Dear Anyse,
First, I’m apologizing that I said I would try to call you back today, but I just got back home and am having a really hard time and just need to write a little and then hide and cry and engage some resources myself. I do promise I will try to call tomorrow-- my appointments should end by the late afternoon.
That being said, I just was checking email and saw your reply here-- so here’s my response to you, in turn. We can hopefully talk more about this tomorrow, too.
While, as always, I’m sorry when I hear someone is doing badly (and I’m in the middle of it myself, so I surely can empathize-- it’s about as bad as it’s ever been right now, and I’m just struggling to do anything other than return to a hospital for medical guesswork and short-term pain management-- although I will likely be back on TPN through my port and have more MRCPs and tests to still have this week; this is all assuming I don’t actually black out again from pain that’s too out of control)… well, I always feel for them. I wish from the bottom of my heart and with every ounce of my being that I could take it away from them and help to make them better and be free of the CP forever. I know it’s just a wish, and I hate feeling like there’s not much more I can do to take the pain away (both physical and emotional-- I personally think aside from the pain and dietary stuff and nausea and a life taken over by a disease, the losses we experience as a result can be so very difficult). After 16 hospital stays and 15 surgeries in the past 18 months, I can also empathize with not wanting to be readmitted… I get that sometimes it’s a must for survival, but not one we want to face if we don’t absolutely have to. Especially with all the problems we usually encounter getting treated.
Here’s the ‘reality’ the way I see it: CP pain is the worst. Nobody seems to have a great understanding of this disease, let alone how to end the CP. But in that journey, there’s never a need to end your life. I spent years of my life from the time I was 15 and almost killed by a drunk driver and left with multiple physical pains and limitations that are still ongoing at almost 44 years of age until I was about 29 years old (I had to leave a dysfunctional and abusive home by the time I was 16 and have been on my own since)-- very suicidal. There wasn’t a day from ages 16-29 that I wasn’t suicidal. My leaving home was the beginning of my survival, and I’ve never stopped. It’s been a hard life in many ways (also having a spinal injury from an Air Force injury and too many other serious diagnoses that have been there before the CP that are, in general, ‘disabling,’ but I never let them be). Additionally, I’ve lost dear friends to suicide, stopped others in the act (including two that led me to be covered in their blood and taking them to the hospital), and can only try to tell you what a terrible loss any life is. Life is full of complications, horrible things like CP, and enough tragedy that kills people-- and I wish I could find the right words to convey to you that as helpless and hopeless as you likely feel from the CP and all you’ve personally faced in your life, that you are still a wonderful, special, and deserving person-- and that if you took your life you would leave so much hurt and sadness in others. While depression and even suicidal feelings are a normal reaction to a chronic illness and chronic pain-- especially when there seems to be no end in sight-- suicide is still an act of anger and even selfishness. I don’t say that lightly, and never could understand that when I had those feelings all those years… but now having turned things around (other than the CP and medical stuff, unfortunately), I can clearly see how much harm I would have done and caused, and that while I would have stopped my life, I wouldn’t have really resolved anything at all–although I would have caused so much ‘bad’ that I could never have taken back. It’s been a long time since I’ve been depressed or suicidal, and while it might seem like an ‘easy’ out, it’s just not-- and it shouldn’t be seen as an option. I’ve read Final Exit (which I know you’ve mentioned several times), and in the end, I hope I can share with you some of how I make it through each day, often a day or minute at a time, and stay happy and grounded and focused-- as incredibly tough as some days get. And I’m writing this openly here rather than through a private note back, in case someone else may be experiencing suicidal thoughts and plans like you are and may benefit, too.
Every day… every single day… and even more when you’re feeling like “leaving this life,” I’d suggest you do the opposite. It might seem impossible, but find something silly to laugh or smile at or about. Find it, search for it, and then be grateful for it. It could be something on TV or in a movie or a book… or it could be just taking a breath outside and seeing a really pretty flower or sunset-- it doesn’t matter what it is, but find something every day that’s positive or going right. Even when it seems that everything is going wrong and badly, you can always find one small thing that’s going right-- from having a special family member or friend or pet in your life… to focusing on one thing about your body that’s not wrong or hurting… or just a privilege you have or something you own that you might not have thought that way about before. It doesn’t matter what it is, but find something or someone to hang onto every single day you have those thoughts-- and commit to just not doing it- one day after the other.
Suicide is a choice-- we all can make that choice, but it’s not a good one and it really will make the world a worse place, not a better one-- and the pain will still be there-- and for others to live with forever. It’s a very unfair thing to do to yourself-- and even when you feel like every thing else ‘bad’ is happening ‘to’ you-- you can still take charge and empower yourself to make a different decision. It puts you back in control, but in a positive way with a positive outcome.
If you need help, or need more or a different kind of help than you’ve been getting for your spending or depression, please… please seek out that help. Be proactive and you’ll start being proud of who you are and all that you’ve learned to survive. Crying is okay-- and laughing is okay-- and when you share those feelings you won’t be alone with the whole thing anymore. Try sharing those feelings-- especially the saddest and most scary ones-- with someone close to you or someone you trust. Don’t hide, please-- it will just isolate you more.
To answer your question, I don’t have any bad habits I do when I’m feeling down: Instead, I seek out my support system, talk it out, get out and breathe in some sunshine-- and if I could get feeling better, I’d engage in something physically active that would naturally release some endorphins and help me to feel better-- even for a while. I think when I’m the most down is when I find something soft to hold and squeeze or work all day if I have to to make sure I laugh or smile before I go to sleep for the night-- no matter what-- even in the hospital. That’s my honest answer. I’m far from perfect, but I refuse to go back to where I was decades ago: It’s a “been there, done that” kind of thing. I learned a lot through survival and never see myself as a victim of anything.
Anyse-- I’ll support you in anything you need, but not in your suicidal plans. I do appreciate your honesty and what you’ve shared about this before as well, as I think that’s how you start to get through it… but that may be the answer as well: You have to go ‘through’ it. If you try to go around it, you might continue to feel desperate and like your choices are limited and that ending your life is a viable option. I don’t see it that way, and never will… and I can’t support you in that. Don’t hide-- and smile and laugh whenever you can as a reminder that not everything is as bad as it often seems.
Well, so that’s now my longest response ever, but you’re surely worth it. My turn to go take meds and lay back down-- and please know that I’m with you, not against you in any way. I just want to see you continue to live and find the solutions that are still out there. I’m sending prayers, love, hugs, and friendship-- and I hope you can embrace at least some of them.
Please take care of yourself, take a deep breath, and pat yourself on the shoulder tonight or give yourself a big hug, too-- You deserve it as well as some pain relief and better health.
All the best,
Lisa
