Evading Death, Blowing Minds

I awoke the other day in a not so good place, i was anxious and depressed and just wanted to be dead. Well, it apparently just wasn't my turn to go yet because I should have died in a series of terrifying events and when all was said and done I got away with just a body of bumps and bruises.

There are several things that I have taken from this experience:\
1. God has a sense of humor. I am certain that he said, "serves you right for even thinking about being dead when it isn't your turn"
2. Angels are strong and definitely protected me.
3. I am surprisingly calm in life or death situations.

OK, so for those of you who don't know what happened, I was in a car accident. I wasn't just in a fender-bender or even a t-bone, I was in a serious, airborne rollover.

For work, one of the things I do is pick up cars from the dealers and bring them back to our lot, Tuesday was just like any other day, drove down to Infiniti in Fife and picked up a G37 I had brought down the day before for a blinking tire pressure light. I was on my way back and for some reason decided to go a little different of a route than I usually take, never will I do that again.

I was following a large O'Reilly semi and as we got off I-5 to 518 he got over so I continued straight ahead and that's when the truck started heading back at me, I had no other option but to try and speed up a bit and maybe get by...I didn't. Almost, but the semi ended up clipping my back passenger side. The only thing I thought was, "I am in so much trouble", then I realized I had no control and fishtailed toward the side barrier.

Between the East and West bound traffic is an embankment, in the end, that was my resting place. I flipped over the barrier, just scraping it on the way, and then rolled/bounced three times until I was sideways at the bottom of the hill. No airbags went off and no glass broke, it was kind of a miracle.

Anyone who saw it thought I was dead, but I felt completely fine, just a bit shaken up, mostly in shock. A man ran down and kept telling my I should be dead and I had him help me hold the door open so I could climb out. I unbuckled and turned off the engine and then we started the pokey climb back to the road through sticker bushes.

My first thought, obviously, was to call my boss. (that obviously was sarcasm). Then I called the police and then my dad who doesn't work too far from where it all happened. The state patrol came, the ambulance came, I sent them away, and I slowly came down from my adrenaline high in the front seat of my dads van.

As it stands, I am back at work, light duty, and have some major bruises from the seat belt (thank GOD for those) and the steering wheel and a sore shoulder and head where I hit the window a couple of times. I am doing pretty well and I am the talk of the town at work.

I don't expect to forget that it happened or feel completely fine, I mean it was a traumatic experience, but I do wish I could stop thinking about it. It has been three days and still its all I can think about. I refuse to be scared to drive, but that doesn't mean I am not anxious when I get in a car. I am anxious, very anxious, but I don't think I have ever been so glad to be alive. God definitely was looking out that day and made sure to send some angels my way.

The Car

Front Drivers side

The Roof

 The back drivers side

Passenger side

Back Passenger Tire

This is where the semi hit me

The bumper inside the car

Front drivers side again

The inside pretty much looked like nothing ever happened

Labyrinth Thoughts

The tears run down my cheeks like acid. It burns, but maybe it's the anger inside that's boiling; it's kind of hard to tell, and I guess it doesn't really matter because it hurts nonetheless.

There is so much in my head right now and I can't sort my thoughts, even for myself. I'm confused and lost and detached from the world, the labyrinth of my mind my prison.

Two things happened this week in my world of craziness; I hit five weeks and it's been two years. Both of these things are hard for me to process. At the same time I can't pretend they aren't there, it's all part of my story, and to heal from any pain I hold within I know that I need to face it all; I can't pick and choose. 

Let me back up and explain- five months is the amount of time that I have made it without turning to that old straight edge demon. Five... Five is still nothing in the scheme of things, I want more, I want forever to come, I want an actual reason to feel proud of where I am now. I'm not fair. I know that I am not fair; I have made it through more than most anyone could imagine, for that mighty enemy that I once chose to call friend is with me everyday. I have to say that today I will make it, today I will survive, nothing can get in my way. But wait, how can it be? That smooth silver blade, fresh, sharp...it calls to me, it reminds me that no matter what, it is the only one who can evade the pain. Every time I pull off its little cardboard vest I pause to remind myself that I am someone's inspiration to fight, and if I give in that's just saying that's ok. I guess there it is, the proof that I have strength, that I am healing, forever too far to imagine....but if I can go each day without falling into the temptation of my own monster, I am heading in the right direction.

Two years. Well, I want to pretend the day doesn't exist, but I can't, it's an extremely important day in my life. Not only because that day my parents could've been visiting my grave, but because that day, in a way, was the beginning of it all. I should be dead, I was so close to my own demise that the mere thought of it throws all of me back into that day. FLASH car FLASH goodbye texts FLASH drive FLASH turn myself in, a prisoner to everyone love FLASH long ride to the Psychiatric Hospital FLASH the beginning, the place where I couldn't get any lower. But I could fight to get higher, and that's exactly what I did. You see, those flashes could have easily ended after goodbye texts, no more memory would flash through my mind because no more life would be inside me. This is how far I have come, good or bad, I have made it two very rough years, I have made it through (what feels like) a million different meds, but after two years things are starting to feel like maybe I can be better. Maybe despair and fear and anger aren't all there is for me. I am a survivor, a fighter, a normal human being. My story is nowhere near the end, by my own hand at least. So every single day, no matter how low I feel, I can return to that day and know it's been worse. I made it then and I can make it now.

This isn't where I saw my life, not at all actually. Really, you learn to roll with the punches no matter how badly they hurt. Everyone has the strength to overcome.... in the end, it's all about having the patience to let things get better.

To Marvel Again

Amongst pain and sorrow; happiness, beauty, and positivity just don't exist.

To be sucked into the darkness of self-loathing and self pity...its an impossible thing to escape. You scratch the walls, try to grab a hold of something, to give you hope for survival, but you just cant get a grip, everything slips away.

You see nothing but darkness, no light, no hope, no anything. All that being said, you don't have time to marvel.

Marveling was my thing.

The small things, the ones people passed up and didn't notice; I saw those things and I used to love to marvel at them.

I hadn't marveled in months and months and I didn't even realize it until I marveled the other day. One thing after the other, marveling came back to me.

• These beautiful falcons that have a nest at work. I watch them all day, the way they move is simply beautiful.

•    I walk outside my door and staring straight at me is the most beautiful double rainbow. We could see it clear from one end to the other and my whole family just stopped to stare. Only God can create something that gorgeous. Oddly, a simple rainbow gives me a small sense of hope.

•           Hippo! Oh man, this little lady.... I marvel at her silliness and her curiosity and her shear cuteness always. I spend a lot of time watching her tootle about.

•      The sun. The water. But mostly, the way that the sun hits the water. 

OK, so they're dumb things, but at least I am marveling again. It makes me feel better when I can at least see a tiny bit of light.

So, again, I urge you all to take a moment to marvel at something. There is so much to see, open your eyes.

Four Months of Thoughts

Tomorrow marks the fourth month that I haven't hurt myself.

As I thought about that on my hot drive home the other day, I came to the realization that this is the farthest I have gone without cutting since the nine months in 2010. Its kind of sad when i think of it that way, four months is hardly anything at all and yet its the longest I have gone, I cant help but feel a tad pathetic.

I would like to say that its getting easier to fight urges and get through each day, however, I cant really say that easy is the word I would use.

I have gotten smarter, more cautious.

I have rules and rituals and plans when it comes to razors and what I let myself be around.

Anyways, I am trying to keep positive about making it this far, but there's a weird feeling that I feel about it, something like I made it this far (to a goal) so now I can cut. Its confusing, I guess.

I'm keeping going, one day at a time.

Thought This May Help?

Thus far, my blog has been a place to share my journey and any knowledge I may have, however, this post is specifically for those of you who live with/love someone who self harms in any way.

I have been on both sides, I have been the "cutter" and I have been around people who were cutting themselves, so I understand both points of view. As I went back to work this week, I found myself having to really think about what helps me when I feel urged and overwhelmed. I realized that a lot of the fight is an ability to be vulnerable and lean on others, therefore I think it only fair to give you other people some advice as to how to deal.

First of all, be proud. If your loved one is fighting self harm it is sometimes only you being on their side that is helping them fight and you don't even know it. When they make it some time without cutting let them know how proud you are of their progress (of course if you are neutral, then don't lie, it isn't really a HUGE deal). When you are spending so much energy trying to fight something like addiction, it is always nice to hear that even one person is proud that you've gotten as far as you have.

Second, be patient. If a "cutter" is to the point where they want to stop hurting themselves, be patient. It is not easy to stop and its a huge roller coaster that is scary and overwhelming and I realize that that can be frustrating when you just want someone to be better, but it doesn't work that way, you have to keep patient. Its a very slow process to stop self harming, and it will stop (hopefully) eventually, but you have to give it time, don't push.

Third, be willing to deal with blades no questions asked. This may sound silly, but I have found, in my recovery, that giving the blades to other people to get rid of for me has made it easier. I could make the decision to stop the cutting and want to get rid of the blades, but it would be so hard for me to let go and throw it out for good so I gave it to the few people I trusted and let them just get rid of them so I wouldn't have to. This may not work with everyone, but just be prepared nonetheless.

Fourth, if you say you'll be there, BE THERE. This one is very important. There were many times that I may have been able to be stopped from slicing myself if I could only talk to someone I cared about. Sometimes you just need someone there who you can trust is willing to talk you down.

Fifth, Don't go rogue. Don't go rogue means don't try and go all solo and making your own rules. Being that self harm has a lot to do with control, going rogue (or finding someones blades and taking them without talking to the person first) is a no no. Don't just take blades you find, it makes us just more frantic to find something else, no matter what it is, anything that we can use to cut and get relief. It is better for you to just talk to them about it.

Sixth, make lists and plans. Obviously another one that is not for everyone, but for me it worked. I am a list maker so I was always prepared with a mental list of things to do if I felt like I needed to cut and precautions for when I was near blades. Its hard to think of things to stop yourself when you aren't super sure that stopping is what you want, so just help your loved ones out.

Seventh, ask. Asking someone over and over what is wrong or if they are hurting themselves is really annoying, however, sometimes it just takes asking one hundred times before they cave and tell you whats going on. Just don't be afraid to ask even if you don't get an answer.

So there you go, a few things to help you deal with loved ones who self harm. I hope some of these (actually even just one would be nice) help you out. And those of you who are self harming and have stopped by to read this, be patient with your friends and family, they're clueless and usually just as scared as you are, don't be too afraid to let someone into your twisted world.

Some Kind of Poetic Thoughts

Bum      bum      bum      bum

Calm

Bumbum     Bumbum     Bumbumm

Fear setting in

That old melancholy feeling

Absorbing into my bones

Dudun      Dudun      Dudun

At the end

The rope cut

No other choice

Thoughts circling

Twisting, twirling around my head

Taken deeper and deeper into the darkness

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

Now. Nows the time

No other choice

Can you hear it?

Can you feel it?

Its shouting

Holding out its hand

The light in a world of pitch black

My saving grace

Budun    Budun    Budun

Sliced through the tangled thoughts

Sliced through the darkness

Light.

Seen through a sliver made in the night

Bum      bum      bum     bum

The world is clearing

Calm

The worlds moving quick

A devil for one

The rest naïve

The darkness to consume me

Bum     bum

Just Another Thought

As my life goes, if it isnt one thing its the other.

If I am not going crazy and hurting myself I am sick and yarfing.

There really should be an in-between, but in my world... there really isnt.



As stated in the last post, I feel like things may be looking up a bit, not a week after that post I started to get sick. Its kind of a well known fact in my house that I am ALWAYS sick. Life is rough.



Now.
The problem is that being sick makes you miserable and sad and unhappy and gives you way too much time to think. Laying there in bed, feeling like death, what better do you have to do? Yeah, not really anything, just think and barf.

A couple times in the last few days I have been urged to hurt myself. Obviously, I was in no condition to get up, sneak away, and cut myself....for no actual reason other than my body and mind told me that I needed to.

Puking=difficulty taking meds.
Difficulty taking meds= anxiety.

But alas, I am getting better for now.



As I laid on our sunken, uncomfortable, brown couch I caught myself thinking about cutting. It's a pretty common theme in my thinks, so nothing abnormal.

My heart breaks for everyone out there who is hurting themselves. Most days I just ache to be more, I want to fix the world, I want to make some difference, I want to stop people from suffering.

Obviously, I cant. But, nonetheless, my heart breaks. Pain that is enough to get you to cause physical pain upon yourself.... that's some major pain and I wish it upon NO ONE.

I refuse to live my life without making a difference.

Twenty One

Just turned twenty one the other day, that would matter except I HATE drinking and woo hoo one more year of life....(eye roll)

...Plus alcohol and anti depressants and such....bad, so they say.

Anyways, I was down, real down, heading into that same ol' darkness. I didn't want it to get that far and I refused to leave my psychiatrists office until he did something about the paralyzing anxiety that I felt every day, that I fought every day.

So I got yet another pill (not quite my favorite)

The good news: I feel like it may be working.

Hope...no. The makings of maybe some hope....yeah, sure. In any case my anxiety has gone down considerable, although I forget that its a twice daily pill. Two times a day is quite a commitment. ha!

Nonetheless, things seem to be going alright, I can make it through most days no problem, but every so often have a complete total "bipolar days"...or several.

I'm not going to just say that I am full of hope and happy flowers and butterflies and all other sweet, wonderful things... I'm just saying that lately things have been a bit easier handle.

I have said it before, but I am hoping this time I'm one month into forever stopping.

Twenty one is a perfect time to try and start new, healthier, but I am not calling it hope yet.

Day 30

I apologize that it has taken me so long for this last one, but I am getting to it now and really that's all that counts.

30. Post your favorite picture of yourself and write a positive message to look back on.

I don't have a favorite photo or a positive anything, but I have a favorite human and any photo that he is in with me is a good one. He is a light in my darkness.

Not so Therapeutic

I've been here and I've been there. I've been making it one day at a time. Slow and cautious. Anyways, that isn't what this post is dedicated to, this post is dedicated to therapists.

I image that at least half, if not more, of the people who read this are seeing a therapist or have in the past. I guess it really isn't a big deal, seeing a therapist, people go for so many different reasons that it just seems like no big deal, the usual, the norm. Rough.

So lets start at the beginning of the story. It started about two years back when I got home from college. I stated seeing Beth on a weekly basis, she worked, wasn't good, wasn't bad, but tolerated my bad attitude and resistance to share.

Since that first appointment I have had an appointment with her practically every single week. Still not so keen on the whole "lets share our feelings", "lets figure out whats going on in your head" stuff. But really, that's  just me, I don't talk about me as much as possible.

Anyways, I'm off track, just slightly, but still off track. What I am getting at is that when you are with someone that long you build a relationship, you start to know things about each other that you don't have to share over and over because they already know, they already know your story.

So what do you do when that therapist that knows you so well is no longer your therapist?! People who don't have a therapist don't really understand, however, I promise you that it sucks.

My therapists insurance changed and she no longer takes mine, I am stuck getting a new one.

I'm going to have to share my story all over again and let a whole new person try to pry my head open and find an emotion. That is irritating.

Its so much bigger a deal then you could ever know.

Dreams and Thoughts

(On a side note, I will come back to day 30, It requires a photo and I am unable to load any for some reason right now.)

Its always there, it never goes away.

Not night, not day.

As corny as that sounds.

I guess I dedicate this post to my dreams. The crappy ones, the ones that come and haunt me when I want to think about anything besides cutting.

I was having a difficult time, urges have been pretty gnarly lately, but as if that weren't bad enough, sleep is killing me.

Sleep is my escape, the little that I do get, and I look forward to that moment when I close my eyes and drift away... it hasn't been that way though. When I close my eyes to sleep my dreams are soaked with blood and sting like a blade, what I see is worse than I do to myself on the normal. My escape becoming my prison is scary. It hurts.

My mind, my body, it has all been exhausted. I cant seem to rest, I fear whats on the other side.

There's nowhere to go.