Suicidal Thoughts?

I have never actually tried to commit suicide. However, for a brief period in my life I had thoughts of ending it all.

I will not now or ever try to minimize this topic, nor do I seek to offend anyone touched by the effects of suicide. No matter if you’re the one acting on it or if someone you’ve loved has, it is an ugly business. I can only share what was happening with me during that time.

It was 2011. I was still unmediated for this wretched disease and trying to balance out my emotions on my own.

It wasn’t working.

It was his original idea for me to be a house wife, and staying home alone with nothing but me and The Sims to keep me company was a disaster. As I sunk deeper into the dark recesses of my mind I let the outside world fall apart. I didn’t cook or clean, hardly bathed, during Adult Time I laid there, and clothes littered the floor.

My husband tried to cheer me up and allowed me to get Fancy:

Fancy Pants!

I loved her to bits. She was my daily companion, but she didn’t lift the fog for long. Soon it became readily apparent that all the walking and poop scooping would be left up to the Hubby.

I could NOT shake how I was feeling. With every passing day, each annoyed glance, and silent judgement sent me deeper into myself.

I told myself every day how worthless I was. Ugly. Fat. Stupid. Disgusting. An anchor weighing the people I loved down as they had to carry me through life. All of it was confirmed for me the day my husband said he didn’t like me.

I knew I was I nothing at that point. That every breath I took from then on was a waste of perfectly good oxygen that should go to the more worthy among us. I was every dirty word, thought, or action my mind could come up with.

It is in this mindset that I was told since I wouldn’t contribute at home it was off to work for me.

I landed in a call center.

That only made the day to day worse. So it was one day as I sobbed for the millionth time I began, well thinking about my own death. How relieved those around me would be not to be weighed down by the waste that was Me. This thought began to cycle through my consciousness daily for weeks.

One particular commute to work the thoughts were so intense my knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly, and I started I gain speed. 65. 70. 75. I kept thinking, if I go fast enough and then run head long into a pole, a tree, another car, anything…it would all be over. I would never feel this way again!

The very idea of having the pain lifted was almost enough to make me do it. Almost.

As I felt the idea starting to blossom in my mind an image of my mother flashed before me. For some reason that stopped me. I pulled over, so what if I was late, put my face in my hands and cried. I cried and prayed, then cried some more. My husband called as he normally did when he finally left the house for work and was instantly worried. I told him everything. He cried asking why I would ever even consider it, we prayed together, we talked.

It was at this point we both agreed I needed counseling.

***If you are ever in need to talk. Please find someone you trust or reach out the National Sucide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255

Why am I Unmedicated?

I want to state clearly I am not Anti-Traditional Medicine, Doctors, or anything of the sort. I am normally the first one to run off to the doctor asking for help.

 

I loved Wellbutrin when I had it. It was great. Until I started getting daily eye twitches and my doctor suggested I get off. On to another white pill I can’t recall that killed my uh…Adult Time Drive as well made me feel Nothing. When I say nothing I mean NOTHING. I wasn’t happy, sad, annoyed, or anything. I zombied through that for about 2 months and my husband did not appreciate it. So back to the doctor I went and I was given Lexapro and Celexa. Both made me feel sick. I started vomiting. It didn’t matter the dose, how much or little I ate, what time of day, etc. I was always sick. Then that led to me feeling guess what? DEPRESSED. So I decided if I was going to feel depressed anyway I wasn’t taking that crap.

To get all of those prescriptions was a nightmare. With my medical insurance each doctor’s visit cost $150. Then I paid for the pills which was $15 for a 30 day supply. At the time a 90 supply was completely out of budget since I had just spent $150 just to have an appointment. By the way, that’s a load of crap. I vividly remember my last doctors visit. My appointment was at 10 am. I checked in at 9:55. Called in at 10:15. Was in my car by 10:25. Yes. That’s right. One 10 minute visit cost me $150 a MONTH. I don’t know about you but at the time we were poor newlyweds and that’s a lot of money. Did we try to budget for it? Ask parents for help? You bet! That is still a lot of money.

So fast forward to today. I am in an even worse financial situation due to my separation, crap job, and loss of health insurance. So guess who still doesn’t have any meds? This girl. Guess who feels like the weight of a an elephant rests on her chest with each breath? 

animal big elephant endangered
Yeah imagine this guy sitting on your chest and its just a baby!!

This girl.

It takes everything to just push through the day.

And for those of you who like the more natural route I have been using St. John’s Wort to try and assist with the dark cloud permanently parked over my brain. It helps. Barely. It allows me to get to work and not quit on life the moment I open my eyes in the morning. I’m still not living though.

Thanks for reading. I feel like I just vomited everything out for the day and can rest a little bit.

-Nesa, Ms. Nobody

 

 

Bio Time…A little

I was officially diagnosed at age 15 as well as them telling me I was showing signs of someone with Bipolar Disorder. However due to various reasons I never really went back for further treatment until age 23. By then I was married and making my husband absolutely miserable. Still do at times when he had to deal with my extreme lows. It was actually his idea for me to write a blog/online diary of sorts. Our relationship right now is highly complicated and that…is a topic for another day. Anyway! I have a history of mental illness on both sides of my family so thanks parents for that one! Love you guys to death but jeez…

I want to say that I have a better relationship with my father now as an adult, and I absolutely love my mother. Growing up however neither of my parents were diagnosed with anything and I grew up with unmedicated/treated parents. When you have a bipolar parent there are times when things get a little scary (never abusive guys. That never happened) for a little kid. My mother has what I call her Demon Face. When she is enraged or angry, it is the scariest thing. Even now when she is speaking sternly to my little cousin she is raising, I tend to leave the room because I start to feel slightly timid.

Right now I am dealing with my depression unmedicated. Let me tell you, it FREAKING SUCKS. Its a horrible cycle to be in. Right now, I’m in what I personally call a depressive spiral. For me that means I am heading to bottom. I have lost interest in the last little things I used to love. Books were my refuge. They would take me out of my brain for a while and I could be another person, with a different life, different challenges…anyone or anything but myself. For a few hours I was gone. I can’t concentrate long enough to read whole novels any more. It takes so much energy to read that I give up and toss the book aside. My only interests are sleeping and tv. Even that gets boring after a while.

Ideas? Comments? Concerns? Let me know, I’m here to…well I guess connect.

-Nesa, Ms. Nobody

Tonights Menu: Lack of Motivation

I am not a professional writer. My lifelong dream was to be a published author with a couple hundred fans. I’ve never dreamed BIG mostly just medium, at least i consider it medium. I am appalled, disgusted, annoyed, pissed off, and just overall upset to report that I haven’t pursed that dream since high school.

I dabble in amateur poetry (if interested you can check that out @nesainspired on IG), little short stories, etc. I never truly try to write anything of substance though. Depression though partly my fuel, it also saps the last lingering bits of creativity. Depression + Adulting = Death of my Muse. 

adult art conceptual dark

Even as I write this now I am under two layers of blankets watching Naked and Afraid,  an empty wine bottle to my left, and trash across my desk/nightstand/dirty clothes hamper.

I have found that I lack all motivation to do anything that requires more than stuffing my face and going to the bathroom. For 2 years I’ve hovered over the same weight and in the last 3 months have ballooned from 188 lbs to 206 lbs. I don’t know what happened.

Currently I am simply going through the motions of what is now my life. I went from loving family to lonely wreck. BUUUUUUT!!!

On the bright side I’m not paying rent anymore and have a tad bit more money for another bottle of wine.

I am sure there is a more eloquent way to describe living with depression, however as you can see already I am not the type for such speech. 

-Nesa, Ms. Nobody

An Intro of Sorts

I don’t understand why i’m doing this. In the age of instamodels, makeup blogs, videos galore, who on earth spends time reading the mindless ramblings of a nobody?

I don’t know how often I will write or even if I will continue, but I get ahead of myself.

You can call me Nesa. She is a person I created to help me speak. Through her I can be fearless and express my feelings under anonymity. Why would I hide from the world? I guess because like others I fear judgement, rejection, criticism, etc. A big fat internet chicken

nature bird animal farm
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

One would think that shouting my ramblings into the void that is the internet would be enough to embolden me to speak under my true name. However, we haven’t reached that point yet.

 

I will say I am in my late twenties. Married (but separated). No kids. Living back at home. Dead end job. I have goals of a more spiritual nature so I try not to complain too much about the money. However, being broke sucks. Big dreams sometimes require big money…or even medium money. I have poor folks money. So those dreams will either never come to fruition because I have more immediate matters to tend to, or they will just sit on the back burner.

 

If you’ve read this far kudos for you! And a big fat thanks from me. I like to pretend my thoughts matter, even to strangers.

 

So i want to know from you, are you a Nobody too? We grow up being told the world is ours! Do whatever you want! Dream big! Great things will come!

 

That’s not always true. Don’t get me wrong, it can and does happen for some people. If that’s you, AWESOME! I applaud you and your support system. If it’s just you, know I’m proud of you and don’t even know you!

casual cheerful confident facial expression
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

But if you’re like me, and your life has completely been thrown upside down through no direct fault of you own (or maybe being abandoned with $1 to my name is my fault too? *shrug*), and you’re just overall unhappy at this particular point in your life…lets complain together. Maybe some ideas will organically arise and we will be encouraged. Maybe.

                                   Nesa, Ms. Nobody