Please, don't ask that of me...

She basically asked me to give her permission to kill herself. To let her go. She says all this at the same time she asks me to not talk to our mutual friend. So I had no one. (I'm a terrible friend. I did tell our friend. She just kept on and I couldn't do it. Unfortunately it just made things worse for our friend. I didn't mean it to but I should have known)

She keeps saying it doesn't matter. That we shouldn't care. But it does matter. We do care.

All three of us are so stressed. We're all so touchy. For the most part, none of us want to burden the others. It's no good for any of us but we are all three so alike it is no surprise.

I wonder how much SI will go on because of this? I hope for my friends, none (especially for the one as, well, we just never know with her now). For me... maybe some burning, I don't know. The good news is, I guess, that I'm pretty numb feeling right now so most of this is only having so much effect. Burning... it probably isn't necessary (which is good because I don't have much in the way of first aid supplies here).

Another post from another forum

Once again I wrote this on a thread I have on an online SI/SH community. As you can tell it's just a reaction to some folks in that community who are causing some problems amongst the other members.
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I cannot stand the melodrama! The attention-seeking! Some of us actually have these problems you people are just using as ways to get the attention you crave! This is serious stuff people. Life and death stuff. Its stuff that incapacitates some of us so much that we can hardly get out of bed. Stuff that haunts us while we are awake and stalks us in our dreams. Life, for some, really is a living nightmare. And you, you who are out only for attention, you take up space much needed by others. You monopolize support that others need more, sometimes desperately so. You can counter, I suppose, that if the support is so desperately needed than your sniveling posts should not be any sort of hindrance. But the problem is that while the rest of us speak honestly from the heart, from the very depths of the emptiness inside, you are master manipulators, saying just the right thing to get the maximum amount of attention, which is, after all, really all you are out to get in the first place.

Do you understand the damage that you do, however inadvertent it might be? Or is it that you just do not care? Because the rest of us, those of us who really are suffering, we could do with a little less of your drama, I think. Especially when you expect us to be the ones to satisfy your need for attention. And being those who actually experience and understand that which you only fabricate, we provide that attention. We are, after all, the perfect audience. We know what you are talking about and are sympathetic to that which you pretend to experience. Because we have been there. We are there. We live it day in and day out. And after all, why would we automatically assume you are just using us when we ourselves are there for a purpose. We are there to offer and receive support. And that is what we do. We support. We support you because we understand the need for support. And while you are getting the attention you crave from those of us who have so little to give emotionally... we keep hurting. We keep seeking support that is no longer there. Support that has been wrung from those who have the least to give and therefor have nothing left to give those of us who really need it.

I Wish I Knew Another Language (actually a rant of sorts)

I wrote this as a post on an 'online community' I am involved in and the thought 'What the hell, may as well post it on my blog. Not like too many people read it anyway ;)'

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That is, I wish I knew another spoken language I'm pretty proficient in ASL if I do say so myself but you can't really write in a signed language). Don't worry I'm getting to the "ranting/venting" part. It's just that some times I would really like to go off in said 'other language'. I've no idea why. Perhaps it is a privacy thing since the people I associate with tend to speak only English. Alas, as I do not know any other language I guess I will have to go off in my own native English.

I hesitate to write this but what else do I do? See, I've got no one to talk to. At least, no one to talk to about such things. Not right now. Hopefully again but right now that person with which I would usually confide in, and, lets face it, whine to, well that person has their own problems to deal with right now. They would probably kill me if they knew this (which is why I hesitate to write it as they are sure to read this) but that's just the way it is. I will continue with my feeble efforts to not dump my problems on them. I wish I could keep them from them entirely but it's just getting too hard. If it happens (just did tonight :pinch:) try to put a bit of a humorous spin on it but... it's very obvious... whatever.

I know that after I write this I will feel as if all I have done is complain. I will tell myself that there are so many people with much worse problems than I and that I am simply melodramatic. That I just need to pull my head out of my ass and get on with life like everyone else. But for the moment, I will allow myself to just write.

I took a nap this afternoon. No big deal people take naps all the time and Sunday afternoon seems to be a favorite time. So really what I did was become a cliche. I slept from some time after noon until five this evening. Honestly the only reason I got up then was because I had to feed the boys (the cat and dog) and take the dog out. Were it not for that I am sure I could have slept straight on through till Monday morning (with minimal interruption in that sleep).

It's just...

I feel awful (huh, didn't take long for the first chorus of 'You're so Melodramatic' to start running through my head). I hate blaming this all on the lack of meds but the fact of the matter is that when I ran out of Wellbutrin things started to get a bit worse and when I ran out of Zoloft as well *shrug* here we are. My sleep pattern is awful, my appetite is almost nonexistent (which unfortunately does not keep me from eating :pinch:) and I don't want to do anything. Lord, sometimes I can't even be bothered to find the remote for the TV so I can watch a show I usually like. I have to make myself do things (it took me three days just to get my tiny apartment sized kitchen clean!), things I usually enjoyed, responsibilities that the thought of shirking would normally cause me to balk. And if asked to do something additional... well I can usually guilt myself in to doing it (babysitting, for example, which I usually enjoy as I do love little ones) but I spend the time leading up to whatever it is I have agreed to do just dreading it, knowing that I am just not up to it.

I went nine months without cutting. It was not always easy. Some times the only thing that really kept me from doing it was how far I had come. I've cut twice now and if you want to honest truth... well, I'm not sure I really care. I can't really tell you how I feel about it. Mostly *shrug* I'm just numb.

I hate this. I really do. I hate that I seem to be dependent on these meds. That, I think, is what I hate the most. I know that statistically I am screwed (my last major depressive episode having been my fourth which means that, statistically speaking, my odds of having another one are as close to 100% as you can get). I know that. But I don't want it to be true. I don't want to do this for the rest of my life. I'm only 26 for crying out loud 'the rest of my life' could be a LONG time yet.

And yet, who knows. The longer I go without my meds the shorter my life expectancy could become *shrug*.

Я трахающий ненависть это! Моя голова - такой беспорядок, что я не могу даже бросить пригодное качество! Я ненавижу это, я ненавижу это, я ненавижу это!

Ah good ol' translation programs *sigh*.

How do I say goodbye

How do I say goodbye, my friend
When it is clear that your time has not come
How do I ask you to stay
When I understand too well the emptiness, the hopelessness that you feel
How do I let you go
When I know my world will be that much more empty without you

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I hope I've written this prematurely. She lives literally half a world away (well, more or less) which, as she pointed out, means I cannot tell anyone of her plans. In two weeks my friend who has talked me through my depression as I have hers is giving up. There is nothing more I can think of to do. I've tried everything I know how. And so I sit back and wait, ferverently praying I will not recieve the Facebook message or email telling me that I have one less friend in this world. And that, hard as I tried, I was unable to help her.

So Very Tired

I'm tired. S0 very tired. And I hate this.

I hate feeling like this.

I hate that the smallest thing makes me tearful. I've been watching a borrowed set of the only season of FireFly (a kind of sci-fi western) and I cannot tell you how many times I've come close to tears in just the first two discs alone.

And Lord, I'm so crabby it's not even funny. I hate it.

And the worst part of it is... there's only so much I can do about any of it. I've got no health insurance. I can't afford either of my meds (even $10 for the cheapest, for crying out loud). And while I could exercise it won't have the effects won't be as immediate as I would like. Not that restarting my meds would be immediate... if I could have stayed on them...

*sigh*I'm just so very very tired.

(and a little bit sorry for myself, sheesh *rolls eyes*)

“If there is a worse place than hell, I am in it. What shall I do? […] The bottom is out of the tub.”

Preach it, brother Abe. I find it slightly ironic that the above quote comes from a man who also had a history of sever depression and was know at times to have been suicidal. But that is really neither here nor there.


Just one hour shy of nine months no SI. I'd really like to make it to nine months. And ten. And eleven. And a year. Now, realistically speaking I'll more than likely make it to the nine month mark (I can't do just one thing at a time and since I am currently playing around on FaceBook and YouTube it's entirely possible that I will make the nine month mark before I finish this blog entry). That knowledge does not make things any easier, however. Because the reality is is that I desperately want to take that razor blade, the one I've saved for just such a time, and draw it across my wrist. Not to kill myself. I'm not to that point yet. Just to hurt. To bleed. (lord, you would not believe how badly I want that.) And I already feel bad enough. I was already having a hard enough time resisting temptation. It's been some time now since I've had my Wellbutrin and about a week since my last dose of Zoloft. I hate that I'm so dependent on them. I hate that, relatively speaking, it has been such a short time without either of my meds and this is what happens. I go, almost instantly, back in to a depression. I'm exhausted in spite of the fact that I am sleeping, on average, at least 12 hours most days. I hardly eat (which I've actually found beneficial as it seems that avoiding food keeps at least a couple of the withdrawal symptoms at bay). I spend an inordinate amount of time staring vacantly ahead. And now I am faced with yet another difficulty.

How do I do it? How do help her from half a world away? When I know how she's feeling and understand the fear so well, the fear that this time things won't get better. When I have felt the hopelessness myself. When she does not want to hear me. She has already made up her mind, you know. Something like a week to take care of things and then 'everything will be fine'. I tried everything I could think of, what little that was. Mostly I told her that I loved her.

How do I sit helplessly by and watch my friend fall apart and eventually take her own life? How, when I feel this bad already, do I do that and manage to hang on to my own?

I don't talk to people

I'm not ready to actually write this up but I just thought I'd let the next topic out there. It's a revelation of sorts and I am still sorting through it.