being suicidal has changed my life
at least, for the time being. i never took me being “suicidal” as a big deal, or feeling “depressed” as someone who had a serious underlying chemical relation to the disorder. yet, everytime i brought up such ideations to my friends, i would always be met with looks of concern, shock, disbelief and sympathy. i didn't know what the big deal was; after all, i didn't take my emotions seriously, and it showed in the way i would relay and confide my inner struggles and feelings to others. i laughed about ingesting pills, i fantasized about ending my life the day my parents left earth, and i always wondered how those around me would feel once i was gone. i guess taking upwards of 6-9 pills, twice, from august-september are not normal occurrences for the average human being. to me, it was a coping mechanism when i felt like i was at my lowest. it also was, secretly, a suicide attempt in hopes that something would go wrong. sometimes it feels like i exhaust all my attempts at trying; i seek therapy, rock climb, gym, cook, hang out with friends (irl/online), game, and even try to connect more with my family/cousins now. i'm still too sore and hurt to be dating, though. that i have no emotional capacity for and i am still sorry to the one guy i cancelled on. he checked up on me a lot but i didn't even have the emotional capacity to reply to him, hopefully he didn't take it too bad. maybe one day i'll try dating again, but for once, i actually don't think it's in my priority anymore. i'm not as torn up about being single. who'da thunk?
nowadays, i find myself crying – if not tearing up, in daily conversations and experiences that i have. i think for the entirety of september – today, i've cried every single day. today, before i was prescribed antidepressants, i had to fill out a survey of questions that indicated how severe my anxiety and depression were. i already teared off writing my date of birth, knowing that september 8, 1999 was always a date i was proud to tell people i was born, just to now constantly wish i would end that life soon. when asked how i feel about my parents leaving, i'm already tearing up. when thinking about whether or not i'll ever get married, i tear up. when asked if i see myself staying in montreal, i tear up. it's difficult feeling like i have none of the accomplishments i set out for myself, or feeling helpless and immobile in my own life.
i didn't understand the severity of me wanting to end my own life until i walked into my family doctor's office today. i've seen him before, and he's asked me previously if i ever felt suicidal or depressed, and i always shrugged or scoffed and thought, “of course not.” because clinically, i wasn't depressed. being sad about a guy, failing a midterm, or losing friend(s) didn't make me someone with depression. but today, i filled out a survey with 20+ questions that really brought attention to how severe my situation was. from 1-3, with 3 being the most severe, i answered many questions with a 3: feeling suicidal, attempting suicide, no motivation, feeling helpless, trouble sleeping, overthinking, the list goes on... and i've felt that way for a really, really long time. it wasn't until my family doctor made me promise him that i wouldn't kill myself, and if i did, that i was to rush to the ER before taking any impulsive actions. it wasn't until my family doctor told me i was too young to be making decisions like this. it wasn't until i broke down to my own mom about how i felt like i was struggling and failing in my life. it wasn't until i cried in front of my manager about how my mental health has been affecting my work. it wasn't until i finally cried every single hour today, just full on breaking down, that i realized the severity of my situation. that it really hit me that i AM depressed, and that's a serious thing. that i would be upsetting so many people and absolutely crushing them if i killed myself. that i have people cheering me on just for me to flip them off if i killed myself. i didn't understand the severity of my mental health until today, and it's like a wave and current of emotions all hit me at once, like it was goddamn hurricane milton and i was tampa bay, florida.
thankfully, now i'm prescribed celexa. citalopram to be exact. it's supposed to help increase my serotonin levels, and treat not just major depressive disorder but ALSO obsessive compulsive disorder – something i always thought i had but never actually dug into. i have absolutely, and objectively witnessed myself display OCD traits and i suppose it's not another label i want to add to my list. i mean, who wants to tell someone, “hey, i'm irene and i have adhd, bpd, ocd, anxiety and depression, nice to meet you!” cause i sure fucking don't, but it's who i am and i'll learn to be okay with that. i still struggle with trying not to feel like a failure for all that i've done (or failed to do, as my inner monologue would say), but i still think i need to take recovery one step at a time. i can't change things overnight, but i still have little things to look forward to, i guess.