Tag: suicidal tendencies

Understanding self harm and suicide

Self harm is not about attention.

TRIGGER WARNING. This article deals with self harm and suicide. If you are self harming or are suicidal, there is help available. Please visit our help page instead of reading this article.

If this article upsets you stop reading.

 

Depression is suffocating. It’s can be a full time job and sometimes it has the tendency to ruin your life. Today I find myself sitting at home, written sick off work because of my depression. Days off work can be beneficial for recovery, but they also leave you feeling unsuccessful and ashamed that you aren’t a reliable worker. Then begins what they call in German a ‘Teufelskreis’, which literally translates to ‘Devil’s circle’. A perfect name for something so horrid. It’s a viscous cycle of thoughts that build on themselves. I think ‘I’m useless because I’m depressed’, then I think ‘I’m so depressed and will never get better’, and now we’re back were we started, but now I feel worse than before. The cycle continues and I just feel worse and worse. And this is when I feel like I’m stuck in a hole. I imagine myself in well, with ever growing walls. I can try and climb out, but what’s the use? The well is getting deeper, the walls are increasing in height. I’m suffocating. I can’t breath. A heaviness settles on my chest. I can’t breath. Stop. Time out.

I wonder what it’s like to be ‘normal’ -if that even exists. What’s it like to have never had depression? Is that even possible? I can’t imagine it. I mean every one gets sad from time to time, of course. But are there really people out there who have never experienced a depressive episode? (Notice that I’m differentiating here between having a depressive episode and being sad? -It’s not the same thing.)

Anyway… back to the title.

I never understood self harm until recently. The last week I’ve really been battling hard. I’ve really wanted to harm myself. It’s different from how I’ve felt before. I understand the motivation behind it this time. Self harm isn’t the same for everyone and there may be different motivation behind it and different methods of self harm (which I will NOT get into, because I don’t want to give anyone ideas… but I will say if you really, really can’t help but harm yourself, maybe try putting ice against your skin or flick a rubber band, it’s a lot less damaging and is recommended by therapists).

Previously when I hurt myself it was an automatic thing. I can recall when I was hospitalised and was telling the nurses I couldn’t stop. Some nurses were really helpful and gave me mandalas to colour in (which was a great recommendation by the way), others weren’t particularly helpful and just told me they couldn’t help. Battling with thoughts of self harm for the last week I understand that it’s a pain thing. As a child if I hurt myself my dad would recommend hurting another part of my body as a distraction. That way I’d stop thinking about the first pain and think about the second instead. This is exactly what’s going on here. I want to give myself physical pain so I can escape the psychological pain. It’s just too unbearable.

Side note: this isn’t the same for everyone. I have a friend who self harms out of self hatred. Which I’ve probably also done.

Self harm is not about attention. Self harm is something I do when I’m alone (mostly…). It’s desperation. It’s seeking a way out. It’s trying to alleviate pain. It can be almost automatic, something you can’t help.

Let’s talk about suicide. This is something I’ve thought about a lot, seriously contemplated, planned out to an extent, and even thought was ultimately inevitable. (Sorry Mum, I know that’s hard for you to read.) It’s never been about wanting to die. It’s hopelessness. It’s giving up. It’s a belief that nothing will ever get better. It’s a thought that this pain will always exist. I never wanted to die. I just wanted to escape the pain. I wanted a way out. An emergency exit. It’s not a wish to end things, it’s a wish to never have ever existed.

Lots of people complain about people committing suicide as being selfish. To that I say: yes, depression is selfish. Depression takes all your focus and attention. It’s cancer. It takes over. Depression is ‘me, me, me’. And to recover from depression you need to be selfish. You need to say no when things are too much. You need to be able to say, sorry I wish I could help you, but right now I need to focus on my own needs. And you know what? That’s ok. That’s why this is my first post in… a year? 18 months? No idea honestly.

If someone ever tells you that you are selfish because of your depression, good. We ALL need to be selfish sometimes.

If you are suicidal or know someone who is suicidal, seek help immediately. Call a suicide hotline or if a life is in danger call emergency services. Mental illnesses do not need to be fought alone. Don’t wait. Get help.

The road to hospital

At home I would just lie on the floor crying. I couldn’t get up, no matter what I told myself.

I could have died last year. I’d thought about killing myself so many times. Sometimes on the way to church, I would think about getting on the wrong train and heading in the opposite direction to a place where I would end it all. I remember once thinking ‘at some point I’m going to kill myself, why should I wait?’. In December I wasn’t just thinking ‘I want to kill myself’ or ‘I should kill myself’, I was thinking, ‘I’m going to kill myself. Yes, I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to kill myself. Yes, I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to kill myself…’. You probably get the picture. But seriously, this went around and around and around in my head like a broken record. By Christmas I had been fighting suicidal thoughts for months and I was at breaking point. I couldn’t go on anymore.

Anxiety was building inside of me like a large pressure cooker about to explode. I would look ok on the outside, but I would be screaming on the inside. At home I would just lie on the floor crying. I couldn’t get up, no matter what I told myself. Over and over I would tell myself to get up. Get up. Get up. You can do this. Get up. But I just couldn’t. It was like my arms and legs couldn’t hear my brain. Get up. Get up. I’d walk so slowly too. I’d tell myself to go faster. Come on you can do this. You can walk faster than this. But I just couldn’t. My legs were so heavy. They just couldn’t move. Everything was so challenging. Household chores just weren’t happening and a few times my dishes only got done because a friend would do them for me.

I hated myself, I couldn’t love myself. In fact, I couldn’t love anything or anyone. All the joy was sapped out of my life and I had such an ugly idea of myself that I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be friends with me. People I didn’t know would come to me in church and ask if I was ok. It was obvious something was wrong. I was always crying and I was always looking down. People kept telling me to look up, but what they didn’t understand was that I couldn’t. My head was just so heavy and when I tried to look up I just felt this enormous weight. That was one of the physical effects of depression.

At this stage I had been taking medication for months. I was on a herbal anti-depressant called ‘Laif’. It was great because it had very few side effects, but it was designed for mild-moderate depression and I’d surpassed moderate depression a long time ago. I was also receiving counselling which likewise wasn’t helping. My counsellor told me my sessions weren’t going to work until I had the right medication and although my GP had referred me to a psychiatrist, the appointment wasn’t for another month.

Over Christmas, I stayed with a friend in the Black Forest. She probably couldn’t see it, but I enjoyed my time there a lot for someone with such severe depression. However, this was my breaking point. I had severe depression and anxiety, I wasn’t thinking straight and I came the closest I ever came to killing myself. Fortunately, being in the Black Forest and in an unfamiliar house meant I had fewer methods available to kill myself and so I didn’t make any attempts.

I doubt I will forget that moment when my friend, cried and made me promise not to hurt myself. She was afraid to leave me alone and the next day, on Tuesday the 29th of December, 2015 she gave me no other option and brought me into hospital. I was not happy about going to hospital, but I was unable to think for myself anymore. Neither of us spoke during the whole car trip from the black forest back to my home. I couldn’t. My brain was too busy processing a billion thoughts of why I knew I needed to go to hospital and why I didn’t want to go. My friend took me home and told me to pack my bags. I just complied. The decision wasn’t mine anymore. I was too sick to make a decision. Everything was just too hard or too scary and I am thankful that she stepped in and made the decision for me.

During my first night in the hospital I just laid in bed and cried until I fell asleep. That was quite early mind you because I was on a high dose of medication to calm me down, which also made me drowsy. I spent the next 7 weeks in hospital and a further 13 weeks in a day clinic. Hospital was absolutely the right place for me; I was put on medication which really helped me and had various therapies. Over the 20 weeks I had psychotherapy, art therapy, music therapy, occupational therapy, enjoyment classes, depression classes, role plays, social competence training, dance therapy, movement therapy, and outings. I didn’t enjoy all of my therapies, but some of them definitely helped.

I have been out of hospital now for 7 weeks and life is better. I still have off days and am still learning to deal with the side effects of my medications. But I know how to deal with my illness now and what to do if I’m upset.

If you are suicidal or know someone who is suicidal, seek help immediately. Call a suicide hotline or if a life is in danger call emergency services. Mental illnesses do not need to be fought alone. Don’t wait. Get help.