City, Panicked

quirky. almost thirty. female. professional consumer of mental health services. too many diagnosis to track. dog lover. occasional fitness enthusiast. social media junkie.
Recent Tweets @CityPanicked

I think I may have figured it out. My life. I know it won’t fix everything. That I will still need medication. Therapy. And I just figured out where and how I want this to happen. I have dreams and I am going to make them all come true. One moment at a time.

I can’t get into any further detail just yet. (I don’t want to jinx myself!) But I want you all along for the journey…through the good and the bad. Sneak peaks and little changes coming soon!


An important promise tw: suicide

Previously, when depressed and feeling suicidal, I would talk about rehoming the dogs. I would cry and apologize to them that I wasn’t going to be there for them the way I promised. I tried to make arrangements with friends to ensure their care. I had money set aside so that anything they needed would all be paid for and taking them in wouldn’t be a burden. The end game was that I would be dead. I would hold them tight and choke on my tears as I worried it might be the last time.

This morning was different. I had woken up crying in the middle of the night, which meant I couldn’t go back to sleep for some time. I’m not sure why my sleepy crying happens but my dreams must be pretty sad. I rarely remember them and that is probably a good thing. Anyhow, I woke up again at a more normal hour but it didn’t even take 30 minutes for me to be sobbing. There are so many thoughts and fears and chemical imbalances in my brain that this, unfortunately, has become commonplace. Some days the anxiety comes first and reminds me that I am still not well, which leads to depression. Other days, I wake up beyond the darkest depths of sad. I wake up and just want to die. My brain flashes to pills and the crafting knife that I idiotically keep on my bedroom dresser. Yeah, today was one of those days.

But something different happened. I looked at each of those dogs and I repeated the same promise I made when I adopted each one of them.

"I will be here for you for your entire life. I promise."

My life is messier and more painful everyday but I will fight to make sure I keep that promise. I will sell all of my belongings and live somewhere where life is simple and I can create. That is my dream.


Killing oneself is, anyway, a misnomer. We don’t kill ourselves. We are simply defeated by the long, hard struggle to stay alive. When somebody dies after a long illness, people are apt to say, with a note of approval, "He fought so hard." And they are inclined to think, about a suicide, that no fight was involved, that somebody simply gave up. This is quite wrong.
Sally Brampton

My glasses are streaked with tears, my eyes swollen, and my lids heavy. I look through them again and I see just how alone I am.

I’ve pushed away everyone. Absolutely everyone. I left work early yesterday as I felt the tears start down my face. I stayed home today when I began sobbing and couldn’t stop.

The Ativan is working to deal with the immediate panic but it isn’t enough to get me out of the house. Nothing is strong enough to deal with this depression. I need to pick up meds and get paper towels - and this is why I cannot live alone. I can’t even get the most basic and absolutely essential things. I have food but no energy to make it. I have no money to order pizza because now I have to save for yet another move. Come November 1st, I will have a new “home” and I am terrified. I don’t ever want to move again. My brain can’t handle it. But I have no choice.