have not been able to shake it off. I have always had dark thoughts running through the back of my mind as long as I can remember. I usually have the ability pull myself out of these dark places, but not today. It pains me to admit this to the world, but I feel the need to be honest. Bipolar disorder is serious business. Although our blog posts are positive most of the time, there are times when the ugly parts of it have to be highlighted.
Right now, I am suicidal. My husband stayed home from work today to keep an eye on me. Like I said previously, in the past I have been able to push these thoughts away. I'd think, "Where did that crazy thought come from?" I would talk some sense into myself and move on like nothing had happened. This time it is different. I actually planned my demise in precise detail. Not good. With the exception of my teenage years, I haven't done that before.
Before I admitted to my husband that I was having suicidal thoughts, I asked him to lock up my meds before he left for work. Overdose. I was going to wait until all the kids where off to school. He was going to leave for work but I told him that I needed him to stay home with me today. I needed someone to keep me from doing something that I know is irrational.
I have been irritable, moody, and all I have wanted to do for the past few weeks is sleep all day. My children started school earlier this month. I graduated with an associate degree from my local community college in the spring. I have alone time. No kids running around the house. No more tight schedules of homework, studying, projects, and exams in college. Now I have too much time to think. Without those distractions, I have more time to hear the voices of the ugly monsters inside me. I try not to listen to what they say. It is hard.
My husband called my doctors' office. I have not done anything to myself yet. I don't think I need someone to bring me to the emergency room. Until the office calls back after talking with my psychiatrist and psychologist, I am just waiting. As of now, I am concentrating on life one minute at a time. I am breathing trying to stay calm and hold back my tears. I am fighting the urge to have a mental breakdown.
I believe that many people with depression suffer in silence. That makes it difficult for the outside world to find the answers as to why someone would choose to end their life. They may feel that they never saw the signs; to them, it may appear as if the individual committed suicide for no apparent reason. I don't know what is wrong with me...I just know that there is something wrong and I have to do something about it.
One in five people with bipolar disorder commit suicide. I need to take my feelings seriously. I do not want to be a statistic.