Tuesday, October 22, 2013


I had a difficult week last week.  I slept more than usual, I had less motivation than usual, I cried a lot more than usual.  I was short-tempered and sad.  I felt defeated, ashamed and disappointed in myself, from my therapy appointment early Monday (which I almost missed because I was sleeping) to an interview I had late on Friday.  In fact, I had to sit in the parking lot to settle myself down on Friday because I was fairly certain I wasn't going to come off as confident that I would be an asset to just about anything.

Even my blogs were more morose than usual, and frankly, they're not usually very uplifting.  I wrote two on Friday, when I felt completely at the end of my ability.  My therapist insisted we gauge my suicidality this week.  While I maintain that how I was feeling on Friday was, at most, passive suicidality, I was surprised at the reaction of so many people who read those blogs.  I went back and read it myself on Monday, with my therapist, and I think I was surprised at how dark my thoughts had become again.

I have contemplated no longer existing.  I do not believe I'm capable of taking my own life.  My three children would never forgive me or understand how I could leave them.  I couldn't make my family, my husband, question what they could have done differently.  I simply could not knowingly miss the things to come for my babies.  Yet, I have contemplating no longer existing.

What does it mean to be passively suicidal?  If I were being chased through the woods by a bear, maybe I would just stop running and give in.  If I were hit by a car, maybe I would not fight as hard in the ICU.  Maybe I would take risks.  I don't know.  I've never been in one of these positions and I hope I'm never put to the choice....because I don't know what my decision would be.  I want to believe that I am past the worst of this and that I would die fighting for one more second of this life with the people I love.  But that double-edged sword requires that I stay in my own body and own mind as well.

It has been difficult lately.  I thought I was doing so well and yet so many people are so much more concerned than they had been when I haven't even realized a shift in my mood.  The more I talk about it, the more aware I am that this is a setback.  I know the psychiatrist will be concerned.  I know my therapist is concerned.  I know my closest friends are concerned.  Somehow, I'm not concerned, other than it means I'm not better yet.  Trying to get better has just been so hard and sadly, unrewarded.

No comments:

Post a Comment