You guys may be wondering what the black book is, it's a journal my therapist got me when i went to him and told me to write everything down in it. I also call it the suicide journal since it mainly revolves around my depression and when I hit my lowest lows that is the main topic of the day. So here are a few pages from it, not the darker ones but the more light hearted ones...and when I say light hearted well...yeah you'll see. You may be wondering why I am doing this, sharing perhaps the most private things in my life. It's simple really. I have been as of late suffering with depression so bad that I have stopped eating and drinking, I can't will myself out of bed, and all I have been doing is trying to take care of my pets best I can and not poison myself. Writing in my book has been keeping me alive these past two days and sharing this nightmare only seems appropriate more so because I have been reading other peoples journals online who are dealing with depression like me and it has helped me. I can only hope some of my words can do the same.
Entry One: Shadows
Shadows, moving shadows. Creeping black masses you can scarcely make out. Images of the past lingering in the background. Just out of the corner of your eye you see them flicker, shutter. Do we even know what these shadows are? These images that fade the moment you go to glance them or focus on their form. Then like that, gone, without a trace, never there, never were, never anywhere. It makes me wonder if these dancing shadows are all just in my head or if they are unseen forces we only notice when we are trying not to notice. I shall have to transport my rant from the day before to this journal for it was rather interesting to be held awake by my insomnia, five in the morning watching the shadows move around my room.
I shall wait for now and of course practice as I do every night aside from last night since I was at therapy. I don't see why any of this should matter or why I bother writing any of this down honestly. Perhaps it is do to the lack of anything interesting in my mind right now or at least lacking the ability to put them down on paper for the time being. A poet without her pen, how silly of me, here is my pen and my paper and yet I have no poetry to give just like the f*** I don't give today. Spare a penny for the poor sir or walk on by I don't need sympathy and perhaps that is why I never tell anyone how I truly feel. I just force a smile, hold in my tears, and grin like the Cheshire cat while lying through my teeth. "I'M SO HAPPY IT'S MADDENING, DELIRIOUS. HOW ABOUT YOU SIR" When inside I am screaming, "I JUST WANT YOU TO GO AWAY AND LET ME DIE." But I have lost track again, where was I? ah yes, this pointless ramble and why I am writing it. I ask, have you ever forced yourself to write? Grab a pen and paper and just write everything that pops into your mind without rhyme or reason. No proofing, no order just vomiting words? I have, perhaps I do it because writing is all I have right now. All that is keeping me alive just now. The words buzzing in my head demand they bleed out over paper from my black ink pen. Now I am afraid my hand has grown tired from all my writing today and I must retire. And before I go, one last thing. Last night while laying in bed wishing for sleep, all deep in dreams I imagined how peaceful it would be to go into the kitchen and take all my mothers pain medication. Sit on the kitchen floor ans swallow down the whole bottle. People say it feels like falling asleep, that would be a peaceful way to go but I didn't do it because despite my urge, my need, my desire to do it I couldn't. I looked at my rats and realized if I die who will ever love them again? Today was better though and I can only hope tomorrow will improve as well.
Depression isn't just feeling sad, it's feeling empty and hopeless. It's a sickness that eats you alive from the inside out. I see how easily I bruise and wonder if I am left so frail because of my depression? Did I contract my grandmothers bleeding disease? Though even if so, wouldn't it be more impressive if I could stand up and fight, survive, be strong? I would like to think so but giving up is the easy part. Standing back up will take years.
Some Clever Quotes
"Some people claim to live in the pauses, I feel I live in the crashendos."
"My heart is but a harpsichord. Beautiful and yet ancient. I only allow but one person to play on it and once the music stops so do I."
"I simply don't just live in my words I AM MY WORDS"
"I am not a queen, I am just a popper with many great ideas."
"Do not define me by my misery but know without it I am not me."
"If I was normal who would I be and would I be me at all or someone else? I'm afraid to lose my madness because madness is all I have ever known. It's my comfort and my prison."
Today I cut through my thumb and needed stitches. No it was an accident but all the same afterwards I now just want to perish. I feel so betrayed by my own mother who called me weak and a coward and perhaps she is right. I am afraid of the world and the sting of my own parent calling out my weakness hurts the most. I am sick and yet she is mentally abusing me. I think for today I shall just lay down and not get up until tomorrow. I'd rather cry and lick wounds then pretend I am strong and finish my project.
Outside I'm smiling, inside I'm screaming.
Funny how no one believes you when you are mentally ill, but funnier still when people do not believe you are mentally ill.
There is a cure for every illness now a days.
Last edited by LadyVictorian; 09-23-2012 at 02:13 PM.
Here I am again, locked in a closet with heart racing and six new cuts on my leg (make the count 23). My new friends, red lines etched into my skin. They were meant to dull the pain and stop my anxiety. Nothing else was working and so after three months I have returned to my trusty needle and I have cut deeper than ever. I wonder why it is I use the instrument of my greatest fear to be my only cure? If I still had a therapist they might tell me. Ashamed, I am so ashamed of what I have done. My tears streaming from my face but if I was truly ashamed I would not have done it. This is my drug, my cure, I need it. My only friend, when all else fails the cut will help, it will take it away long enough to let me rethink my ways. Help myself. There are some things my friends and family can never know about me and this is one of them. I'll pretend to be alright. I'm in a new state, a new band, and I can't f*** this up no matter how sick I get. I would hate for someone to blame themselves for this, it's no ones fault but my own. It's my fault for what I have and I don't know why but I am to blame for this pain.
I am starting to think there is something very wrong with me and I am just too afraid to admit it. I'm afraid to go back to the doctors and ask for medication again. Why would anyone ever wants this? If they did that would just be crazy right? I try to pretend it's all in my head, it's not real, it will go away, but when I open my eyes I still have it. Could I cut this from my veins, bleed it out? I have tried and it's not working. How do I remove venom in my head? How do I remove the sickness in my brain? HOW DO I FIX THIS ALONE? If i had the answers I wouldn't be in a closet sobbing and hacking my thigh to shreds with a needle would I. I am a musician, a singer, people look up to me, people admire me. I wish they wouldn't because if they only knew how I truly was they would hate me. Everyone would hate me like my family resents me for getting like this. I can't tell anyone about tonight. God I'm so ugly inside, I truly am. My depression is selfish, people suffer on the streets and have a reason to be miserable. I don't have a reason to be like this, I should be happy. I am living my dream and I want to throw my life away. Selfish, pathetic, and weak, why can't I be better than this? Between anxiety and depression I won't sleep well tonight.
Physical symptoms of the day, chills, weakness in limbs, shaking and jittery yet tired, drained, hollow. My chest hurts, tension? My heart is racing yet I'm sitting still, this could be the start of a panic attack. I want to sleep but I can't, I want to scream but my throat is dry. I haven't eaten or had a drink all day. I can't. Too much effort and not enough willpower. Can't remember when I last ate or drank, I should force myself to or I'll get worse but why bother. Why?Thoughts of suicide? Yes, Thoughts of no self worth? you bet your sweet a**. I considered today how toxic all the chemicals are in the test kits I have for my fish and what would happen if I drank all of it? Would I die? I don't know. I wouldn't bother with if if it would only leave me sick. Still if I do that then again, who will take care of Aquarius and my rats when I'm gone? Where would they go? I want to, I might even research it but for now I'll put the test kits out of my reach. Out of temptation.
I really want medication right now, I have hit such a horrible low it's amazing anyone can survive this ache this pain. I feel like I am drowning in my own body. I need help, someone I can trust, someone who can take me to the hospital if it gets worse but I'm afraid. I know if I go I won't come back. They won't let me out once I send myself in. I am more afraid of being trapped in the hospital than I am at the risk of suicide when I'm alone. What do I do now? I can't live like this? I can't live afraid and miserable. I'll watch my fish, they say they are relaxing. I'll watch him until I can sleep and if I can't then I'll not stop watching.
Too tired to walk over to the other side of the room and get my pen so I am using a pencil. I hate pencils but it was the only thing I could reach. Still haven't eaten or had anything to drink. I considered drinking tank water because it's close and I have an empty cup but I don't want to go to the tank. I have to drink, my throat is so dry and I have no spit in my mouth but why? If I leave bed I can't go back in and I can't sleep all day though I wish I could. I have to clean the tank and get a drink, at least a drink. I need the test kits but I'm afraid I'll drink them. I asked my bandmate to pick me up the Nitrite test kit, I have to finish cycling this tank for my shrimp. GOD WHY DO I CARE? Why do I care about this stupid fish when i don't even care about myself? I have to clean this damn tank and take care of this damn fish because if I don't I might as well drown myself in the stupid aquarium. How useless can I be?
Cleaned the fish tank and then lost steam. Still this pencil. I changed the water but the plants are sitting on the carpet and I just don't have the energy to put them back right now. He keeps staring at me as if asking me to get better and I can get better by taking care of him. Just that one small thing, put the plants back, it's not that hard. It's not that hard so why am i still just sitting on the floor looking at them? They won't put themselves back. After this I have to eat and get a drink. I should get dressed too or the guys will suspect something. Stupid pencils, I want my pen, I need my pen. Screw signing my name at the end of this entry, I just don't give any s**** anymore who I am. I don't need a name.
Funny how when you are depressed you are almost super human. You don't get hungry, thirsty, don't need to use a restroom, and despite being tired you don't need sleep. Maybe they should make an army of depressed soldiers who could win wars and be super heros. Though I admit, I don't feel very super. I feel weak, so weak I can't hold my body up. Still need to eat and drink, I have said this so much already but can't do it. I hate myself for feeling like this but I am getting better. I have my nitrite now and can star the bast tests. Test the water in the tank tomorrow, pick up a plant maybe? I want another fish but who am I kiding. I can't take care of two fish, not until I get better. I just feel like a second might make me happy but it won't. Nothing will, I have to ride this out the hard way.
Can someone lock themselves in a closet with two rats? The question shouldn't be can but why and I don't have an answer for that right now. Going to get my laptop and listen to music. Maybe write, anything. I feel a little better but by that I mean I am not currently suicidal. Calling Bryan, he can find me a therapist in Texas. Better be quick because one more day like this and I won't have a mind left to save.
LadyVictorian, I'm so sorry about what you're going through. So many people don't understand mental and emotional disorders and brush them off like it's something you made up to get attention. Please know that I care and I'll keep you in my thoughts and prayers.
Relapsing: The Medication Isn't Working, On to Something New.
Recently had some breakdowns the past 4 months, almost put in the hospital twice, attempted suicide once and am now on new medication and taking Ativan again as well for my panic attacks I have. Cutting has returned, oh how it has returned. I don't have much but now that I am returning to a well functioning human again I wish to share a few more pages from those deep dives I had. I'm amazed by how much I can write when I don't even have the will to live and even more amazed I don't remember ever writing most of it.
"Drowning is a hell of a way to go, I don't know why anyone would try it."
"Tomorrow will be a better day. If you have no faith in that then what is the point of waking up?"
"If you can survive this you can survive anything the world throws at you."
"I will always live with my demons and sadly set a place for them at the table when they visit me."
"Depression is the only friend I never wanted and the only friend I hate to see leave me. Who am I without you? You're the only one I have left, don't go."
* * * *
Forever alone, forever dead and damned. There si no point to living and no reason to die. Only to stop existing and have never been, this is my end. Can someone suffer so much pain they feel dead? Can you feel so alone you can't breath and yet hate company by your side? So afraid you don't know who to trust anymore? I do, and I always have. For once I feared the dark and now it has become my only comfort. My safety, my friend.
I'm screaming through my silence, crying through my smile to protect those around me. It never gets better from this point, only worse. I suffer in silence. My silence. I wear my heart on my sleeve and a mask on my face. If only the world could see what a coward I am. I write this now only so that when I'm gone everyone will know why I did it. Everyone will understand why I gave up, because there was nothing left for me here, nothing left worth fighting for.
Riddle me this, how does one sure pain? With more pain. Bloody gashes. Doctor Prescribed patient approved since 1865.
Bleed out the evil in your veins. A 20th century cure.
Cutting isn't enough anymore, I need to go deep, see my blood. I want to end it so badly, living is pain. My pain is too great to live with. I am sick and f***ing tired of pretending I am alright. I am sick and f***ing tired of my family and their s***. I want to be alone, I want to wither away. If no one was home I would take all the pills. Remember little one, no one is on your side. No one can be trusted. NO ONE. Not your friends, not your family, not even YOU. You are and have always been alone in this. No matter their lies, bulls***, their smug f***ing faces. No one gives a s***. Fact, I am all I have and even I f***ing hate myself. What does that mean for me? Death, it's inevitable. I'm going to kill myself eventually. Why run from my destiny?
The night Aquarius died and I was nearly hospitalized
You stupid f***ing w****, I hope you die drowning, hope you burn in hell and rot. Stupid s***, I hate you GOD I HATE YOU. You're nothing. You don't deserve the air you breath, you don't deserve it after you killed my only friend. You killed him, it's all your fault he's dead you monster. The only thing that ever loved you since Ophelia and you killed him. You deserve all your suffering, you deserve to die. MURDERER, MURDERER, KILLER KILLER BURN IN HELL WHERE YOU BELONG. DIE!!!!
* * * *
There is a hell, I'm living proof. It's not a place you do to after you die, it's the place you live in now. Death is the escape from this hell, but what if I dare to suffer it a while longer? Do I have hope I'll ever get better? Haven't I proven I'm not? New medication. In a month from now I'll either be dead or I'll be alive and on something else. I'll see when life gets better, if it never does at least I tried. At least people can look back and say i went down fighting for my happiness and those few bright moments when I was free from this whole thing. I look into the world from my curtain of tears and chains built from my fears. I watch everyone so happy to be alive while I shiver in my cold cell. When do I get to be apart of that world in the sun? When do I get to say I'm happy I'm alive? When do the good days outnumber the bad? Today I had a good day, so good I bawled. I was in public feeling the sting of all my cuts burning against my pants, waiting in line for my tea and a muffin. I haven't eaten in days so I was starving. It's been about three weeks since i tried to kill myself, one week since I was nearly put in a hospital or maybe less, I can't recall. Some kind old lady asked if I was tired and I said yes. It's been harder for me to wake up in the morning. She let me stand in line in front of her and I swear as true as the day she turned to me and smiled and said something so sweet I nearly broke into tears. "You are such a beautiful young girl, I bet you have the whole world before you." It was so simple and so kind and made em see so much I couldn't see before. I got my tea and forgot my muffin and went out into my car and cried, for how long I don't know but I cried so hard and it felt so good. When I brushed the tears away I looked at the snow and how it shimmered, the few birds left in this frozen dead state huddled together surviving. I felt like one of those little birds. If I just huddle with those left suffering in this cold world together we might all make it. I want to be that old lady some day, I want to get old and not die young in my pain. I want to wake up and say I did it, I have a future, I am a living person, I feel, I think, I love. I have battled these long dark months to come out and have some glimmer of hope. I'm alive, and though my car was cold I felt so warm. It could have been my tea but i felt so obviously warm and filled with something. I want to share this life with someone, something, I want to so something with my life. i have my music and I have my stories but I want to make this life mean something. Black Book, this isn't the end, it's only the start. Yes I'll have more bad days but here it is one good day, how many more can I make? Someday someone will love you so much, don't take yourself away from them. Some day the world is going to see who you are, some day you are going to be the power beneath some suffering little girls wings and give her hope to keep fighting. Be strong so you can make the future stronger. Be strong so some day you can save lives and help people. Be strong, I know it's in you, be strong for those you have lost and be strong for those you have yet to find.