jakorte's blog

There are many types of suicide: obvious violent, subtle self-poisoning, emotional acidity. End results, the same. For the life of me, literally, even in my darkest, blackest, could not get up off the floor moments, I didn’t go there. How I arrived at the depths of hell was unintentional, not consciously chosen, but still of my own doing. Not drugs, not food, not abuse, not anything typical.

Someone asked me what happened to cause that? I considered the move, mom, job change, surgery, Ireland, coming home tired travel weary and obsessed with that date; the one where the tide turned and I was suddenly widowed for longer than I was married. But none of those things were strong enough to break me. They were just things to get through.

What actually happened to cause it? Nothing. And that was the problem. Nothing gained, nothing more lost, nothing in the future, can’t hold onto the past and can’t move forward. Wish I could have blamed it on the after effects of anesthesia, hot flashes, nutritional deficiency, but those were just the dust clouds surrounding the pit. And it was a pit. And I am more scared now that I have ever been because I was in that place - the one closest to hell on this earth, the floor of a black hole, shimmering blacker breath around me. I never would have taken the step into hell, but I wasn’t averse to sliding out of this life into GOD’s arms either. If HE’d said, “Now.” I’d have gone. There still a part of me that feels that way. I’m scared it will always be there., as if I let down my guard, it has the power to pull me back in.

Faced with that, I checked out. I guess I truly did not want help. I truly secluded myself, deluded myself it would be better. Some aren’t letting me back in. I understand. A part-time friend isn’t worth having, and that’s all I can manage for now. Maybe someday it won’t be that way. But I won’t promise that. I might not ever change back into who I was. Because now I’ve known terror, and it was realizing I wasn’t… anyone, anymore.

2/1 Today marked a milestone: the first session I did not cry. My therapist said I looked different. I said it was probably being blitzed out on codeine for a few days after tooth extraction and implant surgery just reset my mind. Maybe it was losing that last bad tooth, or knowing I will have teeth enough to smile in a while. Or just the act of doing something that will solidly lead somewhere.

2/8 I can’t tell you specifics, or exactly how, but something has changed. It’s the meds, and that’s ok. – least that’s my theory. It’s not that I don’t remember. It’s just incomprehensible that I was there. I’m outside that picture now, and now I’m even more scared. It was a very bad place, way worse than any other, hopeless worse, deep-down no-way-out hopeless.

So, here’s the hope adjective that best describes the change; glimmer. Not grandiose, not specific, not quite well-being, just general better-being. I’m horrified by my hindsight view of the last three months. It’s like I’m looking down into a black hole knowing there’s stuff in there, but unable see it. I’ve always said there is no magic switch. There is no easy way. But to have resisted meds so long and find so much relief in just a week, just makes me an idiot.

The meds don’t fix anything. In fact, nothing has changed except for the meds. But they are giving me room to think and concentrate and accomplish small tasks. Very small tasks, that if repeated to the point of rote will someday lead to a better place. The biggest difference is that I can imagine it, and I know it will happen one day. Nothing was going to happen any day, ever, without the meds. I can see that now. I’d kick myself in the butt for waiting so long, getting so desperate, but I’m so out of shape, I’d probably hurt myself.