Freeing the voices in my head

Posts tagged ‘Crazy’

The Muck Inside

First, my apologies.  This will not be a funny or happy blog, and if you are a depressive with suicidal tendencies, be aware that this may be a trigger post for you.

I get so angry at people who judge suicides.  “Oh, how cowardly!”  “Damn, how selfish!”  “How could he do that?  What the hell was he thinking?”

Whoa, wait.  I’m a depressive with suicidal tendencies.  Fortunately, I’m also a dysfunctional depressive – when in an episode, I have no energy to get out of bed, so I have no energy to carry out my suicide plan.  So, I’m here and safe.  And yes, I have a suicide plan.  It’s been worked on and honed to perfection from the age of fourteen.  That’s clue one:  If a depressed person actually has thought out a suicide plan, get them help immediately.

“Oh, but she’s just looking for attention.”  Nope, clue number two:  If a depressive is talking the “I hate my life, I want to die” talk, don’t ignore it, brush them off, or storm about being angry with them.  Get them help immediately.

You ignore us or get angry with us because you are afraid.  You don’t know how to stop us or help, and, the biggie, you are afraid of any talk of Death, so, you react.  Don’t.  Just do your best to get us some help.

Because, you see, we aren’t being selfish or cowardly.  Inside the mind of a depressive, we really do believe you would be better off without us, that we are worthless and therefore, shouldn’t be alive.  Getting angry at us just proves to us that you want us gone.  Since Life is already too horrible, we seek Death.  In our minds, it’s the only way to escape the horror and remove our disgusting presence from your life.  We really are thinking of how our death will benefit you.

That how twisted and crazed we are inside.

In here, the voices of horror are quite often loud and they never shut up.  They tell us how terrible we are all the time and we can’t hear you over those voices.  Every outer influence from bullying to denting your car to breaking a glass is more proof of our uselessness and the voices scream louder.

The expectations of you and the rest of society are too much for us.  We try , try, and fail, again and again.  We’ll never be good enough and you’ll be better off without us.  So, down go the pills, or the knife, or, POP, off goes the gun.

It isn’t easy to put a knife to your arm and start slicing it open.  It fucking hurts.  A lot.  A depressive has to be really done with the mental pain to withstand that physical pain.  Doesn’t sound like a coward to me.

Selfish?  No, to us, you already hate us every time you criticize us or get angry with us.  There are no lines of “I’m just telling you for your own good; I still love you.”  We aren’t hearing that.  We can’t.  The voices are screaming too loud.  So, since we hurt you so much, we’ll just go away.

I’ll always regret not being more aware for my loved one.  He didn’t reach out, didn’t speak of it, he just spiraled down, and I didn’t even catch the signs.  He drank too much, fought too much, argued all the time, decided we hated him…  If only I had visited his home more often, sat down and really talked to him, told him I knew where his mind was…  If only.

So, don’t blame yourself.  There’s really not much you can do, except try to see the signs.  I saw them and didn’t act on them because I was too deep in my own murk.  If another depressive missed all that, then you can’t be expected to see it.  If you’re lucky, your loved one will toss out a hint or two.  Don’t ignore those clues.  Go get help.

It will be five years tomorrow; I love you, C, and still miss you.

Thank you for reading.  Now, go, hug each other, but most of all:  Listen, listen to each other without reacting.  You might be surprised by what you actually hear when you really listen.

Have A Crazy New Year!

I’m back!  I slept!  I went grocery shopping!  I’m safely home!  It’s New Year’s Eve!  Indulge in exclamation points!

Oh, come on, you KNOW “Happy New Year” is an oxymoron, right?  So, ditch the “Happy” and go for “Crazy!”  Crazy is so much better.  Suddenly, there’s no longer any pressure to be right or correct or productive.  No one dares ask you to do much of anything because, well, hey, “she’s the crazy one!”

Crazy is much more fun.  Spend a few minutes in a grocery store talking to the produce lady about bananas…  “I only need three; they spoil so quickly.”  “Oh, but they are so good for you,” she told me.  “I wouldn’t know.  They’re for my dog.”  Bananas – 78 cents a pound, the look on that lady’s face – priceless!

Climb the bottom two shelves of the milk department (I’m 5’3″) to reach the last tiny carton of whipping cream.  Not happening (and why are the tiny cartons way up there in the stratosphere?  Men don’t know how to use whipping cream, so why is it up out of a woman’s reach?).  Glance behind you at the muffled laughter as a polite young lady of the Asian persuasion attempts to help you.  Hey, she had the extra two inches we needed to find ANOTHER tiny carton hidden behind mine.  High-five each other to random applause and raised eyebrows…yeah, crazy’s good!

Compliment the cashier.  Today’s girl had a lovely hair style, so I complimented her.  She patted her do, saying, “But I only had time to brush it.”  “Brushing’s good; it’s so smooth and shiny.”  I whipped off my hat.  “I have demented poodle meets light socket hair.  Wanna trade?”  *cackle, snort*  Shuffle away…but, she was laughing!

My apologies for last night’s blog, but I’m feeling much better now!  (Night Court, loved John Astin, loved that show!)  Or maybe the pain pills are finally working…

Have a Crazy – okay – Happy New Year, Everyone!  😀