I woke up Monday, Sept 3rd at 4am. I lied in bed until 6am, when I started feeling a huge wave of sadness come on. I started crying. I couldn't stop. I felt utterly and completely hopeless. This was it. I was done. I'd reached my limit. More than any other time in my life, I was finished. I was going to die. I made a plan for my suicide. And I cried and cried. I was sad for myself, not in a selfish sort of way, but I mourned for my own life. A life of struggle and pain. Depression has been prominent in my life for almost 24 years. That's too long. I was exhausted. My plan was not to die that day, but a few weeks out. I had a set date. I obsessed over this. I read up on this type of suicide, I knew exactly what would happen to my body. It was gruesome. But it would end quickly. I was ready. I was sad for Mr. Purrington. I was so sorry I had to leave him. My heart broke into a million pieces. I was sad for my friends. I was sad for Zach. One thing I didn't feel was that I was giving up. I have fought so hard for so long, that this just seemed like the next natural step in the illness. Depression will take my life. I've known that for a very long time. And now was the time. This was it. I cried some more. I did not follow any sort of crisis or safety plan I have made. I didn't care enough to pull myself out of my decision anymore. Like I said, I was done. But I didn't want to be done that day yet. It was as very complicated set of feelings and emotions. I wasn't sure I was going to be able to wait a few weeks. So I used the Crisis Text Line twice when the urges to die were overpowering. It makes little sense, bu I couldn't die just yet. Finally in the early evening I text my dear friend. I told her how rotten I was feeling. Her empathy probably saved my life. Then I wrote. I wrote about dying. About being buried at sea. About taking care of Mr. Purrington. Once again, my heart shattered. I hesitantly posted my blog to Facebook. I think I knew I needed help. Immediately text and messages started coming in. It was almost overwhelming. But suddenly I wasn't alone. I was loved and cherished whether I felt it or not. I decided to go into KMH the next day to hopefully be able to talk to a therapist. I went back to bed and finally by 6am when I wasn't sleeping still took some Seroquel and soon after fell asleep. I woke up at 5pm Tuesday evening. During that time my phone had exploded with texts and messages. I took some time to reply to them. It was too late to go into KMH, so I decided I'd go Wednesday. My good friend brought me dinner and some sleep aids. I was able to go back to sleep that night and fitfully slept until Wednesday morning. A little before 9am this same friend came to take me to KMH. By some grace Callie was available right at 9am. The three of us decided the best path next was to go to urgent care, which we did and the doctor, who was unbelievably kind, sent me to the ER at St. Anthony's. It's the same ER I went to three years ago. At 1pm my friend had to leave, and at 1:30pm the social worker came in to talk to me, It wasn't even an option, I was going to be transferred to a mental health ward. Zach and another dear friend came to give their support while I waited for the social worker to find a room for me. Around 6pm they said they'd found a room at St. Joseph's in Tacoma. At 7:15pm an ambulance came to transport me. I got into my room at 8:15pm and did my intake with my nurse until about 10pm.
And here I am today. This is now. Tomorrow will be a week in the hospital. I have worked closely with many nurses, social workers, counselors, and the psychiatrist. They've been exceptionally wonderful.
But how do I feel? I still want to die. I'm still sad. My eyes are still glassy. I'm still very anxious. I still have my plan. Today I feel like the fog in my brain is lifting. I haven't been quite so tired today. The intense suicidal urges are not quite as strong. But as they subside, the self harm thoughts increase. I plan on talking to the therapist about that tonight. Also I want to talk to her about my plan and how no it's problematic it's for a later day because I still plan to do it. It's not like I was going to kill myself that day.
What's going on with my treatment? My vitamin B12 and D levels were really low, so now I'm on a high dose of those vitamins. The Zoloft has been increased to 150mg. And I've been put on 10mg of Abilify. I've been on Abilify before, but am willing to try it again. The doctor wants me to start ECT. I gave the ok and now he and the social worker are advocating for me to start. Unfortunately it's a process and will take a day or two for the other hospital's team to accept my case. I'm extremely anxious that I'll be denied. I can't be. This is my last hope. My last chance. Something I haven't tried before that is very effective in a lot of people with major and resistant depression. So I wait.
And that's today. This is my life. I don't know if I'll be ok. I honestly can't say if there's a tomorrow. I feel hopeless. I feel helpless. I am sad.
It is what it is.
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