Why do others care if a person kills themselves? I'm not talking about parents, siblings, other, extended family, or others who know and care about the person. I'm talking about those who are not otherwise invested in the person. People who don't know them from Adam (query: if you're talking about a girl is the phrase 'don't know her from Eve' appropriate? or do you just have to find something else? I've often wondered about this, lol). What makes them bother? Why do they care if I die?
I ask these questions not because I am suicidal at this time. That is to say there is no intent. Heaven forbid the thought leave me alone for just one day. Restarted a couple of antidepressants yesterday so it's been even more fun these past 24 hours. Actually it's those antidepressants that bring me to the point of entry. Because yesterday I had strangers go out of their way so that I could be able to have those meds.
I went to the free clinic in town yesterday. I didn't expect much to come of it. As a matter of fact I rather expected to waste their time. But I had to try. Out of work again I have no way to pay for antidepressant medication. The best solution to that would be to get another job. I need another job, for more reasons than just medication. Student loans. Rent. Basic existence for myself and the boys (the cat and dog). The problem is... I don't know if I can do it. I want to. I need to. I need to finish growing up. I need to become an adult. But since that last sever MD episode (that anyone who has kept up with this blog is more than likely heartily sick of hearing me reference) I haven't felt capable. Fragile. It's the best word I can come up with. It's a word that I hate, at least when it is being used to describe myself. But when I was 'properly medicated' (on antidepressants and feeling blissfully Normal) I could do things. I know it sounds stupid but 'life' was possible again. All of it. A job. Exercising (I'd love to lose weight... a substantial amount, if I am to be honest). Going back to school. All of it. And now... nothing. Not when I'm not medicated. And it's just getting worse. Further into the Pit I go. And if I go too far, this time, I do not believe I'll make it out. So I went for help, believing that they would have none to give me, and OK with that. I spent two hours there and surprisingly enough most of that time was talking to someone, not just sitting in an exam room waiting. During that time I talked to a doctor (I think she's relatively new as far as volunteering there because I've never seen her before) and a mental health worker (at the risk of sounding ungrateful I will say to that 'joyous days'... but I mean, honestly, do I have to enjoy talking about all this crap? Because I'm not sure that is ever going to happen). They in turn talked to an NP who is apparently there 'all the time' and the guy who runs the clinic. And at the end of the two hours I was told by the guy who runs things (nice guy, from the whole three minute interaction we had) that the clinic would cover it (thankfully the two together, because of a discount the clinic gets at one of the local pharmacies, only added up to $27 so I don't have to feel too badly about it... I probably will, but I don't have to, lol) and left with an Rx for 200 mg sertraline (once daily) and one for 150 mg bupropion twice daily. Ah and a referral to comprehensive mental health in town, despite my telling them that they won't take me. That's alright I'll just suck it up, go talk to them once, and then present myself at the clinic again in two weeks to tell them that comprehensive once again told me no.
They didn't have to work so hard at it (there was a lot of phone calling before they decided the clinic would cover my meds). I'm not sure why they did. Why did they bother? What made them care? *shakes head* I don't know I'm making myself sound awful, I think. I understand helping people. I like people. So... I mean, I do understand... but I don't *is confused* Why do they care if I am depressed. Why do they care if I hurt myself or think of suicide daily. I mean, enough to bother, They didn't have to call around. They didn't have to do any of it.
And as I sit here, a huge mess of suicidal and self injurious ideas, thoughts in the form of images >.<, the tiniest part of me wishes they hadn't bothered(OK, not really but lord do I wish it would stop).
Is it stupid, that I don't understand? I should, I think. I don't know why I do not.
