Hindsight

Themes: Suicide

(Before you delve into the mess below, I just wanted to mention that the announcement I made a couple of weeks ago regarding something new coming to Lucent Madness (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, its on my Instagram _lucentmadness) is nearing its debut! I am hoping it will be ready to go over the next two weeks, as I was waiting on a few things to be confirmed before it could launch. Hopefully by the next post, it’ll be inside your eyeballs!)

Sometimes I wish that I possessed the ability to foresee certain outcomes of situations as I am sure a lot of us do. I spent some time earlier this year drafting a post about navigating failure and searching for the confidence to rise above it, and live authentically.

I wrote it at a time of confusion and I wasn’t really aware of what I was drafting. All I could understand about what was happening was that I was out of depth with a lot of things and felt disconnected from life. I had just quit my job after lasting only 1 week because I greatly underestimated my mental state. As a result, I trapped myself in guilt and exacerbated my suicidal ideation which resulted in several severe breakdowns. The first quarter of this year has not been kind to me.

Me too, Karen. Me too.

But what was meant to be a published piece by now was actually the beginning of a realisation and although I did not know this yet, the symptoms of a newer perspective were rising. For some reason, I couldn’t piece together what I wanted to write. It felt disingenuous, the words that were coming out, because I realise now that I wasn’t able to offer a solution. I’ve built my blog on solutions based on experience because as I imagine a lot of mental health ‘bloggers’ or writers have in common; we want to be a voice and beacon for our 13 year old selves because we were not afforded the same.

We want to guide those who don’t have the support by letting them know that we understand.

I am riding a merry-go-round and have been for some time. Different places, same shit and it is difficult to ignore it, but it is even more difficult to deal with it. I don’t want to think about it because who wants to be reminded of their failures? Who wants to face their demons?

That is the annoying thing about allowing something in, that has the potential to change your perspective, even if you don’t mean for it to happen; once you realise it exists, it takes its time; the moment arrives when you least expect it, and it’s always after you’ve exhausted every option, experienced every emotion and drained yourself. So you’re left in this pathetic puddle of weakness, attempting to dig yourself out of the hole to find the strength to continue. You’re forced to look at yourself and make massive changes.

Why the fuck this makes sense to any ‘God’ or higher power is beyond me, because there is no dignity in hitting rock bottom. Unfortunately, we look down upon those who cannot reach the standard we set for ourselves as a society. Good job, security, house, car, savings, 2.5 kids; whatever. It’s debilitating at times to live up to any standard but the ones we set for ourselves are the worst ones.

And although I strongly feel this is true, what is also one of the most debilitating things to handle now are the cries for help because I don’t want them to appear fabricated. The almost cliché of traits you can label a suicidal individual is the gambit of them only threatening their lives for false attention. Bullshit. Get the actual fuck out of here. I want to fucking live, I’m threatening my life because I’ve tried every other method and I now just want the pain and suffering of my existence to end.

And this is where I found myself. At the bottom, pathetic and tired. Drained, humiliated and forcing myself to get the fuck up.

Before you jump down my throat saying that I am holding you solely responsible for my well being or that of others, stop. We sustain this rhetoric of checking up on our family, our friends, co-workers and whoever we’re connected with, to ask if they’re OK so there is a level of onus on us as a wider community to be mindful of the subtle shifts from our ‘normal’ selves. Just be aware.

So, here I am about to sink or swim and I manage to swim. Or something is on auto pilot at this point now, I dont know. What I do understand are the frequent suicidal tendencies.

They have taken me some time to accept as being a part of my mental illness. I’ve always considered it a bygone symptom that can be subjugated with medication and/or therapy if it came up again. But what I have come to understand over the last several weeks is that I have always had them. Rather than thinking of its existence as a symptom able to be defeated, it is better described as one that exists on a spectrum; always present with fluctuating intensity. This gave me my first clue and sparked the start of an understanding that I needed to take a step back; way back, and examine everything about myself and my life.

This is has been my mental state since I moved earlier this year, and is what I was trying to convey in that initial post. I was trying to do the best that I could in examining the priorities that required immediate attention, but I was clouded. I had no help for the confusion in my head, the intensity of my emotions and despite my efforts, I felt failed by the very system designed to help me work it out. It seemed as if there was no one interested. Of course that’s going to make things COMPLETELY WORSE.

I was mostly overwhelmed by the sense of complete failure for my children. What kind of example am I setting? How do I navigate raising my family when I cannot pilot my own course? Where do I find the courage, strength and will to dig deeper than I could possibly want to, and have never done?

I can probably guess that you’re thinking, “It really cannot be that difficult, Faith.”

Let me put it to you this way. It has been like driving a car blind. Not blindfolded; blind. You have no idea what you’re doing, where you’re supposed to go or if you can rely on anything else. Perhaps it’s a weak analogy but it’s simple enough to understand; that this isn’t so simple.

For the majority of my life I have searched outwardly for the answer to placating my mental health. Doctors, medications, my parents, placing blame on particular circumstances; and whilst there is significance in acknowledging these things as having a contribution to my mental health, I realised that it might not be as significant as responsibly reflecting inwardly and actively making changes that will eventually manifest themselves outwardly. At the end of the day it is my responsibility now to ensure my own happiness, because I don’t have a time machine and I can’t expect those who have done wrong by me to accept responsibility for their shit behaviour, put aside their egos and support me for once.

But I can do it on my own.

I have touched on CBT in an earlier post and I understand that it works because it was working very well for a while. Somewhere along the way though, I failed myself for not implementing the techniques, whether due to, hopelessness, lack of support or complacency; there are a number of reasons why it just didn’t happen but I know that I definitely struggled this time with starting from the beginning because it meant; starting from the beginning. And I didn’t want to.

It isn’t out of character for me to jump the gun because (and as much as this sounds like a brag, I promise it isn’t) I am intuitive and perceive things quicker than most; but what I possess in anticipation and observation I lack in appreciation for the subtleties of what can be learned from allowing the process to occur organically. In other words, I rely too much on what I understand to happen, instead of learning from the process itself. Journey over destination type of stuff, I’m sure you get the idea. I consider it as a form of self sabotage because I am trying to control aspects of my life that sometimes are unable to be or shouldn’t be controlled and in the process I am eliminating the possibilities for something better.

Intuition or not, I just don’t want there to be failures. I am afraid of them. I am ashamed of them and at all costs, I will avoid them.

I preach that the road of failure can lead to success but as it appears I do not follow it, at least not entirely and that is fucking difficult to admit to. I don’t know if it was altogether subconscious, or if I deliberately chose to ignore the fact that I wasn’t giving my best to my own cause for a stable and more beneficial life.

lmao, except me

I don’t understand why I felt the need to pretend. Perhaps it was the way I was brought up, to pretend to be something I wasn’t. But up until this point, I wasn’t trying to sustain a balanced lifestyle and I wasn’t attending therapy as often as I should have been, if at all, and whilst some of the things I have ignored were indeed out of my hands, I still didn’t acknowledge it appropriately. I remained silent in responding to the warning bells.

I think what has been an underlying problem is reconciling what has and hasn’t been my fault. What can I blame on someone or something else? What do I accept responsibility for? These are questions that frequent my thoughts.

The truth is this; it doesn’t matter, it just is.

The important thing is how I choose to move forward with this new perspective.

I have been so focused on trying to navigate through the muck that I have become entrenched in it. I have been so focused on a just resolution for some of the circumstances I’ve dealt with over the last several months, clung to the inadequacies of my childhood that have been bred in me and what I have been nurtured into, that I have forgotten how unnecessary an ingredient that is to consider, when forging a brighter future. I have wanted for so long to feel like I belong that I haven’t truly celebrated the things that make me different, and I don’t even know what those things are! But I think it’s time to spend a minute on figuring them out.

Although this realisation is a great thing, from where I am standing the peak of potential is immeasurably distant and I cannot see it. What’s the point in working toward something if I am unable imagine it? How can I keep myself motivated without knowing what waits for me at the end? I say to my husband all the time that I cannot see my future, I am unable to make plans because I don’t know what I want, because I don’t know who I am. There is no sense of self, no identity. And all of this scares me.

It’s almost pre-teen; “What does my life mean?” “Who am I?” and yeah, in some respects, it actually is. But I can’t comment on that as of yet, not until I have confirmation from my psychologist (lol) who I have started seeing again after a few months of trying to seek help. When I told her my fear of failing, of not being able to see a future, she simply said, “Don’t look up so far. See the peaks closer to the ground and once you’ve reached those, start again.” I’m paraphrasing a bit because my memory is THE worst.

The funny thing about that is; I wasn’t ready to hear it until that moment. This isn’t a particularly fresh perspective and it’s widely accepted as the best way to start achieving anything. I’ve heard it before and I’ve always told myself that I am too far along for that, I have been there and I have done that, and it doesn’t work. But I wasn’t willing to listen before that moment. I was expecting results overnight.

I felt a sense of peace because it was literally the missing piece of what I have been searching for, what I was trying to write about earlier this year. Setting goals to find my authenticity.

For the first time in either a long time, or ever for that matter; I have a picture of where I am headed, and for now, I am content with that. If I knew at the beginning of the year what I have learned I wouldn’t appreciate it because I’ve learned that I am capable of a lot more than what I believed I was. I learned that my well was dry but that there are other ways to find water in the desert. I wouldn’t have learned the value in patience and allowing circumstances to naturally run their course. I wouldn’t have learned to let go of some things and understanding that letting it go doesn’t mean forgetting. I wouldn’t have learned that my experiences, although late to be lived, are my own, and I need to live them.

For the first time, I am happy to say that life sucks, but hindsight has shown me that it has been a lot worse and that I don’t need to see into the future. I just need to wake up tomorrow and start again.

Faith x

Oh, into and outro. Spicy.

Yeah nah, let me get a little candid.

I’m a little rusty in this post and my point might not come across as succinct as I would like it to be because it has been a hot minute since I have sat down to write, and it be worthy of posting. My creativity and editing needs a fine tune as well, so I apologise for the rustic feel.

I’ve been writing since I was a little girl, authoring my own stories complete with illustrations and writing ‘fan fiction’ for Captain Underpants (not joking), also complete with illustrations. I know, double threat Queen over here, keep up. No one read these except for my family because I was a complete idiot; I was 6 or 7 and didn’t understand what confidence was. I could have authored several books with a movie franchise by now if I knew (hindsight right 😉). I kept them to myself so that I could get lost in the stories I created and shared only the ones that I wanted to bring others into.

I am by no means a professional and I don’t pretend to be. I don’t restrict myself to the intricacies of the English language because that is the beauty of writing in this style. No one cares.

But within the last 5 or so months, someone close to me told me this blog was nothing and asked me (and I quote), “who would want to read something so depressing?” The question that prompted this was why they didn’t share anything that I wrote, why they didn’t engage or encourage the content. I used to put a lot of effort into my blog, because I am deeply passionate about mental health. If I can contribute to this space with whatever I can offer, I want to do it.

So, their response made me feel a deep embarrassment, followed by deep regret for baring my soul to the world, followed by a deep sadness that lingers. Basically, it’s been a deep deepness for the last several months. Generally these comments would be ineffective because I would expect to receive them from strangers.

But because they came from a person who initially encouraged me to pursue this blog, who told me they were proud of what I was doing, that I had a talent and could use it to inspire other people, or help other people like me; it completely crushed me. They were a significant influence over my decision to start it in the first place and I don’t understand at what point their opinion changed. It has taken a few months to reconcile how I feel about writing, because it is something that I love doing and for all the positive feedback I receive, it appears other people appreciate it as well.

To this person, I just wanted to say; thank you. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to see the sort of person I do not want to be. I am going to keep writing, not only because of the subject matter but because of how it makes me feel. The person I want to be is one who encourages, accepts and rises above. It would be very easy to submit to the same bitterness you harbour and allow it to swallow me whole, and I have wanted to because that is easier; that is cowardly; but I cannot let your careless opinion dampen the spirit I have for this blog, or for my story and for where I want to take it. Truth will out and it will be me who comes out on top.