Going Incommunicado for a Bit

I’m going to be going into the psych hospital again in a few hours… The depression and psychosis has become too much to handle. I need to get my medication straight faster than is possible in an outpatient setting. My class at the community college starts on the 27th of this month. Sometimes, I end up being in the hospital for 2 weeks. I need to be “fixed” in time to start my class. I need to be able to go to class and not be psychotic and suicidal every day.

It’s not just the psychosis, though. The depression is out of control at this point. In combination with the demons, it’s become life or death, literally. Unfortunately…

It’s not just not taking my meds anymore, although that is still an intermittent issue. The demons are extremely insistent, at this point, that I deserve to die, for multiple reasons that I am not going to repeat. They are commanding that I go to the cliff. The cliff is the ultimate plan of suicide for me. A particular cliff. I have my reasons for that specific one… they aren’t really important. I’m having a strong urge to just drive by the cliff on my way to the hospital… I know that’s a stupid thing to do, but that’s what my brain is telling me to do.

So I’m going to go to my morning AA meeting at 7:30 am, and then call the hospital admissions and start the process of getting an assessment for inpatient. With this hospital, you call, answer a few questions over the phone, set up a time that you will be able to get there, and then get there for the assessment. They are going to take my phone so I won’t be able to post anything while I’m in the hospital. Hence the incommunicado…

See you on the other side…

The picture below is something I drew while I couldn’t sleep last night. I drew it on my Wacom Bamboo Slate. I’m just now learning how to use it. I like it so far…


My insurance did it. My time with PHP is over tomorrow. I’m completely not ready. I wasn’t able to take my meds until 4:30 pm, after taking two doses of Thorazine and one dose of my antianxiety medicine. I was at least able to take them, by myself at that.

I just don’t understand how the insurance can make them discharge me from PHP and put me in IOP (intensive outpatient program), which is less days for less hours, when I am still having trouble taking my meds by myself, when I’m still having severe psychosis nearly 24 hrs a day, when I am still suicidal with a plan and having some intent to act on that plan on a daily basis. How can the insurance think that I’ll do better in a less intensive program? With less support? I won’t have the nurse to help me with my meds anymore. That’s going to be all on me, if I can make myself take them. That’s a big if at this point… I don’t want to go back to the hospital, but it seems like that’s what may end up happening if I can’t figure out how to take my meds regularly and let them do their job. The meds haven’t had a chance to build up in my system enough to work, or to see if they are going to work. I’m just so tired of feeling this depressed and suicidal all the time… I wish I could give up… I wish I could just do it, sometimes…

The only thing that keeps me from acting on the suicidal thoughts is my friends. I can’t do that to them. At least right now… Right now, my friends and their feelings and reactions are enough to keep me putting one foot in front of the other, even though I’m completely miserable on a daily basis.

The plan, as of right now, is to step down into day IOP. That program is Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 10 am to 1 pm. I have been going Monday through Friday from 10 am to 3 pm, for PHP. Day IOP is supposedly more open processing, and less teaching than the PHP, which should be okay. I know I can’t just stop going to group altogether. I need to step down into an IOP. One of the only good parts of stepping down is going less days a week and having more time to do things and have appointments and such. I’ve been feeling like a chicken with its head cut off lately, running from one thing to the next, with no breaks in between. I actually completely blanked on individual therapy today, which I was supposed to have after PHP. I just headed straight to the NA clubhouse to read my book and chill for a bit and completely forgot I had the appointment with her.

So, as of right now, I go to PHP tomorrow and they will let me know when I start IOP. That is, if my insurance is willing to cooperate and give me more days for IOP… I hate the bureaucracy of the medical system in this country. I hate insurance being able to dictate what kind of help a person deserves and is able to get. I hate that everything is so damned expensive, that we need insurance to get by. So, I go to PHP tomorrow, and just wait and see what happens next…

And now… I’m off to bed. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, and even though it is only 8:40 pm, I’m calling it quits on this day. I have had it for the day. I can’t take anything else today, even from my own brain. The demons are screaming at me to self harm and kill myself. They want to see blood and pain and suffering. They want me to hurt. They don’t understand that I’m already hurting, every effing day. This depression is killing me, slowly. I don’t need them screaming at me too.

A Little Update, Some Deep Stuff

I don’t even really know what I want to say… I know I want to say something, though. I want to spill my guts, just talk into cyberspace, pretend that because it’s on the computer no one will actually see or read the words on this page. But I don’t know what to say or where to start, really.

I’ve been in PHP (partial hospitalization program) since July 3rd. An entire month now. They haven’t even brought up a possible discharge date yet. I know insurance will spring it on them last minute, that they aren’t going to cover it anymore, and the patient only has one more day in those cases sometimes. I hope mine doesn’t do that, I need time to prepare. Plus, I don’t feel ready to be done with PHP yet.

I’m still feeling extremely depressed, and having suicidal thoughts nearly every day. The doctor at PHP has added a second antidepressant, and recently raised the dosage of that one. Hopefully, it will start to work soon. I hate that psych meds take so long to start working. I need relief from these symptoms, sooner rather than later, and all I can really do is sit and wait while the medication builds up in my system. I am so tired of being depressed. I am tired of wanting to die. There’s this paradox to it, I want to die, but I don’t want to die, at the same time. It’s the second part that has kept me here… that second part is more about my friends than it is about me, in all truthfulness. I just plain won’t do that to them. At this point in time, at least. For now, they are enough to keep me going day to day. For now…

I’m having psychosis every day, as well, to the point that sometimes they seem too real to be hallucinations. I’ve had moments where I really, truly believed that the things I am seeing and hearing are really there. The hallucinations, the demons as I typically refer to them, have been telling me to do things, things that I don’t really want to do. Things like self harm and suicide. Sometimes, however, I do listen to them and act on the lesser of the evils they are commanding of me, even though I don’t want to do it, it shuts them up for a period of time. I get silence for a little while.

Even with the medications, I haven’t had silence in a long time. Silence is something that has eluded me for most of this past year. I am nearing my limit, the limit of what I can handle, what I’m willing to handle.

The demons have been telling me that the medications are going to turn me into one of them, also. Which makes it hard for me to take them. During the week, the nurse at PHP has been helping me take my meds in the morning. All my psych meds are in the morning, and those are the only ones that I’m having trouble taking; I can take my medical meds with no problems. The weekends are another story. Yesterday, I was able to take them but immediately had an insanely strong urge to throw up. I was only able to keep the meds down for about 5 minutes. Today, I’ve only been able to take a Thorazine. At least, so far. It’s getting a little late to take them, though. I tried taking the Thorazine, hoping that it would make it easier to take the rest of them once it started to kick in, but my plan didn’t really work too well. I’ve managed to keep the Thorazine down, however, so that should count for something.

I don’t know, I’ve just gotten to this point where I am so freaking tired… tired of the symptoms, tired of fighting, tired of everything. I have PHP in the morning, and I don’t even want to go… I always feel just a little better once I’m there, but I want to just not go and spend the day sulking in bed, isolating. I’ll probably still go, though. Because I’m supposed to, because I’m expected to be there. Because I always do what is expected of me…

The Promise of AA

I self harmed last night, and landed myself in the ER yet again. This time, they had me on suicide watch while I was there. I had someone sitting with me the entire time. The doctor had me talk with the social worker before I was allowed to leave. He was concerned about the fact that I was actively hallucinating and that the demons were/are telling me to self harm. I should take a thorazine, but I would be falling asleep in the middle of PHP if I do. There’s not enough caffeine in the world to keep me awake through a thorazine.

One thing the social worker at the ER said, which I’ve never been told before, is I can come to the ER before I self harm, tell them that the demons are telling me to self harm and I don’t want to, and they will put me in a bed until I feel safe enough to leave. She said they could even give me a PRN medication to help with the demons. She promised, as long as I’m coherent, and not a danger to myself or others, they would let me leave eventually. They know me at that ER. They have extensive notes on how I usually present, and can compare my current presentation to the notes from previous visits, where I was allowed to leave. She assured me that if I present in the same state as I did this morning, that I would be able to leave at some point, when I feel safe again. She would rather I come in before I self harm and wait out the urge in the ER, than come in for sutures again in another week.

“When an alcoholic’s brain tells them to do something harmful to themselves… like drink… they listen to it. The promise of AA is that we can take those ideas less seriously, and what our greater power thinks more seriously.” – my sponsor

I was texting with my sponsor this morning and he said this in the course of the conversation.

We were talking about the self harm and the trip to the ER. When he said “drink,” my brain read “cut.” It was like I didn’t even see the word “drink.” The promise of AA… I can use the program to help myself with the self harm and use the steps and my greater power to help myself move beyond the self harm.

If only I can remember that in the moment… I can never remember the coping skills I have been taught over the years, in the moment. I can never remember to reach out to my support system, in the moment. All I can think of, in the moment, is the self harm urge and what it will do for me if I go through with it.

My sponsor is the best. He always knows what to say at the right time. I needed to hear exactly what he said this morning. I don’t have to listen to the idea that drinking or cutting is a good idea. I don’t have to go through with it just because my brain is saying that it is a good idea. Over time, the ideas will become less serious to me and I can become closer to my greater power’s wants and ideas. I can learn, over time, what my greater power wants from me and learn to do that instead.

That is the promise of AA.

The Sun and the Moon

Death should be easy.

It should be painless.

It should be a blessing

That comes to those

Who truly want it.


Death shouldn’t be a punishment.

It shouldn’t be something to fear.

It shouldn’t be this thing

That is held over

One’s head.


I wish for death.

I wish for the pain to end.

I wish I could sleep

And never wake again;

For forever slumber.


Every time the sun rises,

I have this feeling of dread.

Another day I have to face,

Another day I have to survive,

Another day death eludes me.


As the moon rises,

Death calls to me again.

The call is stronger

While the moon is shining.

I have no idea why…


And the sun rises again…

And the moon appears once more…

Over and over.

The call of death

Is ever present in my life.


This cry of death,

It’s so romantic to me.

The idea of the end of my life

Seems so splendid to me

That I can hardly resist the thought.


Resistance is an elusive idea…

Why do I even try?

Why would I resist

The call of death

When it is all I truly desire?


Is it for them?

My friends?

Is it the love they have

For me that keeps me going?

Or the pain it would inflict on them?


The cry of death is strongest

While everyone else

Is sleeping…

When I have no one…

No one to call on to walk me through the pain.


While the sun is nearby,

I gather strength

From it’s mighty rays.

The light energizes some need

To put one foot in front of the other.


When the sun disappears

And the moon returns,

I lose my will to live.

I lose sight of the “why” of the fight.

I lose myself.


The moon brings out the pain.

The moon brings on the need.

It brings the need for eternal sleep.

People sleep when the moon

Is in the sky, after all.


This desire for death,

This call of oblivion,

Has always been there.

At least it seems

I have always felt this way.


I know no different.

I know no other reality.

The call of death,

The desire for extinction of my lifeforce,

Will it ever leave me?


Will I ever be happy?

I’d settle for content…

Hell, I’d accept just relief.

Anything is better than wishing for death

Every time I see the moon.


Don’t misunderstand me…

The call of the darkness

Is ever present,

Even while the sun is shining bright as fire.

The craving doesn’t set with the moon.


The bonfire only burns hotter

When the stars are watching.

The sparks fly and singe the hairs on my arms

As I sit too close

Breathing in the smoke of my craziness.


I’m acutely aware this line of reasoning,

This wanting death so desperately

That my soul hurts with a pain that never ceases,

Is not normal.

That it’s pathological.


But it’s my normal.

The fascination with death,

The obsession with it, really,

It’s all I know and have known

For as long as I can remember.


I want to die.

I want to be dead.

I want my life to end.

I want to leave this world,



The question that remains,

And I visited this briefly…

Why am I still here?

If death calls to me so powerfully,

Why have I not answered?


The answer to that query

Lies beyond me.

It lies beyond this earth.

It lies among the sun

And with the moon.


There is something bigger,

Keeping me alive,

Keeping me here,

For some plan that is beyond my comprehension.

And I have to accept that I will pass in it’s time, not mine.

And another seizure…

As the title suggests, I had another one. Last night, around 10 pm. Even though, logically, I know the body goes into protection mode when it has a seizure, my brain started telling me that I would have another seizure and stop breathing in my sleep. It scared the living daylights out of me, to the point where I forced myself to stay awake all night. I couldn’t stop obsessing over the thought that I would stop breathing. I couldn’t make my brain stop or move to a different thought.

It’s almost 6 am, and I haven’t slept. Energy drinks and coffee will be my friend today… I’m actually working on my 4th cup of coffee at the moment. Just sitting on the front porch, enjoying the breeze. I spent most of the night writing. In my journal and also free writing, a poem of sorts. I’ll post it here once I get it typed up. Possibly later today or tomorrow. It ended up being 4 pages long in my composition book… I usually don’t write that much when I write poetry, I just kept going. The words just kept coming. It was strange.

The depression is still ever present. And it’s still very much debilitating. All I want is to leave this world at times. The fantasy of how I would achieve that end enters my mind and sometimes refuses to leave. I can’t force the image of where and how to go away even though I try my damnedest. When I say it is all I want, it is. But I do have reasons to stay. I have my friends. I have goals. I have ambitions.

And I believe, in my heart and soul, that even if I were to try, if it’s not my time to go, I will not go. There may be consequences for that attempt, and I may not be able to live with those consequences.

I fully believe that there is a reason I have survived my previous attempts. I am supposed to do something or meet someone or help someone with something. I don’t know what kind of impact my life can have on those around me and I don’t know what kind of impact my death would have on those left behind either. I would not be able to bear the burden of knowing that one of my friends hurt themselves because of something I did. When someone knows a person who dies by suicide, they have a higher chance of attempting suicide themselves. It’s a statistical fact.

I already hate seeing the looks on the faces of my friends when they see marks from self harm on my arms. The pain in their eyes is torture to me. I saw it yesterday in my friend Ray’s eyes… He tried to brush it off with a joke; “Do you always stitch yourself up?” But I could see the torment that he felt when he saw the cut with the sutures. That hurt. I wish I could hide it from them. Living in Texas during the summer months makes that impossible. It’s either wear short sleeves and have the marks be visible for the world to see or wear a sweater in July and have them not see but know anyway.theres no other reason that I would be wearing a sweater in July.

The only solution is to stop altogether. I know that is what you are thinking… It’s not that easy. I have tried and am trying. I haven’t cut since the early morning hours of the 11th. Which for me is amazing, actually. I have had some nervous picking at scabs that haven’t healed (because I keep picking at them) and a little punching and head banging. But I haven’t done anything that has left permanent damage to my body since the 11th. That is major progress for me.

In PHP, we set goals on Mondays. My physical goal for this week is no cutting or burning. At all. We use the SMART goal model. Specific, measurable, attainable, realistic, and timely. So for specific, I specified cutting and burning. Measurable, I said none for the week. Attainable, it will be difficult but it is possible. Realistic, it is something I have done before. And timely means if there a timeframe for the goal. I specified an end day of Friday. I only have to maintain the no cutting and burning through Friday for the goal. One thing about not self harming for me, I like seeing my arm without injuries. I like seeing a clean arm. It gives me hope for the future, in a way, hope that I can keep away from the self harm.

Well, it’s 6:30 am. I usually leave around this time to go to an AA meeting before PHP. I’m gonna go get ready to go.

Life and Death Questions

Why do I constantly feel this way?

Why does it never end?

Why do I always have to pay?

Why does my life feel like pretend?

When will I finally be happy?

When will the pain take flight?

When will the world finally see?

When will I not want to die?

What is the point of life anyhow?

What can the purpose be?

What is the point of fighting now?

What can be done to save me?

Where is the solace in this pain?

Where is my rescuer hiding?

Where can I escape the rain?

Where can I hide from the lightning?

Who has listened close enough to see?

Who has even heard my song?

Who will try to find me?

Who will miss me when I’m gone?

A Lot Going On

My life has been hectic as of late… I’ve had three trips to the psychiatric hospital since Spring, the last one being in June. I was released on the 30th. I am currently in a partial hospitalization program at a local hospital. I’m still struggling with depression, suicidal thought, and psychosis. I’m also having a lot of dissociative symptoms and “spacing out” daily. Sleep has been an issue, as well. The night of July 4th, I didn’t sleep at all because the psychotic symptoms kept me awake all night, and Sunday night I didn’t sleep as well. I took a nap yesterday for 5 hours, and woke up at 9 pm, which meant I couldn’t sleep last night either. As I’m typing this, I’ve been awake since that nap.

I also had another pseudoseizure last night around 2 am. I was sitting at my computer desk watching television, and then I was on the floor, unable to move, and still shaking. They are terrifying when they happen. I’ve only had three seizures in my life and would prefer to never have another. Pseudoseizures are like regular seizures but don’t show up in the brain like epilepsy. The brain waves are normal, to my understanding. That is how they diagnose them as “pseudo” rather than regular seizures. They are typically caused by increased stress or psychological symptoms, and usually coincide with PTSD, schizophrenia, depression, and/or anxiety. All of which I am diagnosed with…

I am not looking forward to going to PHP today. I’m worried that they will want to send me to the ER because of the seizure, and I really don’t think I need to go. I’m going to call my neurologist first thing in the morning and leave a message for her. I have an appointment with her in September already, although she may want to see me earlier now. I also see my primary care physician next week, so that may appease the PHP therapist and nurse. Hopefully, at least.

As far as my psychological symptoms are concerned… I’m having increased depression that is leading to suicidal thoughts and auditory and visual hallucinations of demons. The demons are telling me to do things that are not healthy or good for me to do. They want me to self harm and every now and then will tell me I need to die. They aren’t telling me to kill myself, just that I would be better off dead. Does that make sense? I hope so…

My narcissistic mother has actually been pretty decent lately. She hasn’t been as demanding as she normally is. I think she is compensating and adjusting her behavior because of my hospitalizations. I’m not complaining in the slightest. It’s nice to get a break from being treated like a slave 24 hours a day.

I think that all I have for this update. I hope y’all are well and enjoying your day! Take care!

Just Another Day

the sun sets on the day

just another day really

nothing special happened

nothing out of the ordinary

a day like any other day

except it wasn’t

to her

it was a horrendous day

couldn’t have been worse

nothing could have

made this day

any more


than it was already

even though nothing happened

nothing special

nothing different

nothing extraordinary

just another day

but on this day

she wanted to die

she wanted to die so terribly

that she could feel it in her bones

she could feel it in each strand of hair

from the top of her head

to the tips of her toes

the desire to die

was so strong

it was consuming her every waking moment

the thoughts of how and when

and who would find her

how they would react

who she wants to have her things

who to apologize to beforehand

and who to say sorry to in her note

who would cry when they found out

and who would just be angry

these thoughts keep bouncing

in and out

‘round and ‘round

all over the place

all the time

she worries about her friends

and the people she’ll be

leaving behind

but they aren’t enough

to keep her soul firmly planted

within her body and her brain

she worries that they will hate her

for what she has done

and never forgive her

but it’s something that must be done

she is past the point of no return

she is too miserable to keep going

too tired to keep fighting

too worn to keep trying

the fight is over

this day will be her end


~Emily Love