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| light bulb goes 0n |
2/3/2019
saw video at
Veritas Studios in Los Angeles, CA
with Tom Morillo [(genius guitar)] and Friends
with
SAVE Suicide Prevention Organization
https://www.facebook.com/TomMorello/videos/2256635344584316
(fecebook
pains me, but...)
and this intense music video
song:
Every Step I Take
https://nearest.tm00.com/tnewsm1/Artists/TomMorello/output/mp4/output_EveryStepThatITake_Official.mp4
Thank you for this for all us folks out there (me included) who
must never try to take their own lives even especially by accident.
In my humble opinion and what has been the best bet for me personally, is to
not do any Prescription Drugs nor especially no drinking of alcohol AND ESPECIALLY NOT SIMULTANEOUSLY, ok anyone this may apply to?
Please. I beg of any of you.
And any feeling that you want to die is like ... IT always passes and you will eventually feel better. Please.
2/4 update
Blogspot now seems to republish posts that I update with the new date of republish. I wish I could just edit without republishing, but here goes. Edit:
This is just my personal survival story. If you are taking drugs and they are helping you do NOT be influenced by my story urging NO MEDICATION, please. Do whatever You have to To Survive, and to Not Get Suicidal, or Suicided, and to Not Succumb to the suicidal thoughts that may try to haunt you.
Remember, please, to actively fight any sadness, anger and depression you may react to, at the bad things that happen to and in this World against us human beings, which seem to be exponentially escalating. It WILL turn around. Please, do what you must to protect yourself from the pain of knowing what this world can be about. Because truthfully, as much evil is out there, there is the other side, which is joy, beauty, nature, human ingenuity, creativity and YOU. Bare knuckle grit teeth the roller coaster rides. Focus on the good to heal your heart and mind from the bad. Fine, be aware, as much as you want, but remember to enjoy every minute of the gift of life that has been given to you, please. I beg you to not be self-destructive.
So here's how I remember that terrible day. It was three months after corrective surgery to a naval hernia. The pain had come on for years but had now escalated impossibly in the last three. The surgery seemed successful. I was and am so grateful. I have been told to not rip at my stitches, to not be macho any more. To take it easy for the rest of my life. That seemed a death sentence to me at that time, but it is in fact NOT. I can focus on the wonder and beauty of my life, which I must create myself. I am eternally grateful for still being alive. I am terribly sorry I tried to take my own life, after being so successful at denying the constant medically induced suicidal ideation I suffered from and stayed in Denial Of,
while taking prescription psychotropic pill cocktails to
not be so bipolar, so I could work. But really, if I had just had a chance somehow, which I did not if fact have, to be supported by others financially in such a way that I did not have to work, then I would not have had to be on pills for 2 decades. It was me who insisted on trying to be independent, which I was in fact not, I was dependent on my Mom, and on employers so I could try to stay independent. The economy had other ideas for the world. Complicated and embarrassing.
Music break: Robbie Robertson & crew's song: Ghost Dance
I was in a foul mood, coming home, being selfish and a baby not getting everything I want, my cake and to eat it too kind of thing. I can be a real immature jerk sometimes, which I am trying to grow up out of. Ok. So we get home, put away the supplies and I was real anxious about realizing that I had to get with the program of no social life to speak of. No personal friends. Which, by rights, is partly my fault, because of my bizarre behavior, and Protection issues. Keep Me Away From The Whitecoats. Truth here.
So for a week, I had been taking a little bit of an anti-anxiety drug which the name escapes me now, but it was I think Lorezapam for two weeks at that point. I was taking the lowest doses possible. Meanwhile, I was using a little bit of alcohol, trying to be like my dad, sticking to two tiny glasses of wine at night equaling one glass of wine. Truthfully, I was slowly and kind of secretly falling off that bandwagon.
I hate to admit this, but at that time, the drug alcohol has helped me tremendously, but also as much as it has helped, the way I use it is not good, and it becomes a curse. For me, alcohol is always a slippery slope. So because of the syndrome I have developed over the years of 'bipolar' disorder (to give it ITs label,) and my own addictive personality issues, I must personally abstain from alcohol for the rest of my life at this point forward. I can not consistently drink responsibly proven by my history. It is hard, and not really as time goes on, but I must stay sober from alcohol for life. Quit date 4/1/2018, no fooling.
See, it's true that if you have a drink or two and keep it at that level, it can in fact be used ceremoniously and be healthy for some people. However, I personally do not have the discipline to sustain that.
Ok, so I helped put supplies away and was not hungry to feed myself, just selfish and pissed off, and since I had been taking those pills a little bit to help cope with anxiety for the previous two weeks, while using alcohol at the same time, secretly, I was on the slippery slope of danger. I stole two beers, came into my room, shut the curtain and sucked back the first beer in about two gulps with one tiny little Lorezapam. I was expecting to feel better but in fact did not. The holidays were near and I was also upset thinking about how I screwed up so bad recently and all my life with those I am supposed to care for, not just love, my family, friends, etc.
The pill with the first beer I had stolen and snuck in my room did not fix my anxiety. Self-hatred set in. I sucked the other beer down and took another pill. Honestly, the rest of it seems like a bad dream. I lost control. I blacked out awake. My actions were not my own. My old self-destructive childishness took over. I found out when I woke at the hospital, that I had systematically taken every last Prescription drug pill left in my stash.
Thank god, I have no more prescription medication to speak of. What little I have left, my Companion has agreed to hide from me. Thank god for him, oh my god, please.
I used to have an arsenal of prescription drugs to get through work, my dubious history which I did not want to face, etc., but had already photographed and buried the deadly things the Rx T-rex I call the pills, legal as they are, because I could not find a way to dispose of them in the incinerator at the hospital. That is the least toxic way that we knew of at that point to dispose of prescription drugs.
The local Dartmouth Hitchcock Hospital told me that they did not do that for the public, apparently, incinerate old prescription medications, because I kept calling them and they kept blowing me off. I had learned that this was the best way to keep discarded prescription pills out of the waste stream. If you flush them, they go directly into the water and contaminate the water table. But burying any pills is just as bad if not worse (see LEED Certification from working at the beloved Hospitals for a Healthy Environment, (H2E)
, Health Care Without Harm.) But I was so desperate to get rid of them and stop carrying them around year after year. I did not want to give them to the pharmacies because they would just throw them in the trash, which is bad contamination of the eventual soil, which goes directly into the water table. They are buried, gone from me but beared by the soil I buried them in.
Except I still had a stash of prescription pills to try to stay stable and not get psychotic over time if I lost too much sleep (PTSD activation issues, see world environ:mental degredation=corrupt politic$ especially the USA now 2019 with Trump as Madman in process of getting comeuppance), or so I tried to rationalise with myself. Just in case the moods swung again too bad. That rug that keeps getting pulled out every time I try to do anything good with my life. I can Not Burn The proverbial Candle AT Both Ends. And now I can't be matcho any more in the gardens. Gahd.
It is the deadly extremes of mania I especially try to avoid losing my cover. No one notices depression as much, not that that is cool either.
The depressions I manage to get through but it is so hard on the people around me. Hence, a life of trying to isolate myself, to protect other people from my own mood swings. Active Irrationalisation? Good term, heard that one in song once I think. ;)
But, so, I had collected a new stash of anti-psychotics, prescribed to me just in case, to prevent psychosis from taking it's grip. I tried to sleep a lot, too. When I worked, I used to take an Abilify anti-psychotic say on a Friday and try to jump start my health horrendously sick from the pill over the weekend and get back to work on a Monday and try to function better without having a manic episode. It would wreck my gut and head, but I'd try to fumble through my work tasks the best I could to recover. So, I still needed and at that point lots of supervision at work through a good manager.
I thought it worked pretty good, but that was because I was also sober from alcohol. I managed to hold down jobs for several years at a time at that point in life.
So I had sucked down the second stolen beer, and kind of blacked out in this awake dream, and took every last pill I could find in my room, which was all of them. Then lied down, still blacked out, and passed out. My caring Companion checked on me, thank gahd, found me unresponsive and dropped everything in the dead of winter, way out here, and hauled my ass to the hospital immediately
. I was passed out awake. He saved my life. The hospital then gave him a ration of sh*t blaming, then saved my life from there after a day or so, but I had to get the hell out of there because they kept waking me up with flashlights in my eyes every hour on suicide watch. If I had stayed at the loony bin I would have gone into a full blown manic episode from a deep depression within a week: deadly.
But then I was still alive and had to try to make reparations with my life. My poor beloved Companion, really. He is a Saint
to put up with me still
now. I am indebted to him spiritually for saving my life from the crash of 2008 which affected me by my job being eliminated by 10/31/2010. After that, I kept losing everything (yet again
), making horrendous choices with dwindling resources, etc, not listening to sage advice, to sound financial advice etc. I kept rebelling, being oppositional, childish, and at my ripe age so stupid, and obviously self-destructive.
I did now willingly stop taking medications. My plan when I started taking them was in fact to do it for just a while until I stabilized. That was a myth, however, for me. The pills habit, legal even though it was, perpetuated my inability to heal my own body myself. I wish I had never made any bad choices in life, but I must grow the heck up, I'm an old woman now, it's about time, and try to make the best of life.
Got booted out of healthcare in the Great Depression of 2008, no more deadly Rx T-rex was allowed for me. Mixed blessing. Now, I am grateful except for subsequently systematically losing my independence. It's ok though. I am alive, and happy as I can be. No social life to speak of, and there are reasons for that that I must take responsibility for. So, I must respect that in order to enjoy the life I have left here.
Do not pity. The Pity Committees must be disbanded.
Please no one, please, do not repeat my mistakes. Follow your own heart. Look to strong people that take better care of themselves so they can take better care of each other, see? Be yourself. Listen to uplifting music if you possibly can. Appreciate all your gifts, even if they are currently disguised as not gifts. Every last one of us are important. All people are important, especially people who try to be good to themselves, and each other. If you are alone, there are guardian angels all around you, for each of us.
P.S. This sucks to admit, the shame is still raw. I am so sorry. It's been over three years since that horrible mistake. Every day. I am so thankful that the alcohol += drugs did not win. One step at a time. If I can decide I deserve to survive, anyone can, I dare you to stay alive and at the way least in your soul try to thrive! Joy as rebellion...
