My Predetermined Suicide

“A pill to make you numb, a pill to make you dumb…
A pill to make you anybody else…
But all the drugs in this world won’t save her from herself…”

I was flipping through my burn book this afternoon with my boyfriend. I’ve never come that close to sharing the contents of this book with anyone. No one has ever read my black book before. You here on the internet are the only ones I have shared anything with in regards to that. However, in the interest of trust in the relationship between boyfriend and I, I want to show him the entire journal. But its so hard! In the past I considered burning the damn things, hence the title burn book. But, I can’t. Its like one of my horcruxes. It’s a part of me and if I destroy it I’ll be destroying what has come to define me, my past and my madness.

So in short, I haven’t shown boyfriend everything of the book’s entirety just yet, that’s something I’m not ready to do at this point in time. Even though I want to, the thought makes me panic because there is that air of uncertainty. What is he going to think? Will it help him understand me or will I just make him sad? I don’t want to make him sad or upset.

I found another poem in the burn book that I wrote back in July of 2005. It may sound completely cheesy now, but at the time it expressed my concrete desire to kill myself, but it also radiated that sense of apprehension. However, at the time I sincerely believed that I would die by suicide, that was how the light was going to go out. I thought it was fate. Enjoy the poem and thank you for reading everyone.

burnbookpoem1

Do you like my demon dragon?

The Emptiness

I’m going to share an excerpt from a diary entry I wrote back in April of 2007. This was a time where the relationship with my abuser was almost at its worst. He was getting bolder in his actions. He was getting physically and more verbally abusive. All I wanted to do during that time in the interest of escape was to drink, smoke, cut myself and cry. And cut myself I did, the pain reminded me that I was still alive even though I felt dead inside.

This diary excerpt is a scattering of incidents that happened during one of our frequent arguments. He loved to torment me with fighting, yelling at me, degrading me either alone in his room or in front of friends. It didn’t matter to him. He was always right and I was always…always in the wrong. To him I was a failure and he would remind me that I should have been more grateful that he loved me because no one else would. But now I know better, he was a manipulative bastard who toyed with my emotions and sense of self for his own twisted means. That’s two and a half years of my life I will never get back. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I know better now.

APRIL 2007

“He called me oblivious, a quitter, told me to make some goddamn sense.”

“I’m so hurt because he hates my family and dislikes my sister.”

“He asked me if I have a pair of fucking ears, claiming I don’t hear things the right way.”

“He said I have no brain, asked me if I was mentally challenged.”

“He said to me….’fuck you’.”

In response to our frequent fights which he always started, I would write poetry to express my sorrow, guilt and shame. I also heavily contemplated suicide during those days. One said poem stands out from the rest in regards to this time, it was titled, The Emptiness, which perfectly summed up how I felt internally. Every time I read this poem, I can’t help but imagine a landscape in black and white, desolate and barren, just like my soul.

The Emptiness

The mourning comes again
When the night lifts its sully veils
Revealing only a paleness; in the air
I sense a discoloration
Which a prism can never capture
But, it seems to me a blur
In every shade of gray
With shadows populating my vision
Like a thicket of phantom trees
And so I crumble
Along with the bones of the past
To which I vanish; alone
With the memories

 

Forgotten Under

I recalled a poem I wrote back in 2007 when I was going through one of the worst times of my life. I was living with an abuser and consequentially I was the victim of domestic violence. Now I call myself a survivor. As I reread this poem, I do still consider it beautiful, however its interpretation can vary from opinion to opinion. When I wrote it, I was recounting the loss of myself as I fell deeper into my partner’s twisted ideology. I was drowning and I didn’t think I could be saved. It was my friends and family at the time that rescued me from that storm, and my gratitude is unending. And so, without further ado, Forgotten Under:

As we walk these pattered beaten stones
Did we toss the flower of our hilarity
under trodden foot and venom’d scorn?
A mangled scar-wrought petal; smeared and torn
Cast over an ocean til each shade was lost
Lost…beneath the frothy tongues of night and water
Did it bury deep among the sailor dead?
Stowed between the boarded wood; drowned…drowned
It’s lively hues suckled harshly by those salty tears
Leviathan herself drove us deeper, just to be
Forgotten under…

I’m Baaaaaack!

My goodness, it has been awhile since I had last posted to this blog. My sincerest apologies for that. However, now that I am back I’m hoping that my mental health allows for my motivation to stay in check. My plan is post something on this blog once a week.

A lot has happened in the years leading up to this post. I have since found a much better job that pays halfway decently AND it gives me benefits! Last year I was engaged, but that whole thing fell through. My to-be wedding date is coming up, this October the 1st and I honestly feel a little weird about it. Is it normal to feel weird about that? I mean, I am not upset that I am not getting married to the guy anymore, but sometimes I think I mourn the concept. I was once almost going to be married. That whole thing. But ANYWAYS, the plan for that specific day is to make a new memory. My boyfriend (yes, I am seeing someone and he is completely wonderful) and I are going to take a weekend road trip…somewhere…and replace my once to be wedding date with a much better memory. It’s a brilliant idea.

My adventures in the quest to improve my mental health has been one seriously fucked up roller-coaster. From the first time I was seen by a psychiatrist at sixteen to current times at twenty-nine, I’ve been diagnosed with everything from Depression to Depression with Psychotic Features, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bipolar 1, Bipolar 1 with Psychotic Features and now the new diagnosis my therapist has for me is Schizophrenia or Schizoaffective Disorder (basically that means I have schizophrenia along with a mood disorder like bipolar or depression). And the cherry on top is that I might also have OCD. Good god that is a mouthful.

I’m frustrated because while yes, my psychiatrist is treating my symptoms, which is important, I really want to know the name of my demon(s).

Most of the time, like 95% of the time I feel as though my mind is a perpetual Wonderland, a landscape of untamed fantastical wilderness and I am Alice falling down the rabbit hole forever. I wonder where I will end up. I’m not going to lie, but the diagnosis of schizophrenia or somewhere in that spectrum makes a hell of a lot of sense. And I haven’t been the only one to have noticed either. Two of my close friends have confided in me that they suspected this all along. Naturally I am on the fence in regards to how I feel about all this. On one hand I am afraid. Afraid of how people might treat me going forward, whether I could possibly lose my job and all that jazz. But, this fear was smoothed over when my boyfriend told me that he loves me for me, and that a diagnosis, whatever it may be, will not change that. Several of my friends and family members have also told me that this doesn’t change how they feel or relate to me.

I’m smiling right now, I feel safe and accepted. Like I can be myself.

First comes the fear and then comes the understanding. On the flip side I feel like dancing because I finally have a diagnosis that seems to make sense to me. After years of partial revelations, I feel as though my therapist actually hit the nail on the head.

 

Thank you for reading my come back post! I hope to see you all around her more often.