Trigger Warning: I talk about some dark stuff here.
Last week about this time I was in such great emotional pain that I was thinking about suicide every few minutes. I pulled up to a roadside diner that had parallel parking on the road. When I got out of the car I was feet away from traffic screaming by. I could feel the gush of air from a Mac truck just feet away from me, and the only thing I could think of is that I had missed my chance. I obsessed about how I would plan another perfect opportunity. They would say it was a tragic accident. I called the Suicide Call Back Service while I hid away in my office. I hung up thinking, “What the hell am I doing calling them from work?” I somehow stayed alive. The death in my thoughts left as easily as it came.
This week, life is working for me. I can’t figure out how or why I was suicidal (again). I did miss one dose of meds (something that is extremely odd for me), but I still don’t understand the contrast of feelings. I physically and mentally feel different when I’m suicidal. I am working on ways to explain HOW the feelings are different. I’ll break it down one day once I can keep track of it when I’m in a negative space. All capacity for blogging, tracking, talking, caring, etc., goes out the window. Now I am good. Now I’m getting back on track. I’m not sure why. I’ve learned that I will be knocked over again soon. Nonetheless, I keep on going for now.