save me

I called C in the middle of the night last night.  (I think it was last night; I’m not doing well keeping track of time.)  It was that or kill myself.  I had the letter all written out, down to the phone numbers of who they should contact once I was dead.  I had the pills.

Talking to her didn’t make me feel better.  I wanted it to, desperately.  Her heart is pure gold, but she said a lot of stupid things you shouldn’t say to someone who’s profoundly suicidal.  I don’t remember all of it, but guilt came into it.  She said she’d been suicidal before and how would I feel if she’d done it?  I said I wouldn’t know her if she had, and you don’t miss someone you never knew.  Someone else would’ve filled her role.  Harsh but true.  I told her I’ve had friends commit suicide, and it sucked–but no more than when I lost a friend in a car accident.  With suicide, at least it was their choice.  At least I could believe that they’re no longer hurting.

She took issue with that, too.  Religious issue.  Nothing specific or dogmatic, more just that “Well, how do you know it wouldn’t lead to more suffering after death?”  I told her I don’t believe that because there’s no rational proof of existence beyond death.  And if there is a god, I cannot believe that he would punish us for taking the only way out we had left.  She tried the “You can’t prove there’s not life beyond death” argument, and I tried to tell her that’s not where the burden of proof lies.  She didn’t listen.  I stopped arguing because it was making me too angry and I wasn’t with it enough to argue coherently.

I still want to die.  I still feel like I have to.  Like there’s no other way.  Like things are only going to get worse and there’s no one who can help me.

C wanted me to go see A today, but we’re having a snowstorm with another foot of snow.  Even if it weren’t for that, I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to get there.  I did talk to her on the phone.  I don’t really remember any of the conversation, but I do remember at least she didn’t say anything stupid that pissed me off.  We talked twice.  I remember her voice but not any of the words.

She and C both mentioned me going back to Sheppard Pratt.  Asked me if I thought I should.  I don’t know.  I probably should, but I don’t want to.  I don’t want to have to deal with any of this shit.  I don’t want to do the work.  I want somebody to just fix me because everything else hurts too much.  At this point, even uncurling my body from the tense ball it wants to be in feels excruciatingly painful.  If I can’t even tolerate the physical act of opening up, how could I survive the emotional act?

I want somebody to save me.  I don’t have the strength to do it for myself.  So where does that leave me?



Filed under Uncategorized

12 responses to “save me

  1. It leaves you in a tough space.
    It sounds trite, but I mean it – take care. I hope writing this post has helped. I trust you to make the best decision for you.
    And though it takes an overwhelming amount of strength to unclench, I hope the investment of energy might be worth it.

  2. It’s too bad C is not able to be any help – it does sound like she is not on top of her own issues enough to be able to be helpful to you. I’m glad you reached out anyway, and to A also. Perhaps if you keep expressing yourself, even just a bit, something in you will shift.

    I am sorry it is so rough. Here listening.

    • Maybe it’ll shift. I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like it right now, but I know that’s not necessarily reality.

      I just feel so alone–the people I have are trying to help, but nothing works.

  3. ((((hugz))) Perhaps Sheppard Prat can “save” you? Not pushing it, I just know that it was brought up… just an idea. I’m thinking of you.

    • No. If I’m going to be saved, I’m the only one who can do it. No one else can do the work for me. But I know I can’t do the work on my own–I need help, but I’m not even sure I have the internal resources to fight anymore.

      • I’m proud of you for recognizing that only you can save yourself, many don’t. But, as you noted, it takes energy to do so, to be brave enough to reach out for help, and maybe even go to the hospital if that is necessary. Still thinking of you…

  4. Just looked up Sheppard Prat. A hard choice I would imagine, but an option not available everywhere. Might you have other choices, smaller programs? So sorry you have so much to consider. Hope you find someone you can trust and relate to soon.

    • It’s the closest residential trauma program to where I live. There just aren’t many treatment programs for people with DID.

      • At least you have it. My state is not well served with beds for mental illnesses period. I was impressed by the Sheppard Prat website but thinking you had had a bad experience there. That is why I raised the question of other facilities. A return stay would not necessarily mean a repeat of those past problems.

  5. I hear ya–my end of the state is poorly served too. Everything’s on the populated end of the state, and everybody forgets we exist out here. (“So, where’s that in relation to Boston?” is what I always hear.)

    My experience at Sheppard Pratt was difficult but overall helpful. I was on their trauma disorders unit, which is designed particularly for people like me. Overall, they get it pretty well. Some staff are clueless idiots, and some of their rules make me want to throw things, but they know how to deal with severe PTSD and dissociative disorders.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s