Suicide Education Training

Yup, I'm doing it.

I found a certification program online, and I'm going to take it. Of course it would be a tremendous benefit to me. I would learn more about how I could help myself, but also about how I could help others, and help others help me.

I am also going to do the crisis counseling training. I think I would volunteer once a month on the hotline. Hell, who's better than me to talk to a person that wants to commit suicide, almost got raped, dealing with bipolar disorder or is very depressed.

What am I going to do with all the training?

I'm going to start talking to whomever an wherever I can book myself.  Maybe one day I went stand behind "thebipolarchick",  and will reveal who I really am.  All I can say, is that I do not look like how the world envisions people with bipolar disorder.

Stay tuned.

Wrist Strength

I'm suicidal.

Well, how suicidal can I be if I'm blogging, right?

I feel like shit. I've been feeling this way since about noon today. Been in a pissy mood caused by nothing and everything.

So I've been thinking about my wrist strength. People get tattoos on their wrists, so how bad and the pain of slitting a wrist really be?

I didn't do it. I haven't done it. Maybe writing about it is helping.

Maybe.

Convenient Awareness

Another popular person aka celebrity committed suicide today. Apparently he had been depressed. Oooo... shocker.

The media, the masses are only concerned with depression when someone popular takes their life, or in the extreme instance of a mass killing.

This story will be gone from the news in 3....2....oh, what did the Kardashian do?

Exactly.

I Was 9 - SPOILER

I found the following poem among my writing.

I don't know if I wrote it (can't remember, which isn't unusual as I've blocked out LOTS of things in my life.)

I tried googling the words to see if it came from a book - to no avail

I'm grateful to God to still be alive. Whether I wrote them or not, that I had these words in my possession at age 9, evidences the turmoil I was in way back then.

The Suicide
Darker than night
Frighter than fright
As tiny earthworms and maggots cover
The rotting body in it's tomb.

No movement
No breath of fresh air
No feeling inside
No brain waves through the mind.

What brought me to do this?

The heart pumps it's last pump of blood.
The stomach plunges on it's last meal
And no movement in the legs, cuz they're dead like steal.

I was smarter than that.
People said my life should be thrilling.
I knew I shouldn't have done it,
But yet, I jumped off the building.

Everybody Hurts - R.E.M.

When the day is long and the night,
the night is yours alone,
When you're sure you've had enough of this life,
well hang on
Don't let yourself go,
'cause everybody cries and everybody hurts sometimes

Sometimes everything is wrong.
Now it's time to sing along
When your day is night alone,
(hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go,
(hold on)
When you think you've had too much of this life,
well hang on

'Cause everybody hurts.
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts.
Don't throw your hand. Oh, no.
Don't throw your hand
If you feel like you're alone, no, no, no,
you are not alone

If you're on your own in this life,
the days and nights are long,
When you think you've had too much of this life to hang on

Well, everybody hurts sometimes,
Everybody cries.
And everybody hurts sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes.
So, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts.
You are not alone

Dear Oprah:

Dear Oprah,

I love that you built the school in Africa, and that you talk to celebs and help women find their correct bra size.

That's all f*cking awesome.

But you think you can pause to do a show about bipolar disorder and the struggle I deal with every day?

So it's not MS, Lupus, cancer or sickle cell, but it's hella important and we really need you to raise awareness and get people talking about this.

Why do you think some people kill themselves, turn to drugs and alcohol and go on murderous rampages?

Why do you think so many of us actually inhale?

It's the damn non-stop voices in our heads, the frustration, the paranoia.

We need a face, Oprah.

We need you to help.

I'm not saying stop cancer research, but can a few bucks be kicked out to find or make some f*cking meds that work?

Damn?

Oprah, I am even willing to come out of the closet to be the face. I guarantee you that you and your viewing audience will be surprised by the faces behind this disorder.

No one talks about it.

Hey, maybe I'll film a week in the life of the Butterfly or I won't take my meds (that don't work anyway) just so i could be manic or depressed (right now it's a roll of the dice); guaranteed to be a ratings booster.

Hey, use me for Sweeps!

I'll do anything to feel normal again.

Suicide

I have to talk it out.

This can't exactly be the life I'm gonna have for the next how many years.

See days like today are when the suicidal thoughts enter my mind.

I'm too much of a chicken to do it.

I care too much about other people to make them sad, and I know that because I know better, doing it reserves me a spot in the itchy seat in hell.

I'm so pissed.

Is it that bad?

It sure as hell feels like it, and when there's no end in sight, makes you wanna hold a yard sale of all your stuff and be a hobo.

What am I doing?

Yea, there are people living with this everyday, and they don't have access to medication. I know that it can be worse, but I'm not thinking or talking about anyone else's reality. I'm thinking about my own. I need coping mechanisms.

My therapy sucks because I think they should have given me some coping skills for 3 in the morning when I'm standing and looking at a wall trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Where is the 10 Steps to Calming My Ass Down?
Where's the Relax in 5 Easy Steps Pamphlets?

Why the hell am I paying a therapist when much o' the sh*t I deal with isn't happening in that 45 minute block?

She is so getting muthaf*cking cancelled.

What's the benefit?

I get things out here on blogger.

What? 2 sessions isn't enough?

Well I rather buy Sweedish fish with the $25 I give her each week.

Where's the justice?

I don't know any more.

Which came first: me being weird and then the diagnosis or has the diagnosis made me weirder?
See, I did strange things before the diagnosis, but I feel stranger now.

Is it that I am overanalyzing and looking at everything to minutia?
Are the meds slowly disolving my brain to a lump of week old spam?

Why:
* Do i walk around in cricles in my bedroom?
* Do I talk to stuffed animals?
* The hell am I covering them at night so they're not cold?
* Am I counting so damn much?
* Am I not answering my phone?
* Am I sitting in a filthy room?
* Am I stalled on going outside?

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Where is the f*cking magic pill?

I can't possibly live like this for the rest of my life.

Where's the justice?

I've been good- good grades, no cheating in school, no cheating on boyfriends, I give, I give, I give, and I am the one that gets bipolar?

What about the high school bully that stabbed someone?
What about the ex that told me my breast and butt weren't big enough?
What about my former boss that was a fat ass liar?
What about italian liar?
What about my so called friend that assumed I was a whore because some greasy ass guy lied and said he slept with me when he didn't? He should know me. F*ck him and his herpe ass chick!

Why the hell aren't those dumb muthaf*ckers bipolar?

I swear if you tell me that you only get what you can handle, I will blow a f*cking gasket!

I have to go to work, but can't, and now I must call in once again and appear like the nutball I have become.

Where's the justice?
Where's the muthaf*cking justice?

Speaking of Suicide

Can you really speak about bipolar without addressing suicide?

Suicide is one of those taboo subjects, yet we bips (as I affectionately call those with bipolar, and NO its not okay for non-bips to use the term.) have all thought about it.

I'll be honest - what prompted me to get meds was the fear that I would one day be unable to stop myself from doing IT.

I've thought about IT.

I've thought about it a lot, and many times, I wasn't thinking that its wrong, or permanent or that God won't be pleased.

I was thinking about ending the hurt, frustration and agony.

I've ran away from train platforms because I didn't trust myself to stand near as the train pulled into the station.

I've thrown scissors across the room, to stop myself from using them on myself.

I've dropped knives, and poured pills into the toilet.

I was able to stop myself.

What if I get to the point when I couldn't?

That's why I chose meds.