It’s like a game between only two players- except one person doesn’t want to play.
Then:
I’ve gone through therapy twice. Both times, I’ve been forced into an emergency consultation because they were right after my 2nd and 3rd attempt at suicide. The idea of going to therapy absolutely disgusted me. I didn’t want professional help. Professional help meant that you were going to be diagnosed. And being diagnosed meant that your mental illness was real.
From scheduling appointments, to filling out evaluation forms every month, to sitting in the same room once every week for who knows how long- I hated every second of it. Some sessions, I wouldn’t even talk or I would talk about bullshit and receive advice for a bullshit problem that I could easily overlook. But it’s because I never wanted to talk about my actual problems. I never wanted my therapist to dig too deep because I was afraid of what she might find.
And she was good at her job. She’s the one that made the analogy about my anxiety being a fire alarm blaring off when there’s no real fire. She actually helped me learn a lot about anxiety, depression, and my suicidal thoughts. She also helped me realize things that I never would’ve prior to therapy. In fact, she was so good at her job that I had to stop therapy- because she dug too deep… and she knew it.
My therapist’s last words to me went something along the lines of, “I feel like we were doing so well and now all of a sudden you want to stop. I feel like you’re running away from this, Jess.” I stopped seeing my therapist the summer of my junior year in highschool. I’ve been running away from this for 3 years now.
She moved the pawn on the board and it scared the living hell out of me. Having to retell my past experiences in detail and tie together the reasons why they have me so messed up absolutely terrified me. This was a game that I didn’t know how to play.
Now:
This past Sunday, 12/3- I was 100% set on attempting suicide for a 4th time but my best friend wouldn’t leave me alone until I gave him any medicine I could overdose on. Although I lived through the night, someone else didn’t. Another student at my university attempted suicide the same day- except he had a gun and he succeeded. I didn’t know who he was but my heart was still saddened. Everyone goes through their own untold battles. And just like that, they’re gone.
Today, 12/11- it was his funeral but not everyone knew about it. In college, sometimes you really are just a number.
Tomorrow, 12/12- I will be returning to therapy for the first time in 2 years and I’m terrified.
This time last week, I was ready to take the 2nd step of my suicidal plan. Tomorrow, I’m going to be taking a new step into a different direction.
It’ll be my first consultation appointment in 2 years… I’m terrified.
But here goes nothing.
Trying my best,
Jessica
