I get all manner of comments here and many of them scrape against my bones. Because I know these people. Because I know their brains. Because I am these people.
Sometimes people think because I write or advocate or win awards I am not them, but it is precisely because I am them that I can do these things. It is precisely because I feel their desperation that I can truly write about it. One does write what they know, after all.
On November 7th, I received this comment:
…these messages… show(s) how many people can interact with other people and lead a normal life for the most part… I’ve always either been alone or only had one friend. I have family, but I keep them at arm’s length. Even as I sit here and write this, there is no one near enough to me that if I shot myself it’d be noticed. It really makes me wonder how disturbed I’ve become after all this time… As a child, I was heavily medicated for a series of issues including manic depressive bipolar, and what was described to me as a “slight case of psychotia.” Then, at the start of my high school years, I quit my medication because… I felt wrong on what ever cocktail I tried. Now, I’m 23. I live locked away in a small room, away from the world. You keep saying there’s a light, but I’ve been here in this hole in excess for 4 years now with no light. Where’s mine?
Exx. The Forever Lost
Exx. The Forever Lost, This is For You
A Horrific History
I, too, don’t have a stellar history from a young age up until, well, now. But I didn’t start really getting treatment until 21. Granted, no one ever mentioned a slight case of “psychotia”, but one wonders how accurate that is in any case.
Since I was twelve, I have had off and on (mostly on) periods of:
- Suicidal ideation
- Suicidal gestures
- Mixed mood episodes
And since I was twelve I have had
- Group therapy
- 40 + medications
And probably stuff I have forgotten.
I’m not suggesting we’re the same, but I’m suggesting you’re not alone. Some of us get dealt very nasty, gritty, horrific hands.
No One Would Know if I Died
And just like you, I live alone, in a tiny room, and if I died right now it would take weeks for anyone to notice. (Although to be fair, I have a new therapist and she might do something if I didn’t show up for an appointment.)
Yes, really me, paragliding.
I know your life has felt interminably long. Mine too. But I’m 32. I made it here. I waded through the muck and made it here. And between 23 and 32, I:
- Did 150 skydives
- Became a licensed SCUBA diver
- Became a paraglider pilot
- Paraglided in Venezuela
- Fell in love (and had my heart broken)
- Did a bunch of things that aren’t appropriate for a family-friendly site
Life is long. Things happen. When you’re not paying attention. Change is.
I didn’t do these things because of magic or miracle; I did these things because during the short periods of normalcy I’ve experienced, I’ve grabbed life and swung it by the tail. I did these things because whether you know it today or not, there will be periods that will be better. Better than today.
There is Darkness for Me Too
And let me let you in on a little secret – I don’t believe it’s going to get any better for me either. I feel like it’s all over. I feel no hope at all. I sat in my therapist’s office yesterday talking about suicide.
But you see, I’m wrong. I’m wrong, I’m wrong, I’m wrong. I know that whether I can see it or not, there is a tiny light hidden away safe from even the gigantic insanity of me.
You Have the Light Too
So you see, you’re not alone. You’re just like me. You’re just like other people out there. You think there is nothing for you. You think there is only darkness. But you are wrong. Just like I am wrong.