Tired of fighting

***Trigger Warning***Not sure if it needs it, but this is kind of a heavy post (I feel like it is anyways) and there is talk about suicide and self-harm***

Sometimes I'm just tired of fighting.

I've been making progress in therapy, and I've been taking some positive steps, even my therapist has commented about how proud she is.  But despite all that, there is this overwhelming and heavy darkness that is just attached me to me; a part of me.  I have yet to be able to visualize this "part" separate from myself.  In response to this particular part, my "fire fighter" parts, especially the self-harm and suicidal parts, become very active.  Since this dark part never seems to fully leave, it means those fire fighter parts are always active.  I know they're trying to protect me, but I still have to somehow actively fight against them.  It wears me out.  It leaves me exhausted, emotional, and feeling vulnerable.  It just seems to much easier to let them all win.  I'm tired of holding on and hanging in there.  I'm tired of having to spend almost 100% of my energy trying to function, or hell, just trying to stay alive!  I've been feeling lonely and angry.

There's a quote by David Foster Wallace that I think I've shared before, but it goes:

“The so-called ‘psychotically depressed’ person who tries to kill herself doesn’t do so out of quote ‘hopelessness’ or any abstract conviction that life’s assets and debits do not square. And surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. The person in whom Its invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. Make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows. Their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view; i.e. the fear of falling remains a constant. The variable here is the other terror, the fire’s flames: when the flames get close enough, falling to death becomes the slightly less terrible of two terrors. It’s not desiring the fall; it’s terror of the flames. And yet nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling ‘Don’t!’ and ‘Hang on!’, can understand the jump. Not really. You’d have to have personally been trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling.”

This is how I feel.  This is explains why I have these fire fighter parts.  I'm more afraid of the flames than I am of the jump.  Those fire fighter parts try to protect me by giving me a way to get away from the flames.  But the thing is, I'm not "supposed" to be participating in those either.  I'm not "supposed" to end my life and I'm not "supposed" to hurt myself.  So not only do I have to try to fight the darkness/flames, but the very thing that is supposed to help, isn't an easily acceptable solution.  It's been almost 10 months since I last hurt myself.  I know that's supposed to be a good thing, but it just doesn't feel like it.  Why?  Because I have to fight against it every single freaking day.  I know it doesn't make sense to a lot of people, but hurting myself provides some relief.  It makes that darkness a little more tolerable, it makes it a tiny bit easier to fight to get through to the next day, it makes me feel in control.  I am sick of fighting against these parts!!!  I'm tired from it.  I don't have the strength and I don't have the energy to keep doing it right now.

Sorry for the post, I just haven't been able to get this stuff out, despite how much I've tried, and I just really needed to get it out.  I know that the Savior and Heavenly Father have not abandoned me, but I feel alone.  I've been wanting to ask for a blessing, but I always seem to struggle with that, even when I'm comfortable with the person.  I feel unworthy and undeserving of help.  Or worried that I'll bother someone.

*deep breathes*  :-/  :'(

A very frustrating experience

I had a very different experience this week, one that has left me feeling a little angry and sour.

So I've been trying to find a psychiatrist because right now my antidepressants are handled by my primary care physician, and I wanted to get to someone specialized.  In addition, my therapist (Karen) doesn't think my medicine is working right now because despite the stuff we've been working through and despite the progress I've been making, I'm still struggling a lot with this overwhelming darkness that is attached me to, suicidal thoughts, and the desire to self-harm.  So she recommended a place in Bellefonte that she knew took my insurance, so I called.  In order to get an appointment with one of their psychiatrists, you have to have an assessment by one of their therapists to get a referral.  Oy.  So I had my "assessment" on Friday, and boy did it almost end badly.

So when I went in for this assessment, one of the things she had me fill out was a Suicide Risk Assessment.  I thought about not answering everything honestly because I knew the score was going to be high, but I want to be able to get the medication I need, so I answered everything honestly.  I answered that yes, there has been an attempt in my past.  Yes, I often think about I want to give up, yes I have access to pain killers, but no, I don't have any plans right now.  I answered that I have struggled with self-harm in the past, but that it's been 9 months since I last did anything.  I also made it very clear to her that my therapist is very much aware of everything going on.  Well, she added up the score of the assessment and told me how high it was and immediately started talking about how I needed to go into inpatient care.

Wait...what?!?!

I told her that yes, there are times I had thought about going, but right now, I didn't need to.  When she asked what I was "afraid of" I explained that 1.) I didn't like not knowing what would happen and not being in control (see my last post) and that 2.) I can't afford to lose shifts at work.  I'm not going to lie, part of me is also afraid of all the stigma associated with it (ironic, huh?)

Anyways, I explained again that my therapist knows everything.  She knows that the suicidal part and self-harm part are my fire fighters, and while they're often present and active, I don't have any current plans to take my life.  I have a safety plan.  In the past 5 or 6 years, and even more so over the past year (as I've become more open about everything) I've learned how to be able to tell when I'm not safe, and what steps I need to take to be safe.  I know who I can reach out to and that I have a way to contact my therapist between appointments.  I still go to work, I'm still working on school, still going to church and still seeing friends etc etc etc.  I told this lady ALL of that, but all she saw was the number on the paper, and that's it.  When I told her I wasn't willing to go into inpatient care, she started talking about being involuntarily committed.  Again....what?!?!  Are you kidding me?!?!  She tried to call my therapist but she wasn't available, so she sent her an email.  Then she asked if there I was a way I could lock up my medicine, so I told her I could give it to my roommate who would keep my accountable.  So she asked to call my roommate so she could talk to her.  Finally, she agreed to let me go.  But by then I was super angry.  I get where she was coming from, I understand they're liable and how does she know I'm being honest about things, or anything like that.  She doesn't know me.  But that's just it...she doesn't know me.  Ugh.

So after my appointment, I texted Karen and gave her a heads up about the email, which she wasn't able to open because it was encrypted and she didn't know how to open it.  So I gave her the woman's name in case she wanted to call her.  Then we texted a bit and she said this other woman probably wasn't as comfortable with my fire fighters as we were (you know, since she doesn't know and hasn't worked with me,)  But Karen also asked me if I had any plans or if it was still just general thoughts, and she made sure I was doing okay and everything.  I felt less angry after touching base with Karen.  But still, I was just so frustrated that this woman wouldn't listen to anything I was saying.

Anyways, I guess the reason why I felt the need to share this story is because September is Suicide Awareness Month.  There are a few "campaigns" going on to shed light on this, like take 5 minutes to listen to a friend.  I also want to "promote" creating a safety plan for yourself.  This website has a good template for one:  http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/learn/safety.aspx