Not safe for the feint hearted

I have just not been in the zone this week. Ever since I realised that this blog had turned into an online diary I just haven’t found the motivation to write anything at all. Today I just started feeling guilty so I thought I’d make myself write something. This something is about something I’ve been wanting to write about since I first saw people linking to the article where Stephen Fry come out in the open regarding his suicide attempt last year. It’s such a sensitive subject however, and not something that most people feel comfortable talking about, that I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up). How does one react to someone expressing something like that? How does the depressed person bring up something like that? Below is my experience with it, and to be honest, this is probably one of the hardest things for me to talk about because although I’m very open about my mental state, this is not a subject I bring up with anyone.

For many years I used to have a black book where I could just vent. This was extremely private, and whenever my husband saw me writing in it, he knew something was up, but he never read it (which I truly respect him for). A few weeks back I finally let him read it with the warning that there will be a lot of stuff in there that might make him angry or upset. He sat there on the floor (the position he was in when he found it, as we were unpacking boxes after having just moved in) for what felt like forever. Funny thing is, I was so worried about what he would say about the stuff I had written about him, that I hadn’t considered some of the other stuff that he might react to.

What he ended up reacting to vas vastly different and something that is such a big part of my reality that I hadn’t even considered it.

Here’s a sad little fact; I think about suicide in some forn every week. I keep it to myself, because there’s so much that can set it off, and it usually passes, just like my volatile mood swings. As such, I don’t place that much value into it. Sometimes it gets overwhelming and that’s when I write or hurt myself (hasn’t happened for a while). Another sad little fact: People say that it takes strength to live on. I say (and from what I’ve read in Depression comix) it takes strength to do the deed. So basically, I’m too chicken. I still haven’t figured out a quick and easy way of doing it, so it’s never come to that point. I guess I just haven’t wanted it badly enough, because it always comes down to what the consequences of surviving a suicide attempt would be like.

Don’t know how reliable of a source WIkipedia in on this matter, but a little something about being bipolar type 2: “Studies have identified major differences between bipolar I and bipolar II in regards to their clinical features, comorbidity rates and family histories. According to Baek et al. (2011), during depressive episodes, bipolar II patients tend to show higher rates of psychomotor agitation, guilt, shame, suicide ideation, and suicide attempts” (suicide ideation; check). I believe it. When I had a “regular” depression I was in a dark place constantly. True, I was miserable, but it was nothing compared to the constant swings that I experience last year.

So here’s another sad little fact; I honestly think that if I’d lived in the US, I would be dead by now, thanks to their messed up gun laws (guess what a majority of death by guns are a result of?).

Anyway, yes this is a very depressing post. Heavy for most, most of all to my family that will read this. But it just wouldn’t be right to write about being bipolar, without also bringing up this subject
as well. In my case, yes it’s probably not a good sign that I think about it at some point every week, but honestly, it’s not as bad as it sounds, because like I said: it passes, and this blog post isn’t about gathering pity points (expressing pity is the worst thing anyone can do to me I think), or to invoke other feelings of sadness directed towards me (second worst thing anyone can do to me), but simply to inform. It’s nothing that can be cured, I think, but rather a piece of a puzzle that no one will really wants to bring up. In my case, I don’t want to bring anyone down to my level, because I wouldn’t wish that on anyone (especially not people I care about.

So yes, a depressing subject which I’m sorry for. But at least I can promise you that I’m not there right now!

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