Lumpy Throat

Today I did my makeup. I feel like I’m hitting my low point again but I feel it’s easier for the world to cope with a painted face and a fake smile instead of the truth. When my makeup is on nobody asks me if I’m OK and that’s how I want it to be. 

I’ve been walking around with this huge lump in my throat and if people could see how I feel inside I would collapse to the floor and break down in tears. 

This lump in my throat is so heavy and it’s taking every bit of strength I have not to cry. I can’t do anything about it but let it take its course. I’m not allowed to die because my kids and husband apparently need me. I’m already in therapy I’m already taking medications for depression, anxiety, and chronic pain. I don’t know what else to do. I’m sitting here suffering in silence trying not to mess up my makeup with pointless tears. 

Shit. The lump won. The floodgates have opened. 

Guided Meditation…

Yesterday my therapy appointment was a bit of a shit show. I spent most of the 45 minute time slot filling out paperwork so they can update their new system. 

When I finally got to sit down and talk to my therapist,  she asked how I was feeling. “So so.” She then asked if I was having thoughts of harming myself. The thoughts are always there. I said yes, but they weren’t strong enough to make me act on them. I told her the biggest problem at the forefront of my mind is my marriage, and how I’m struggling with insecurity and trust.

“What would your husband have to do for you to trust him again?”

I didn’t know how to answer this. I said he’d have to be consistently open, honest,  and respectful. How long it would take before I could feel safe and trust him is beyond me, though. 

“What happened after all of the rough patches that made you feel safe and secure?”

I told him about what his dad did to me,  and I don’t know what clicked in his mind,  but he started being the husband I needed all along. I told her about the time he threw my initial trauma in my face and blamed me for it.

“So he wasn’t loving and supportive of you when you told him about your first trauma,  but when you told him about what his dad did to you,  he was?”

Yes. 

We were almost out of time, and she told me to look up guided meditation on YouTube and practice it. 

I left the session feeling worse because her questions only added to my questions,  and the only answer was a fucking YouTube video. 

 I feel like therapy is pointless, but then again I’m feeling like everything I do is pointless. I need to swim back to the surface and find meaning in my life again. 

Has anyone tried guided meditation? If so, did you find it helpful? 

The most callous response to a tragedy I’ve ever read.

Mental health advocate and founder of Project Semicolon, Amy Bleuel, has been tragically lost to suicide. Even though I never knew her,I still mourn for her and her family. We need more heroes in this world, and Amy will always be one. 
Those of us with mental illness know that, even with the good days, we are never cured. I know I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m certain that most people who have found themselves in that dark place would see where I’m coming from. 

If you recall my reference to social media as “anti-social” media in a former blog, you’ll gain a deeper understanding of why I make such a reference by the time I’m finished writing this one. 

One of my favorite parenting bloggers shared the story about the loss of Amy, along with his story about his own personal struggle with depression and suicide. Many people shared their experiences, as well as pictures of their semicolon tattoos. Most of these comments were inspiring, and I almost felt safe enough to open up about my own experiences–almost. 

That feeling of communal bliss came shattering down when I came across this comment: 

Really???? You start a positive movement and then kill yourself??? The exact opposite of what your trying to bring awareness to…… I’m not being rude or hateful, I’ve suffered from anxiety for 30yrs & I’ve been on meds all.izt as long. This just sucks all around…..

Not being rude or hateful until…this (in response to a person who was one of many to respond with a massive  WTF):

Too bad, Satan will be waiting for you and those that committed suicide

See, I won’t bother naming this person, and if you-the perfect one who spewed this bullshit while mounted on your high horse- happen to stumble across my words, I hope they clutch you by the soul and give you a change of heart, or at least make you think twice about saying that shit again. 

Regardless of her being overwhelmed by the darkness and taken from this world too soon, Amy Beuel will always be a hero. She never claimed to be cured, but aimed to provide hope to others who suffer just as she did. 

The semicolon that people were sharing pictures of were inspired by Amy as a reminder to themselves that their story isn’t over. It also helped to break the stigma surrounding mental illness that ignorant self-righteous people like you helped to create in the first place.  

You suffered from anxiety for 30 years, so that gives you a pass to say that shit? No. Your Christianity gives you a pass to assume that people we lose to suicide are in hell?  Absolutely not.  As a Christian and suicide survivor, your words made my heart so heavy. It made me wonder if you would have the audacity to say that to Amy’s family, or any family who has lost a loved one to suicide. I doubt you would. 

That is why I refer to social media as anti-social media. There is this disconnect in humanity which has created opinionated keyboard warriors.

 In honor of Amy’s work and memory, I challenge everyone to pick up their phone to call someone and see how they’re doing. Go outside. Meet people. Smile at strangers. Make the world seem less cruel. I stand by my original statement when I said that compassion and support to prevent suicide begins with each of us being  present in each other’s lives. 

Rest in paradise, Amy. You will always be an inspiration to us. Thank you.

PHOTO CREDIT: American Foundation for Suicide Prevention

The fallacy of “spreading suicide awareness” on anti-social media

Suicide is not a light topic to discuss. Having lost loved ones to suicide, and dealing with my daily struggles of suicidal ideation, I have  a pretty solid understanding of its effects on both sides.

Although people mean well, when they share posts about suicide awareness, I get angry. I don’t get angry with the people specifically, but with society as a whole–for several reasons. 

Generally speaking, we have become disconnected due to social media. I see people on dates or having coffee together, and their faces are staring at screens. We rarely talk face to face with people, and generally choose to text instead of call. Surely this doesn’t apply to everyone, but even if it doesn’t apply to you, I’m sure you have witnessed it.

Suicide has been glamorized as an attention-getter to teens and young adults. When  a person is tragically lost to suicide, there is a tendency for people to flood their facebook pages with posts of grief. People who are closest to them naturally get messages and posts with words of condolences and love. Next, we start to see people who went to school with that person, but never actually talked to them, post about spreading suicide awareness, and getting their satisfactory amount of “likes” and attention. Which leads to cases like this. 

Suicide prevention is a serious issue that deserves attention, as it is quite literally a matter of life or death. The approach to spreading awareness, however, is ineffective and shallow. The people who mean well by sharing suicide hotline numbers and thinking they’ve done their part in suicide prevention are quite unaware of the topic for which they are trying to advocate.

Just weeks ago, when I was at what seemed to be a dark point of no return, I tried calling a suicide hotline. The answer was automated. I HUNG UP. If my husband didn’t answer the phone,  (I was just going to leave him a voicemail) I wouldn’t be here writing this today. 

Despite seeing countless posts from “friends” saying to call them or a suicide hotline in their efforts to prevent suicide, I didn’t think to call them. I didn’t feel comfortable enough to. How can anyone feel comfortable calling a stranger (even disconnected friends can feel like strangers) in their most vulnerable state? 

I still see posts mourning people who have been lost to suicide, and my heart shatters for them, whether I know them or not, I grieve heavily for them. One of them was a mother of three, and that shook me to the core.

My children could have been enduring the pain her children are in. 

My husband once asked me why it affects me so much when I hear about people whom I’ve never met committing suicide. The best way I could think to explain it to him was to compare it to the experience of a cancer survivor. They’ve survived cancer, yet they still lose people to it, and there is that looming fear of it coming back to get them. They understand the pain the person endured before passing, and the thoughts and feelings they possibly experienced as well. They see the pain the loss causes the families, and worry about possibly causing their families the same. 

“Cancer is a disease, and suicide is a choice.”

Touché.

This brings me to my next point about the lack of understanding. Suicide is a fatal symptom of a disorder more than it is a choice. There is an umbrella of mental illnesses that each come with their own stigmas. 

People with depression are labeled as hating the world and wanting to kill themselves and everyone around them. People with PTSD are most likely back from combat and are ticking time bombs waiting to explode. People with bipolar disorder are unpredictable and unstable. Get the picture? Society labels people who suffer from mental illness as generally dangerous. In that same breath, they try to prevent suicide by saying to open up and talk about it. 

So we can be labeled more? No, thank you.

The only way to truly prevent suicide is to break the disconnection among humanity. Reach out and actually talk to people. Get to know one another. BE PRESENT. 

Furthermore, we need to end the stigmatization of mental illness. Just because it isn’t visible doesn’t mean it isn’t painful. Just because you don’t understand it doesn’t mean you have to fear it. Mentally ill does not equate to criminally insane or unfit to be a parent or other contribution to society. 

To truly prevent suicide, we need to spread compassion and efforts to understanding. 

It may not be the most popular approach, but I believe with every fiber of my being, that it would be the most effective in saving lives.