Tag Archives: suicide

10 Years Alive

We all have and celebrate milestones in our lives and the lives of those around us.  Most commonly we recognize birthdays and wedding anniversaries.  I know as some of us get older, we don’t like to celebrate our birthdays like we used to.  But we all have a birthday, so it’s still a regular milestone.  We celebrate the first day of school for a young kindergartener and the last day of school at graduation, and all the first and last days of each school year in between.  It’s not uncommon to have a celebration at a job for an employee that has been with the company for 10, 20, or more years, and especially at retirement.  I know some people that celebrate sobriety, by the day, week, or the year.  Some celebrate and make a big deal for a pet’s birthday or “gotcha” day.  Military service time, years of home ownership, a sports team’s championships, or anything else that is a big deal to someone.  We like to celebrate and remember things that brought us joy.  All of these things and many more are wonderful reasons to celebrate. 

I have a milestone to share.  I’m celebrating 10 years of not dying.  It sounds weird to say it that way since I’ve successfully not died every single day since I was born more than 54 years ago.  I guess every day above ground is a milestone for each of us to celebrate.  But a decade ago it wasn’t certain that I would maintain that streak.  I could have, and probably should have, died one night.  Some of my memories from that timeframe are clear as a bell in my mind and other parts of it are a foggy haze that doesn’t seem real.  It seems more like a dream that never really happened.  But it did.

On August 2, 2015, I attempted suicide and failed.  I won’t go into all the details here, but I will share a link to the blog I posted in February 2016, where I talked about that night and what was going on.  It’s surreal to look back at it, to re-read that blog post.  I refer to that timeframe in my life as “the lowest point of my life” when speaking about it in conversation.  It was also my darkest time.  And my loneliest, my scariest, and most uncertain time in my life.  I hadn’t expected to survive, so I had no plan, no idea what I was going to do after I came to and had to face my family and friends and myself.  It took almost 6 months to get to the point where I wasn’t pissed off for failing.  And even then, it was a long road to get to where I would be out of danger from my own mind. 

Battlefield

I’ve always been open about my journey when it comes to surviving my suicide attempt.  The reason I do that is because it helps others.  I’m not embarrassed by it.  I was for a short time after it happened, but not anymore.  I’ve shared about going to war and my military experiences that may have contributed to my mindset of wanting to die.  I’ve shared raw, unfiltered emotions on Story of My Life because I feel that it’s important to tell it like it is when it comes to life and death.  And I’ve also shared the part of my journey of recovering from it all.  Honestly, it’s a lifelong recovery and I stay on top of it.

As I look back over the last 10 years, I feel blessed far beyond what I deserve.  To be where I am right now is mind boggling compared to where I was the night law enforcement officers found me unresponsive in 2015.  Early on after my failed attempt, there were times when I took one step forward just to be shoved two or three steps back.  There were times when I couldn’t even take a step forward and would still be pushed back.  The first six months were very discouraging and my dark thoughts would sometimes try to take over.  It was a frustrating time of fighting with myself. 

But in 2016, I had finally found a treatment/counseling plan that worked for me.  It was still a rough time, but it looked like it would finally start going in the right direction.  It was going to be a lot of work, and I was the only one that could do it.  No one else could do it for me.  Sure, there were plenty of people there for me, but the work would be my sole responsibility.  I was the only one that could be accountable for moving forward and getting better.  I experienced both setbacks and accomplishments during that year.  I had a troubling situation at one point that almost put me back into a similar low point that I was still trying to recover from.  And that situation came at a time when everything was seemingly going well.  In retrospect, I think I might have been expecting something bad to happen since things were going well at the time and then I let it blow up worse than it really was.  I wrote a little about this in 2016.  I’ll share the link below if anyone is interested. 

Suicidal Anonymous

2017 was better.  2018 was good.  By 2019, I felt like I had achieved my new normal and I was very satisfied with it.  I would never be the same as before 2015, but I was happy.  Even after I got back to my new normal, which was good, I still initiated counseling sessions once in a while.  As recently as last year I was in counseling 2-3 times a month.  Not because anything bad happened or I was going back to a dark place.  But because I know I need it occasionally to stay on top of my mental health.  And ‘occasionally’ is much better than the nearly every week for a whole year I was going in 2016.  Everything needs maintenance, not just your car or house or tools.  You need maintenance.  And I do, too.

If you need help with thoughts of suicide, please reach out.  There are so many places and organizations that will help you find the right help.  There are also individuals that can help you; family, friends, coworkers.  I know how hard it is to ask for help, I promise you, I know.  It might be the hardest thing you ever do, but do it.  The second hardest thing will be finding the right help.  It took months for me to find the right combination of medication and therapy.  I wanted to give up after the first time “help” failed.  The truth is, mental health help is not one size fits all.  There are different styles of counseling, different medications, different specializations for doctors and therapists.  Sometimes it takes a while to get it all correct for each individual.   I think that’s a reason so many people don’t continue with it when they truly need it.  Please be patient.  Keep going back and eventually, you will find what fits you.

You might find yourself in a position to help someone dealing with suicidal thoughts, either because they asked you for help or you noticed something off and asked them if you could help.  Here’s some important things to know, especially if you have never had any training on the subject.  First, you can NOT solve their problems.  But you can be there for them to vent, cry, share their story.  And, most importantly, you can help them in the right direction to get professional help.  Second, no matter what the reason is for someone feeling like they want to kill themselves, that IS a valid reason because it’s their reason.  It might not even make sense to you.  But if someone tells you they are sad because their goldfish died and now they want to die too, that is THEIR valid reason and it needs to be treated as such.  The truth is, by the time most people get to that point, their “reason” was simply the straw that broke the camel’s back.  There were likely many things leading up to the total distress they feel about a goldfish.  Your job is simply to get them to a professional that can work through all that with them.  All you have to do is get them to the next level of help, and by doing so, you are helping them the greatest.  Look at this way.  If I have a heart attack, my wife isn’t going to call a heart surgeon to make an appointment for me.  She would call 9-1-1 to come and take me to the emergency room where they are fully equipped to deal with a heart attack while it is happening.  Then, if needed, I would be referred to a heart surgeon.  You can’t fix, cure, or solve their problems.  Just get them to a higher level of help.  Be the 9-1-1 if you’re called upon.  Don’t shy away from someone who is suicidal because you don’t know what to do.  I just told you what to do.  Do it. 

Probably around half of my 130 posts on Story of My Life talk about or reference my journey after my failed suicide attempt in one way or another.  Even ten years after the event, it’s still hard to write about, but it needs to be done.  Preparing this post, which included going through a bunch of older posts, brought its share of tears to my eyes.  It’s hard to relive that part of my life.  I am now completely drained emotionally.  But I feel like this story needs to be told.  It’s part of my ongoing, life-long road of bettering my mental health and helping others.  And it’s my 10-year milestone of not dying.  I never dreamed I would be where I am now ten years ago.

I hope you found something helpful here today.  If you need help, reach out.  If you can help, do so.  Thank you for visiting Story of My Life.  Good day, God bless.

Dave

Listen

Listen. That’s all. Not, “Listen to me” or “Listen to this.” Just listen. Sometimes the best way to help someone is to simply to listen. You don’t even need to have a solution to their problems, you just have to listen. It could make a world of difference. Aside from the mandatory, “check the box,” training we get in the army about suicide awareness and prevention, I have had plenty of in-depth training with respect to actually intervening during a serious suicidal ideation. I’m comfortable with that role. And I have done that more times than I want to remember. Not to mention, I have my own personal experience in failing at an attempt. I might not be able to relate to a person’s specific reason, but I certainly can relate to the feelings someone is going through when they are contemplating suicide. But most importantly, I listen.

Years ago, a friend of mine was going through a rough time. Not only that, he was also being moved to a different unit which contributed to his downward mental spiral. Knowing he would be leaving soon, I pulled him aside and thanked him for his impact in my army life. He was a role model to me in many ways. I was a better Soldier for having been under his leadership, and I wanted him to know that. Then, unexpectedly, he started talking. He opened up to me. He talked for about 45 minutes or so. I mostly just listened. Everything he told me is confidential because, as a chaplain assistant in the army, it stays confidential. That’s the rules. And even more so, in my mind, since he was coming to me as a friend. I didn’t think much more of it until later.

I emailed him after he left, to check on him, to see how things were going. That’s when I realized how important it was that I took the time to listen to him when I did. He made it very clear that my taking that time altered his life. Actually, saved it. In his email reply he said, “I appreciate you man because your words really gave me the chance to live another day. All jokes aside, you can really say that you saved a life man.” Funny thing is, I don’t remember talking very much. That’s because I mostly listened. Sometime later, in a Facebook message, after my failed suicide attempt, he gave me encouragement and also details about the day I stopped to talk (listen) to him. He stated, “My roommate was gone. I had all my ammo and my rifle. And I planned on doing it…I was headed to the room and you stopped me and said I love you brother… Man, I went back and loaded the weapon and cried to myself because I knew people loved me…You saved me and I am always here.” That day, the day I just wanted to let him know that I appreciated his leadership, the day that I listened to him, that unknowingly important day. I had no idea he was even considering suicide. No clue.

There are a couple of reasons this story came to mind this week. First, the son of a friend of mine took his own life recently. I’ve been messaging almost daily with that friend. And it’s been hard. I have no idea what to say. I understand the emotions my friend is going through, and it breaks my heart. But I can relate to the son that got to the point of taking his own life because I’ve been there. I tried. Without giving any details, I told another friend about messaging with the first friend, that I didn’t know what to say, that my training was in suicide prevention, and that I’m at somewhat of a loss in talking with a surviving family member after the fact. That’s when friend 2 told me I’m a good man, because I listen when people needed. That hardly makes me a good man, but I am always glad to listen when needed. That’s when I remembered my friend who says I saved his life, and I didn’t even know it at that time, all because I listened to him. That’s how this story came back to me this week. I listened. And, at the time, I had no idea how important that was. All I did was listen. That didn’t cost me anything. But it could have cost my friend his life had I not made time for him. Dear God, thank you.

Sometimes all you have to do is listen to make a difference in someone’s life. Thank you for listening to me this week. Good day, God Bless.

Dave

PTSD Moments

For those of us that live with PTSD, depression, anxiety, or any other ‘invisible’ ailment that’s hard to describe or see, we have ‘moments.’ For me, I call them “PTSD moments.” All of us that are effected deal with them, sometimes it’s overwhelming, sometimes it’s not too bad. Most of my PTSD moments have to do with trouble falling asleep, weird or bad dreams, traffic, unexpected noises. Very minor stuff in the grand scheme of life. Since starting medication a couple years ago, and going through counseling, I have learned to deal with most of these things better than I used to. I have calmed down considerably compared to the time leading up to my failed suicide attempt and the few months that followed. But I do still have an overwhelming PTSD moment occasionally. This week, I had two of those moments, almost back to back.

The first of my two PTSD moments was at the restaurant I work at in the airport. I was changing out an empty keg in a walk-in cooler that has more stuff crammed into it than it should. It’s a confined space in the corner where the kegs are kept, and very difficult to change some of them. I got the empty keg pulled out with little problem, but when I was putting the new keg in its place, it slipped and slammed to the floor. The other kegs that were stacked on each other wobbled. The combination of the loud noise with the fear of being crushed by the kegs turned into a PTSD moment for me. I instantly got a headache. My vision blurred, I lost all focus, and just wanted to go home. I couldn’t even clearly vocalize my thoughts for a few minutes after that incident. It was a similar feeling to when I got rear-ended by a vehicle doing 40 mph while I was sitting still, but without as much of the physical pain.

My second PTSD moment was only ten hours after the first one, at 1:30 in the morning. My headache had finally subsided. I had gone to bed early and I was very much asleep. And sleeping well, I might add. I was awakened by a thud, loud voices, and the sound of a waterfall. I jumped out of bed, heart racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I was ready to throw punches, but I had no idea at whom. To make a long story short, the upstairs neighbors had a plumbing problem that caused gallons of water to make its way from the bathroom in their unit to the bathroom in my unit until they could turn off the water behind their commode. Until then, it was flowing through the vent in the bathroom ceiling all over the place.

I went upstairs and knocked on the neighbor’s door. Partly to make sure everything was OK, and partly to make sure they knew that their water was showering down into my bathroom. One of them explained, “The porcelain broke while we were going to the bathroom.” What entered my mind was “While WE”? But I didn’t say anything, just wondered why were “WE” going to the bathroom? I don’t know about you, but the porcelain in my bathroom is single serve. Perhaps they exceeded the weight limit on their porcelain by trying “WE”. Yes, even though what happened next is not funny, I still try to find the humor in most everything, even with the upstairs neighbors raining toilet water into my bathroom. On a side note, that was the first time I met my upstairs neighbors.

After the commotion, I went back to bed. But I could not fall asleep. It was after 3am, probably closer to 4am when I finally dozed off again. And when I did, I had horrible, dark dreams. Very demented stuff going on in my subconscious while I tried to slumber. I won’t go into detail about what I dreamt about after waking up in full adrenaline and defense modes, but it was very disturbing to me. It was the kind of stuff my previous therapist would spend a whole session on. My dreams that morning had lots of death in them after I finally fell asleep after the waterfall incident and I’m still bothered by what my mind had going on inside it. I know I can’t really control what I dream about, but it is still unsettling.

Life went back to ‘normal’ after the two PTSD moments, whatever ‘normal’ is. But while dealing with those moments, it was tough. And not just the specific moments, but the aftermath of each moment was somewhat overwhelming. Debilitating headache, horrible dreams, brief loss of mental functions. It’s what I live with. All the progress I’ve made in the last year and a half doesn’t matter sometimes. I know I’m still, and forever will be, on a recovery road with PTSD and my PTSD moments. It’s uncommon for me lately to have a PTSD moment as severe as the two I’ve written about here. But they will still happen to me none the less. And I have little, if any, control of how I or my body and mind react to them when the moments seem severe. I think that bothers me just as much as the moments themselves, not being able to control it.

But I’m always making progress, even if I take one step back to my two steps forward. Thanks for reading this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Other posts related to this:

Memories and Afghanistan

Recovery, It’s Not That Easy.

PTSD is Contagious!

 

Road Trip

I’m on a road trip. When I post this, I’ll be somewhere on I-20, probably in Louisiana. While I have covered several topics on my blog during its existence, I usually focus on PTSD, serving in the Army at war, and surviving suicide. And occasionally I bash the VA because they suck. For example, Friday morning I waited an hour at the VA to be told they couldn’t give me a print out of a recent evaluation I had. Today’s post will be a little different from the more recent ones.

There are certain things about my home life that I have tried to keep off the blog. In a few posts I have mentioned some of the marital problems at home. There are no more problems. I have moved out. And now I’m on a road trip, heading to my sister’s house in Louisiana. I will most likely stay there until the new year sorting through my thoughts, decompressing, writing, and relaxing. I don’t get back to my old stomping grounds very often, so this will be nice.

I moved out because she wouldn’t. I had hoped she would move out and I could stay with the kids, but that’s not a fight I want to take on and make things worse than they should be for the kids. In retrospect, I should have filed for divorce when she moved out in March instead of waiting. Then there wouldn’t be anything to argue about. But I chose to pay the bills instead of hiring an attorney. That’s life. And I expect some negative feedback from our mutual friends. Be careful if you don’t know the whole story.

I left the house around 6 p.m. local time. I made it Jackson, Mississippi, before I needed to stop and get a hotel room, where I am composing this. I’ll get up in the morning and finish my trip to northwest Louisiana. I have no set plans and am not on any schedule. I hope to find the motivation to diligently work on my book. I have neglected it for too long now. I’m sure I’ll see some old friends and catch up on all the years gone by. I’ll spend some time with my dad. I’ll get some rest. I’ll miss my kids.

I talked with them earlier in the week and explained that I would be moving out this weekend. They knew it was coming since last month they were told that I had in fact filed for divorce. But that conversation was still hard. Thankfully, they are all very well-grounded and are old enough to have some understanding of what is going on. I feel like a complete schmuck that I didn’t call my two grown children that are out in the world making great lives for themselves. This whole thing happened a little quicker than originally planned and I was focused on getting my stuff together and making sure the school aged children were okay and getting a grasp of all that was going on. My children know that I love them with all my heart.

There’s a lot in my life that I’m not happy about currently. However, in my life as a whole, I am happy. I believe things are going in the right direction for me. I am not happy that I won’t see my kids for a few weeks. I am not happy that I will be going through a divorce. But I am happy to be starting the next chapter in my life. There was a time not long ago that my mind would have put me through some horrible, dark thoughts concerning the prospect of being away from children under these circumstances. Not now. Yes, my kids are my life. But if I can’t be in good mental health for them, things will get bad, like they were before. So, I guess it’s better to be away and in good mental health than to be in a bad marriage and lose my mind.

I have no idea what all this road trip entails, but I am looking forward to it. I’m in a good place in my mind. I am looking forward to the future. I don’t have all the answers and I have no idea where I’ll end up after this little sabbatical. But I am confident in myself, in ways I haven’t been for at least a couple years. The past is the past. And my future looks good from where I’m sitting. Thanks for reading my dribble drabble this week. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Suicidal Anonymous

What if there were a meeting to go to for those of us that have attempted suicide, or been stopped just in time? If I went to that meeting would I stand up and say, “Hi, I’m Dave. It’s been 4 months since my last debilitating bout with suicidal thoughts.”? Would I have to go into what brought me to that point? Would I have to disclose all the stuff about my PTSD and depression and fears and general weirdness that I deal with in my head every day? Would anyone go to such a meeting and share their innermost thoughts? I have compared recovering from suicide to alcoholism more than once. I think both are a lifelong recovery process. Both need a support group of some sort. And both require the person to be completely honest with himself. Suicidal Anonymous? We might need a better name for our group.

A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with a fellow Soldier talking about things in life. Like many other fellow Soldiers I talk to and share my story with, she was intrigued that I was so open with something so personal. Many of the people I talk to one-on-one have gone through a situation similar to mine, or have other behavioral health issues that I can relate to, not just suicidal thoughts. The most asked question of me during a conversation about my story is, “Aren’t you afraid people will look at you differently if you share that stuff?” Actually, there was a time I did fear that.

In the military, there has always been a stigma placed on those who sought help for mental health issues. Granted, it is more accepted now to seek help than when I came in the first time in 1989, even encouraged now. The Army has come a long way in the last couple decades in dealing with the matters of mental health concerning Soldiers. But it’s that first step a person has to take to get help that is by far the hardest. Asking for help or sharing the deepest secrets of your mind can be very uncomfortable. And you can’t make someone get help until they’re on the verge of it being too late, especially if that person doesn’t want help. Or at least, that’s my personal experience.

Back to the question, “Aren’t you afraid people will look at you differently?” I have accepted that I need people to look at me differently than they used to. I am different now. I see myself differently. My brain doesn’t always process things rationally anymore, although I am making progress. But I still cannot be expected to perform on the level I did before my brain changed and I got diagnosed with PTSD and other things. Therefore, I need people to understand my situation and see me for who I am now. And I need to share my experiences because it keeps me in check with myself and allows others to keep me accountable to continuing my recovery.

We don’t have a Suicidal Anonymous group for those of us recovering from our own dark thoughts and actions. Even though I went to group therapy after my hospital stay last year, in the beginning of my recovery, it felt like each one of us was our own solitary group, an island, alone in the waves somewhere. I intend to change that, and I have for myself. I tell my story. I read some of the blogs posted by others on the topic of their experiences with suicide, some posted anonymously, some with a name. I make myself available to those that need to talk about it. And I connect with all those people as if they are in a group with me, going to our anonymous meetings, whether they know it or not.

I imagine I will be in recovery for the rest of my life. Just the fact of how close I came to dying, I know it will always be somewhere in my mind. I know there are experiences that will trigger my PTSD and drive me to being severely depressed or having anger issues. But I am choosing to not be anonymous about it. I am choosing to share my story even if people look at me differently. I am choosing to be better. Not because it’s easy to choose to be better, it’s actually very difficult. But because I want to be better, choosing to be better is now a viable option.

I’m bringing this meeting to order. Hi, I’m Dave, it’s been four months since I last seriously thought about suicide, 15 months since my last attempt. I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad you’re here, too. Good day, God bless.

Dave

Other posts of mine related to this one:

I’m ok, I promise

The Pysch Ward

Battlefield