The aftermath
If you haven't read the spiral down go back and read that blog post before continuing. This is a continuation of my mental health story.
So, I realize I left you all hanging and its been over a year since I shared the last part of this story... I'm feeling compelled to come back to it because I've had quite a few friends find their mental health deteriorating in the past few months. I wanted to remind them that you CAN get through this and there ARE people who care about you and even those who've gone through this before.
So with that, we pick back up at the day after my desire to cease existing...
I woke up the next morning and exhaustedly went in to work at 6 am (even though I thought it was pointless). In those days, working was the only thing that could keep me thinking about something else for more than 30 minutes. It was the only thing that really kept me going during this time. So I worked my shift at the bakery, going through the motions, then I slept away the rest of the day until my appointment with my counselor.
My session started off normally but I came out with it right away. I told her the night before that I had wanted to kill myself. She asked if I had actually tried to (rather than just thinking about it) and I wasn't really sure how to answer... yes? kind of? I wanted to... and I was going to do it... but even in crisis, the rational part of my brain told me to get help.
The poor girl! I can't remember her name now, but I still feel so sad when I think about her reaction to this. It was very likely that I was her first, or one of her first, patients who had "tried to" kill myself while under her counsel. Sometimes, I still think about sifting through my OU emails to find hers to try to let her know that I'm OK now. It's funny the ways guilt comes out in mental health issues.
I was the one in crisis but I felt bad for upsetting her.
Well, she made a plan with me. This basically amounted to writing down the names and numbers of people I could call or reach out to and trust if I felt that way again. These people cared for me and would help me. It sounds simple but it was nice to have the names there staring you in the face. These are people who care about me and would actively do anything within their power to make sure I didn't end up dead. My plan also had some things I could do on my own to help myself feel better; steps I would take if I saw myself going that way again. The session was short and sweet. I know she would have liked it to go longer but she had another person after me. I wasn't an immediate danger to myself or anyone else so she let me go.
Believe me when I say that this moment in my life I lived by one simple motto: One step at a time.
One singular, teeny tiny, step at a time.
That's all I could do.
That's all I could handle.
Even though I still didn't want to exist any more, I kept going. I couldn't possibly think of that anatomy exam coming up, or rent being due, or if I was going to be able to muster the strength to make myself something to eat for dinner later.
It would overwhelm me and consume me. So I returned to the Id. I focused on me and I focused on now.
It took quite a while for me to stop wishing I had gone through with it. But eventually, I was back to "normal", or what had become normal for me. I was still down and not really functioning, but I wasn't actively wishing to be dead. I still wanted to hurt myself sometimes and I still cried a lot, but I sustained myself for the rest of the semester.
I learned some new coping mechanisms.(One of which you can see in the photo- think big Crayola markers drawing where you want to hurt yourself. It gives your hands and brain something to do to distract yourself that doesn't cause damage). I eventually even told my friends that my boyfriend and I had broken up. And I told them about how I had been feeling and what I had been going through. It was nice to realize that other people care for you and want you to get better. More people truly cared than I thought. I vowed to myself that I would go to see my doctor when I got home from school and ask him about other options, like medicine. Because, clearly, what I was doing so far wasn't enough.
That's the aftermath. Next time we'll pick up with going home and going to the doctor.
To be continued...
So, I realize I left you all hanging and its been over a year since I shared the last part of this story... I'm feeling compelled to come back to it because I've had quite a few friends find their mental health deteriorating in the past few months. I wanted to remind them that you CAN get through this and there ARE people who care about you and even those who've gone through this before.
So with that, we pick back up at the day after my desire to cease existing...
I woke up the next morning and exhaustedly went in to work at 6 am (even though I thought it was pointless). In those days, working was the only thing that could keep me thinking about something else for more than 30 minutes. It was the only thing that really kept me going during this time. So I worked my shift at the bakery, going through the motions, then I slept away the rest of the day until my appointment with my counselor.
My session started off normally but I came out with it right away. I told her the night before that I had wanted to kill myself. She asked if I had actually tried to (rather than just thinking about it) and I wasn't really sure how to answer... yes? kind of? I wanted to... and I was going to do it... but even in crisis, the rational part of my brain told me to get help.
The poor girl! I can't remember her name now, but I still feel so sad when I think about her reaction to this. It was very likely that I was her first, or one of her first, patients who had "tried to" kill myself while under her counsel. Sometimes, I still think about sifting through my OU emails to find hers to try to let her know that I'm OK now. It's funny the ways guilt comes out in mental health issues.
I was the one in crisis but I felt bad for upsetting her.
Well, she made a plan with me. This basically amounted to writing down the names and numbers of people I could call or reach out to and trust if I felt that way again. These people cared for me and would help me. It sounds simple but it was nice to have the names there staring you in the face. These are people who care about me and would actively do anything within their power to make sure I didn't end up dead. My plan also had some things I could do on my own to help myself feel better; steps I would take if I saw myself going that way again. The session was short and sweet. I know she would have liked it to go longer but she had another person after me. I wasn't an immediate danger to myself or anyone else so she let me go.
Believe me when I say that this moment in my life I lived by one simple motto: One step at a time.One singular, teeny tiny, step at a time.
That's all I could do.
That's all I could handle.
Even though I still didn't want to exist any more, I kept going. I couldn't possibly think of that anatomy exam coming up, or rent being due, or if I was going to be able to muster the strength to make myself something to eat for dinner later.
It would overwhelm me and consume me. So I returned to the Id. I focused on me and I focused on now.
It took quite a while for me to stop wishing I had gone through with it. But eventually, I was back to "normal", or what had become normal for me. I was still down and not really functioning, but I wasn't actively wishing to be dead. I still wanted to hurt myself sometimes and I still cried a lot, but I sustained myself for the rest of the semester.
I learned some new coping mechanisms.(One of which you can see in the photo- think big Crayola markers drawing where you want to hurt yourself. It gives your hands and brain something to do to distract yourself that doesn't cause damage). I eventually even told my friends that my boyfriend and I had broken up. And I told them about how I had been feeling and what I had been going through. It was nice to realize that other people care for you and want you to get better. More people truly cared than I thought. I vowed to myself that I would go to see my doctor when I got home from school and ask him about other options, like medicine. Because, clearly, what I was doing so far wasn't enough.
That's the aftermath. Next time we'll pick up with going home and going to the doctor.
To be continued...
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