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People Caring, Sleep, And All That Good Stuff
Written by Sean on Sunday, July 11, 2010
Lots of responses to my previous post about My End Of The Road. Thank you for commenting. I appreciate the comments. There is so much to say, and so little energy, and so few words. As the Suzanne Vega song says: "If language were liquid, it would be rushing in" 1.
So here I am. Still with my head in a bad space. And still unable to express properly how I feel. Because words fail me. I’ve answered a few emails, and I’ve let the comments on that post pile up.
Sleep
One of the things someone said was to sleep loads. Alas, I am stuck in a viscious circle there. When I sleep, I am assailed by nightmares. The "stop-breathing-wake-up-in-sweat-it’s-so-horrible" kind of nightmares. The only nights I have not had nightmares recently were the nights I took sleeping pills. In theory, sleeping pills are good to help with resting, but no, they help you sleep – it is not the same thing. REM sleep is the period of sleep that is most restful. Funny enough, it’s also the period of sleep where you have dreams. The sleeping tablets are good at culling the nightmares because they affect REM sleep. No nightmares, and no rest. Clever, huh?
Last night, I was awake in pain at 2 in the morning. I pulled out a bit of watercolours and did this. I had no idea where I was going with it, it just happened. I finally went to sleep, thanks to the little pills. I woke up and saw it and immediately thought that it looks like the person is not doing too good.
A doodle done in the night.
It sure doesn’t help not to be able to get decent rest.
People Caring and Depending On Me
Another leitmotiv is that if I die, all of you will lose me, and it’ll create this great big gap in your lives. I acknowledge that. While I care about each and everyone of you, frankly, I do not have the martyr’s gene – I cannot persist living in hell just for your benefit. I do not say this out of meanness, or because I don’t care. Heck, if I didn’t care so much, I’d have closed down the site a long time ago (and I’ve come close, very close, some people know that). I shan’t be a hypocrit, I benefit from having the site. But it is also giving all of you a huge part of myself. And before anyone suggests I should stop giving of myself, it is really one of the only thing that keep me going, knowing that in some ways I help a few people.
Don’t Worry
No, don’t worry people, I’m not actively planning to kill myself. Telling you I was about to kill myself was not the goal of my previous post. I was simply saying that at some poing in the near future, if something drastic doesn’t happen, I’ll end up dead. I do not want to die, I’ve said it before. And I won’t actively plan anything (I’m too much of a coward for that I think). But I very much fear that at one point, it will be too much. And I further fear that the moment at which it will be too much will also be the moment I’m in front of a cliff I can easily step off and plummet down. There is no plan – but it seems inevitable.
I will go on. I will go through the routine of my life. Not enjoying it, despite a laugh here and there. Not living, but surviving. I will do that because it’s what I’ve always done. And I’ll keep thinking of my cousin who jumped off a high bridge – missing him, and fully understanding how his pain led him to that jump – and hoping that if I end up jumping, you’ll be able to understand why.
Suzanne Vega – Language
Here’s the song, a favourite of mine, from the album "Solitude Standing"
If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be
These words are too solid
They don’t move fast enough
To catch the blur in the brain
That flies by and is gone
Gone
Gone
Gone
I’d like to meet you
In a timeless, placeless place
Somewhere out of context
And beyond all consequences
Let’s go back to the building
(Words are too solid)
On Little West Twelfth
It is not far away
(They don’t move fast enough)
And the river is there
And the sun and the spaces
Are all laying low
(To catch the blur in the brain)
And we’ll sit in the silence
(That flies by and is)
That comes rushing in and is
Gone (Gone)
I won’t use words again
They don’t mean what I meant
They don’t say what I said
They’re just the crust of the meaning
With realms underneath
Never touched
Never stirred
Never even moved through
If language were liquid
It would be rushing in
Instead here we are
In a silence more eloquent
Than any word could ever be
And is gone
Gone
Gone
And is gone
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5 Comments
Not just clonazepam. Lots of drugs to help with sleep quality and such, possibly allow you to get REM but not the nightmares. Worth trying if not already.
Can only apologise for appalling sentence structure.
Don’t worry, you say. I’ll explain why I’m worried, Sean.
Yesterday I spent many hours talking with, and hugging, my teenage friend who has multiple mental illnesses. She was telling me about the thoughts she has of driving off the road and dying. I understand this. I have had such thoughts countless times. I told her about that time on top of the mountain, six years ago, wanting to get struck by lightning. I told her about my subsequent discussion with my psychotherapist.
My psychotherapist asked me if I’d been planning a suicide attempt. I said no. She talked to me at length about how one’s risk taking behaviours can increase if one has suicidal ideation even if one is not making active attempts.
In retrospect, an objective analysis of the number and proximity of lightning strikes on that mountain suggests that it was more probable for me to have died than not. But what matters in any case is what was in my mind. I wanted to die. I wanted to get struck by lightning. I wasn’t afraid. Any death would be better than continuing to live. I literally stretched my hands to the heavens welcoming that thunderbolt.
I seem to have this penchant for plausible deniability, evading self responsibility. Whether it be self cutting or suicide, people can say “She had a hiking accident.” How very convenient!
What my young friend did for me yesterday was to enable me to see through my own bullshit. For the first time I was able to admit to myself that standing on that mountain six years ago WAS in fact a suicide attempt. The plausible deniability is just a bunch of crap. Right here right now I admit it for the first time ever. I made a suicide attempt.
This is why I am worried, Sean. “There is no plan – but it seems inevitable.” Yes, I do understand why. But it’s not going to lessen my pain.
I second the clonazepam suggestion. It works for me, too. Lately, Valium was added into the mix with the specific purpose of controlling my muscle pain. I take it at bedtime and wake up feeling much better.
No, I am just not able to let this subject go. It is far too personal. Like Sean, I had a cousin who committed suicide. I had a friend who committed suicide. My father was plagued by suicidal thoughts. For a long time I had daily suicidal thoughts, until a few months ago.
Urgh! My thoughts are so jumbled by the intensity of emotion, I am reaching an impasse in writing. I’ll try to bite off a small chunk.
Gravity, Sylvie. You are among those who have entered my heart. Things you have written have helped me. You have touched me and I have had empathy. Neither you nor I can escape that you have become forever a part of me.
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1 On 11 July, 2010, Chloe said:
Paying attention to anything other than the elephant in the room may seem pointless. Nevertheless I have the impression that some of us have been better able to deal with our BIID by giving attention to some of our other, albeit lesser, problems. You have a LOT of stuff going on besides BIID, Sean. So do I. So do many of us.
So…sleep. Yes it’s really important. There are several things which can disturb my sleep and make me feel like shit the next morning: anxiety, muscle spasms, nightmares. I’ve never taken sleeping pills, but I do take clonazepam before going to bed. Once in a while I run out before the prescription gets refilled, so I know what it’s like without it. Like you, I am assailed by nightmares and I wake up feeling absolutely exhausted. Clonazepam fixes this. Now I feel like a big hypocrite because I said it was a waste of time suggesting blah de blah medication. But, have you tried clonazepam for sleep issues? Well, have you? Maybe you have, and I’m forgetting. If so, then I apologise. If not, then DO IT!
This may sound like a trivially small step to take, but it’s a step that you CAN do. Sometimes so many things pile up on us that the magnitude of it all seems overwhelming, and there appears to be no way out. One approach is to tackle a very small part of our issues that we may just be able to have some control over. It’s like the joke “How do you eat an elephant?” “One spoonful at a time.”