I never intended for this to become a personal blog, but I like having this corner of the internet (that people stumble over while looking for FFXIII smut) to write about what matters. I’ll cut to the chase: On January 19th, 2015 I was hospitalized for my own safety because I knew I was going to kill myself. I was treated for a couple days, then released. On January 29th I attempted suicide.
What happened: I woke up at around 06:30 to my alarm to get ready for class, was feeling beyond terrible, and it went downhill from there. I don’t know why but I (uncharacteristically) began drinking at around 0700. I got a text from a family member, didn’t read it- but somehow I felt worse. Then I read an interpretation the ending of ‘Kill la Kill’ that cast it in a depressing light, and that didn’t help. I thought of facing the world again, and that just piled on the pressure. All the while I was taking swigs of Jack Daniels. By 09:00 I had downed about a quarter of a litre (and I’m not a heavy drinker) and as the sunlight poured in I kept having this urge, this voice, my brain kept challenging me to commit suicide. I realized that my plan to kill myself always involved beginning with downing all the diazepam that I had (of which I’d been using every day as a way to cope, and a way to feel some kind of pleasure), but that I could start drinking first, then down a fistful of it, then keep drinking and that’d make dying easier, and possibly more fun. So in the middle of spouting off frantic texts to people, attempting a phone call to my therapist, and losing my mind, sometime at around 11:25 (I’m looking up the timestamps on my phone) I held approximately 18 diazepam 5mg to my mouth and asked myself if I wanted to die. The answer came back yes, I threw it into my mouth, and in a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget- I started drinking it down.
Half-heartedly. I was still fighting myself. And I wonder if that part of me that wanted to live wasn’t fighting, what would have happened if I swallowed harder. Because as it was, when I felt it slide down my throat the part that wanted to live took one final try to save myself- and I immediately induced vomiting to cough most of it up. At which point I called 911, while still drinking, and that led to the story I wrote earlier.
Since then I’ve been assigned a psychiatrist at the hospital who I see once a week, and a case worker who I meet with regularly. This is on top of my therapist, and a person who helps with accommodations at my university. My medication was immediately changed, I was given a mood stabilizer, and a few days later had to deal with benzoine withdrawal, that was softened somewhat by medication- but I was put out of commission for five days. It’s finally out of my system, and today I took the last dose I think I’ll ever have of that kind of drug, the last smaller dosage meant to ease my system off of it.
While I’m finally receiving treatment, I still ask myself every day if life is worth living- or what I’m living for. Myself and my family were able to talk about matters, and come to an understanding which I feel was a long time coming, and that was good. The medication, while tranquilizing, has helped me sleep (for weeks I woke up around five times a night) and that’s helpful. Things are changing, and that’s good- because this wasn’t a sudden thing. Over the last two years I went from contemplating suicide, to acting on it. I think the mental image of knocking back those pills is going to be with me for a while, coupled with the fact that I did so trying to kill myself. I stopped myself shortly thereafter, but that doesn’t change the fact that I was at the point where the attempt was as genuine as my aborting it.
The future for Resonance Frequency: Over the past few weeks I’ve been playing through Dark Souls, and when I’m able to I’ll finish it. I’m doing so because I wanted to include a feature on this site where I look at the media which other people love, and why they love it, but to go beyond a simple interview and instead experience that media for myself before discussing it with others. This is a way to expose myself to media I would never have experienced otherwise, and puts a more interesting spin on simply asking why someone loves what they do- I want to at least experience a part of it, and see if I can understand it on a level. This feature is something that has been stalled for some time while I pick myself back up, but I feel it’s worthwhile.
If you had any input on this idea, I’d love to hear it actually. I’m curious what people think. And I’m putting together a tentative list of novels, films, games, you name it to work through. It’s likely going to be slow going as my brain is kinda friend and dealing with an existential crisis at the moment- but I feel at least that it’s worth exploring.
I would also like to write more on Kill la Kill, and discuss The Legend of Korra in light of my belief that mature themes have their place in young-adult entertainment (likely focusing on the fascism and trauma aspects, rather than Korra’s sexuality as there’s been enough said on that already). I’m also considering writing on what I believe Nineteen-Eighty Four is actually about (O’Brien), and how that novel made me want to be a writer. George Orwell lit the writing spark in me, the one that Jacqueline Carey later doused in gasoline.
Basically, I’ve never known what I want this site to be. I still lean on a place that examines the good that media does, especially in enriching and aiding people’s lives. I just feel like while my take on things are good, I’d like to expand outwards. Examine other people’s perspectives.
The future for me: I’m wondering if this can help give me direction right now. I’m still having to deal with the fact that I tried to kill myself, and if it’s not obvious by now- I really have no idea how to process that. I think it’s going to be slow going, but it’s happening. I’m at least writing this stream of consciousness.
I need to find a way to feel pleasure, genuine pleasure, as it’s becoming certain that I’ll never regain the ability to feel sexual pleasure again. I’ve changed my diet, and started drinking tea- something that was served to me at every meal during my stay in hospital. Tea was something that after finishing my meal, I’d curl up on my hospital bed and sit with that hot plastic mug and sip on it for hours while thinking about everything. I rearranged my furniture. I indulged in the apex of consumerism, a true rarity for me: I went into an Apple store for the first time ever, spent five minutes looking for the desk before realizing there was none, found one of those Apple elves and bought a ridiculously expensive but blazing fast and gorgeous laptop (my heart tensed- the shock of seeing the receipt, softened by knowing a lot of it was covered by someone else, a gift from a few years of missed gifts, but I am not accustomed to spending that much money on anything ever- even if it’s a lovely machine). I have changed my diet. All the while it feels like things have shifted under the surface itself.
I’m also less anxious about things, possibly from the medication, but maybe because I’ve at least accepted the fact that I tried to kill myself, and am meeting many times a week with people who are providing support of various kinds. My degree may be delayed again, but when I’m well I’ll look for part-time work in the interim while still taking some classes. That’s the goal.
I’d like to note that my friends have been beyond supportive, and one even cooked me dinner which is one of the nicest things someone’s done for me. So I have a good support network in place, I just worry that it’s been strained as this saga has gone on for a few weeks- even if I know that it had been set-up over the past couple years.
I just- need something worth living for. I need to find things which bring me pleasure, because there are so few. That’s always been what I love from the media that I love, it helps me and does bring some to my life.
Right now, while I don’t want to kill myself, I can’t bring myself to say that I think life is truly worth living. I’m standing, but not on solid ground. I honestly don’t know what’s in store, or what the future will bring- it feels like this change has also swept away a lot of the old, but I haven’t figured out what to place in its stead. I don’t know what solid ground looks like yet. I think then, that for my immediate future, I’m going to need to discover things which bring me true pleasure (and there are many kinds of pleasure), and take the time to rebuild after so much was destroyed. But hey, I’m a girl with a phoenix tattooed on her chest, the cycle of death and rebirth is in my nature- I’m just struggling because this depressive cycle was nearly lethal. Maybe it had to happen- but that doesn’t chance the fact that I’m going to need time to regenerate.