I keep a journal that I manually write with as it helps me pass the time in the day and it helps me get my thoughts out better than typing. I was home the other day and things got so bad I had to call my doctor for help and he suggested I go to the emergency room so I spent a few days in the hospital while they adjusted my medication, but this is what my journal looked like leading up to that phone call. I was trying everything I could to clear my mind but this is how it looked:
I just want to die. I just want to take all the pills I have in this house and go silently in to the night. What if it doesn’t work like the last time? I think I’ve stock piled enough that it should work. I could get drunk enough and mix enough that it should work, but what if it doesn’t and leaves me paralyzed or something worse. It feels weird to be writing this all out. It feels weird to acknowledge that I’m having these thoughts. I’m in a really dark place. Even when I tried to kill myself before I didn’t have this many thoughts to do it. I just made the choice and did it. Why am I stopping myself this time? What would it do to the kids? How would it damage them for years to come? It might send my daughter over the edge to drinking or what if it caused her to think about suicide? I hope she never has days like I’m having. I just need some help but I’m too afraid of losing my job. That fear is too big to tackle to go to treatment and treatment sounds like a lot of work and I don’t want to do the work because it’s so much work that needs to be done. I don’t feel like I’m worth that much work. I just don’t. I’m an awful parent, I’m an awful employee, I’m an awful gilfriend. I’m just not good at anything I do. I feel worthless. Like everyone would be better off without me. I feel as if I’m a burden to everyone. It would hurt the kids so much. It would tear my boyfriend apart. It would taunt my mother forever. My friend would be sad. I just don’t want to deal with this anymore. I just can’t be inside my own head anymore. It’s just not pleasant living in my head. I think that a suicide letter would explain it better to everyone. Then they’d understand what a day in the life of my brain is like. This is not a way to live. Nobody should be expected to live this way. How awful for my boyfriend to have to find me. I don’t want to tell him how I’m feeling as he’ll make me go get some help.
And then I called for some help. I don’t know what made me pick up the phone to dial for help instead of my keys to go to the bar, I figure it was a power greater than myself, but I went and got some help. I’ve been out for 5 days now and I’m slowly starting to feel better. They did a major overhaul on my medication and I’m now:
Vyvanse: Discontinued (believed to have been the cause of my manic bi-polar episode)
Lithium: 600 mg new to help with the bi-polar mania
Pristiq: 100 mg same
Abilify: 15 mg new to help with the depression
Gabapentin: 900 mg increased
Hydroxyzine: 25 mg new to help me sleep
Lorazepam: 1.5 mg for 14 days, then 1 mg for 14 days to gradually go off
Today is the first day that I was able to crack a smile and I caught myself singing along with a song in my car. It’s the little wins that I will take at this point.