The Suicide Journal

"Give it to me doc... Give it to me straight... I'm ready.. Come on out with it." She was taking too long. I wanted to choke the words out of her. Instead, I put my hands under my butt and began rocking back and forth. The sound of the wax paper wrinkling on top of the hospital bed was irritating but I couldn't control my nerves enough to stop moving. 

"Ms. Clay, you're not bipolar, you seem to have Mood Disorders. We think you're severely depressed. You've been suffering for a long time. You were very brave to come here today." 

"So do I need medication? What will happen next?" I was overwhelmed with relief but still so confused. She suggested  Shepard Pratt for a few weeks. Shepard Pratt? Hell no, I'm not that crazy... Am I? 

*** 

In suicide watch, you can't take anything with you, but I had a paper due in my PhD course so I was able to convince the docs to let me take books and my journal. They couldn't let me have a pen because I, a writer, could potentially use my number 1 tool for creative release, to hurt myself. So, they gave me this green highlighter and put me in a tiny room where I was to be monitored and tested. 

This was 1 YEAR AGO TODAY, when I surrendered myself. It was EB who pushed me to get help when she said, "If you were my daughter..." I thought about my future daughter and realized, if I didn't get help, chances are, she would be in the same space as I was that day: alone, motherless child, needing to get help because I never did. 

I spent 10 hours there before the doctors came with my diagnoses and the suggestion to spend a few weeks in Shepard Pratt... I chose not to go to there and I also did not work on my paper, I filled this journal until the marker ran out. It has taken 9 journals to cope throughout this year since that day, uncountable tears, and breakthrough after breakthrough. I am considering today my re-birth day. 1 year of re-learning who I am. Things are so different now. The voices are still here, the nights aren't always easy to sleep through, but I am alive and breathing and dammit I feel good because I know there's nothing "wrong" with me. I was just born into some bullsh't. But my spirit has always fought to overcome it and thats the main cause of my inner battles. 

The only way to break the chains that I was born with was to face them. I no longer run from my issues like I was inadvertently taught to do by the women in my family who didn't know any better. I find strength in that which was meant to break me. 

Now, my label is soothing. It's my net. It's my, "I'm sad today but tomorrow I will be happy." It's my, "I just can't get out of bed today, rather be alone and just lay here and think." I don't always know when the lows will happen but I am better now, knowing what's happening. 

This post is for you, you that needs to stop talking to your friends, who will never understand and talk to a professional. You are not alone. I love you. 



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