Some thoughts on suicide/self-destruction...

Allow me to preface this by saying I felt compelled to write it. I posted on my Facebook page my thoughts on Amy Winehouse's untimely death. I posted that I cannot shed a tear for someone who pisses away a beautiful life. All life is beautiful. Sadly, not everyone is able to realize this. My sister sent me a text today asking questions about my thoughts on this, so I felt the need to clarify a bit.

Yes. There are some folks out there who feel so completely overwhelmed and alone that they opt for suicide. There are others who for whatever reasons, opt for slow self-destruction. Some are born with highly addictive natures. Just add chemicals and BAM! you have an addict. And let me tell you, addictions are hell.

None of this changes my thoughts...and I'll tell you why. I fall into all of the categories above and guess what? I've survived. Am I stronger than most? God, I hope not because most days I see my weaknesses at the forefront.

I first tried to commit suicide at age 4. It was an impulse. A few half-assed attempts followed. After my mother died when I was 13, the impulses got stronger...plus my impulses for self-destructive behavior became stronger. Alcohol, drugs, smoking, eating crap food, unsafe sex,fighting, weapons, you name it. At age 15 I was expelled from school for carrying a concealed weapon (a straight razor). As part of my probation, I was court ordered into outpatient psychiatric care until age 18. I can tell you, it did nothing to stave off the impulses. I moved from pot to amphetamines (pharmaceutical grade, not the crap home-made stuff or caffeine pills). I also drank every chance I got. I scared the hell out of my shrink. One day I showed him just how I capable I was at fooling everyone around me. It took me an hour to convince him NOT to hospitalize me.

After I turned 18, I pretty much gave up drugs (except beer). I still fought all the time. I still would sleep with damned near anyone with a pulse. I liked to drive fast. I used to play a game where I would jam my foot on the gas pedal and see if I would hit anything. The suicidal impulses were still as strong as ever. One night, this particular game led to me crashing my car @ 120mph into the back of a parked garbage truck. I walked away with a few cuts and bruises. I was extremely lucky. When I saw the inside of my car a few days later when I got out of the hospital, I saw that my legs had shattered the dash, my chest knocked the steering wheel off and through the windshield and my mouth had broke the rearview mirror in half. All of this led to a spiritual awakening in me. I realized that I was here for some reason.

I've lived with depression for 45 years. For all I know, it could be genetic. My maternal grandmother was a depressive who took her own life. What I HAVE learned, in my case at least, is that these are suicidal impulses. I can choose to follow them or ignore them. It took a looooooong time to understand that.

In my mid 20s, I discovered cocaine. Now that was my kinda drug! By age 30 I thought it was behind me. I was wrong. My depression hung in there as did my suicidal impulses. I'd started to mellow a bit in my self-destructive nature, but not much.

At 34 I was diagnosed with skin cancer. I beat it thoroughly but it brought on a bad depression. Life was starting to look up for me by my mid 30s when due to what I call The Great Nashville Beef Incident, I ended up in a coma for a week and lost large chunks of memory. It took me over a year to be able to balance my own checkbook again! I ended up in an extremely deep depression. But no one ever really knew because I chose NOT to let them know. I can be very convincing when I want to be.

By 40, I had been around the world, was self-employed and had the world by the short hairs. Then the depression got worse. My business started to fall apart thanks in large part to the Bush funding cuts. Rather than just move on to bigger and better things, I dove back into my old friend cocaine. I was dropping a grand a month and was taking someone else down with me.

To add insult to injury, I was no longer able to sleep. I'd long been an insomniac (years of caffeinated beverages plus other chemicals will do that to you) but this was really bad. I was averaging 20 non-consecutive minutes per day. This went on for 6 weeks.

Finally, I fell apart. Complete breakdown. I was raving. Luckily, a friend who has known me for ages, saw the mess I was in and called an ambulance. The police came and took me to Western Psych. Luckily, while there they discovered part of the reason for my sleep problems: my serotonin levels were all out of whack from the coma! Modern pharmacology to the rescue! I was placed on time released antidepressants and sent on my way. I saw my therapist religiously every week. I went home and flushed a few hundred dollars worth of coke and poured all of my booze down the drain. Then I attempted to go about salvaging the relationships in my life. I've done pretty well with that.

After 6 weeks, I developed tremors in my arm from the antidepressants and had to stop taking them. My doc wanted to try some others but not being OK with the thought of having a seizure, I opted to go without. It's been 5 years. And I'm still OK! Since then, I suffered a massive heart attack and another bout of cancer...both of which I've beaten.

I still haven't completely kicked all of my bad habits. I still smoke (and still keep trying to quit!) and will still have a few beers now and then. I'm in a relatively stable relationship...and God only knows how she puts up with me! I try to take care of myself. Some days are better than others. Just like anyone else.

I still get depressed now and then. I still get the suicidal impulses too. But I've learned that they are just that. Impulses. I don't have to give in to them. I still have lots of demons in my head too. These are called painful memories. Some too painful to ever discuss. With anyone. But I've learned that I can either allow them to rule my life or relegate them to the status of just one more thing to deal with. I've opted for the latter.

Every day I'm thankful to still be here. By all rights I shouldn't be. I have lots of things that I want to do. I like making plans...even if they don't always turn out.

To ANYONE who has been touched by suicide, self-destructive behavior, etc...remember: its not YOUR fault. If there is someone in your life that you care about at all who fits one of these categories, get them help. I can tell you, they WILL be angry with you for a while. But they WILL get over it. And they will eventually thank you. If they are sick and not getting better, get them better help. Not all docs are the same. There's no 'one size fits all'. Some folks just need someone to listen, or to remind them that someone cares. Some need a more structured approach. Some need to be hospitalized, sometimes for long periods of time. Illness is illness, regardless of what part of the body it affects or how visible it is. Never give up.

If you are one of the people living with the daily hell of depression, suicidal thoughts, addiction, etc...GET HELP! I can guarantee you that someone cares alot more than you realize and its a selfish act to destroy the precious life you have. Someone somewhere cares. Losing you will hurt them every bit as much as the pain you feel on a daily basis. So please, get the help you need. I'll help you if I can. If I can't, I'll help you find the right help. As my auntie used to tell me often, "Don't do anything stupid". You DO have choices. Choose to be happy.