I Survived Part II | Article | #WWRRM

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By Raquel Lyons

From Part I: Instead of falling asleep though, another crisis began. At this point, it was about four in the morning on Monday August 14th. As I continued to catalogue what was happening to me on Twitter, the thoughts and suicide plans entered my mind. I do not actually recall, now, what the thoughts were specifically about, but they centered on ways to hurt myself and reasons why I should do so. They were cruel, cruel thoughts. I finally made a tweet saying that I thought it was time for me to go.

 

Before acting on that, I remembered the phone number I had included in my “Resources List” article, put it into my phone, and at five in the morning I brought a bag of gel pens and myself down to the darkness of my car in the garage (no keys, of course). I called the crisis line.

 

For half an hour, I spoke to someone on the phone, explaining my situation. I talked about these articles that I had been writing and they were actually the one to point out that I had been finding fault in suicide plans which hadn’t occurred to me. Because of the lull of the summer, they said they would have someone check on me later in the day, and I agreed that that was all right.

 

At six, I crawled my way silently back up to my room and fell asleep for another hour and a half. When I awoke again, I was tired and in a depressive mind set. My friend, whom I had vented to the night before, had returned with a message suggesting I needed to go to the hospital. It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear.

 

At some point, I gathered the strength to get out of bed. I remained standing because I had my earphones in and was blasting music (which blocked out the thoughts). I made my bed, colored in a cute seahorse, called my providers about appointments. I decided I would act as though I were in the hospital: which meant I would read, color and make artwork throughout the day.

 

I made it down the stairs after my parents were shouting at me to come down, at about ten o’clock. They were in the dark about what was happening and it irritated me that they were trying to rush me when I was in no state to be messed with. Unfortunately, I snapped at them before I could communicate my friend’s advice to lay low. I was just beginning to eat breakfast when a slower, sad song came on my iPod and my friend communicated displeasure at my response to my parents.

 

All the negative, cruel thoughts came rushing back, and I abruptly picked up my gel pens, my phone, a book of coloring pages and wordlessly hurried down to the garage to call crisis again.

 

This time I was inconsolable. I was sobbing profusely and could barely talk. I communicated that I didn’t want to live anymore if life was going to be like this. I couldn’t even leave my house to take a walk if I wanted to, because I wouldn’t be safe. It was the deepest dark day of my life.

 

After hanging up with crisis, I tried to also call another crisis number, but the wait was too much for me. I then started to form a preventative action plan otherwise known as a safety plan. I called back the first crisis number and spoke with them about my newest idea; in the meantime, I got a call back from check-in.

 

Check-in advised if I were that in need of hospitalization, it would be better for me to go local rather than go elsewhere to get evaluated. I felt deflated then, and discouraged that a hospitalization might be needed. It would be my tenth, my fifth this year. We set up another check-in for a couple hours later.

 

Maybe it was my strong desire not to go back into the hospital or the light of a check-in a few hours later, but I began to turn around. By one, I had taken a shower, laid outside and felt better. A few hours later, I had gotten frozen yogurt and watched bunnies eating greens.

 

All in all, I was stabilizing out. I wondered into the next day whether I should have gone to the hospital, but for the first time, I had wade through severe crises without hurting myself. I learned I cannot listen to music when obsessive.

 

But, most of all, I learned I could survive and radiate badassery. I would later attend my therapy appointment and my psychiatrist and use what I had written to guide the session.

 

Stay safe, out there.


Decided to just put this up today as I’ve finished writing and editing it. Felt I could go on to another article myself with this piece, but I think I covered all the major grounds.

I also want to briefly reflect on the fact that I’m pretty sure all my articles this time around are more positive and focused on problem solving than they have ever been before. That makes me proud and happy. 🙂

Hope you enjoy this piece! It was definitely more emotional to write.

And, with the BPD traits, this is probably understandable as to how I could get kickstarted out of crisis and into more stable ground. I’m definitely stabilized now. I have been more preventative too, and calling up crisis lines sooner than how I acted in this weekend. Here’s to more positivity ahead!! 🙂

 

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