From as early as middle school I can remember dealing with suicidal ideation. I didn't think about doing anything to myself, but I constantly wished that something bad would happen.
I remember thinking that there was no way I would ever make it to 20, because surely something would have killed me by then. Now at 34 anytime I hear someone gets cancer I have to fight back feelings of anger and jealousy.
I hit a breaking point 3 years ago and was admitted to the hospital because I was suicidal. It was then that I received my PTSD diagnosis and it all started to make sense. I was so happy to have a reason for the feelings I had and the strange behavior I would emote during stressful times.
That euphoria last about a month after I left the hospital and realized that knowing what the problem was actually fix anything. I started therapy and started taking meds and things were ok. However I was still going through jobs like I had to try every type of job once.
I would start a job, do really amazing the first few months and then slowly things would get bad. I would start missing days, or give away shifts. My work would start slipping, and eventually I would get written up, get fired, or quit. Each job I lost hit me like a ton of bricks because I knew I could do the job, but like many good things it my life it didn't last.
I have talked to my therapist and that feeling of always waiting for the other shoe to drop or that anything for good has a time limit comes from the childhood trauma I suffered. My father was a truck driver when I was growing up, so there were long periods of time that he wasn't home and life was good. Then he would come home and it wasn't.
Even with 3 years of therapy my suicidal ideation plagues me. I will be driving and as a large truck passes and fantasize about it tipping over onto my car, or running me off the road into a ravine or something.
In January I hit and incredibly low point and seriously debated called friends or committing suicide. Ultimately I didn't do either and made myself a deal instead. I told myself that I would give this so far crappy existence another year. One more year and then if I can't take it, then I'm done.
The other part of that deal is that I had to actively try to make my life better. I started teaching crochet classes at our local middle school and that has been great. I'm making plans for the rest of the year as well, so we'll see how things turn out...
I remember thinking that there was no way I would ever make it to 20, because surely something would have killed me by then. Now at 34 anytime I hear someone gets cancer I have to fight back feelings of anger and jealousy.
I hit a breaking point 3 years ago and was admitted to the hospital because I was suicidal. It was then that I received my PTSD diagnosis and it all started to make sense. I was so happy to have a reason for the feelings I had and the strange behavior I would emote during stressful times.
That euphoria last about a month after I left the hospital and realized that knowing what the problem was actually fix anything. I started therapy and started taking meds and things were ok. However I was still going through jobs like I had to try every type of job once.
I would start a job, do really amazing the first few months and then slowly things would get bad. I would start missing days, or give away shifts. My work would start slipping, and eventually I would get written up, get fired, or quit. Each job I lost hit me like a ton of bricks because I knew I could do the job, but like many good things it my life it didn't last.
I have talked to my therapist and that feeling of always waiting for the other shoe to drop or that anything for good has a time limit comes from the childhood trauma I suffered. My father was a truck driver when I was growing up, so there were long periods of time that he wasn't home and life was good. Then he would come home and it wasn't.
Even with 3 years of therapy my suicidal ideation plagues me. I will be driving and as a large truck passes and fantasize about it tipping over onto my car, or running me off the road into a ravine or something.
In January I hit and incredibly low point and seriously debated called friends or committing suicide. Ultimately I didn't do either and made myself a deal instead. I told myself that I would give this so far crappy existence another year. One more year and then if I can't take it, then I'm done.
The other part of that deal is that I had to actively try to make my life better. I started teaching crochet classes at our local middle school and that has been great. I'm making plans for the rest of the year as well, so we'll see how things turn out...
