SusanofO
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Joined: 12/19/2005
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ownedgirlie: Geez. I had no idea this was happening to you right now (or rather, within your realm of relatives). I'll say some prayers. Sorry to hear of it, but glad you were able to get it off your chest. I tried it once, too (actually twice - but it was over 25 years ago, (and a few years ago) and I'd never ever do it again (she said, crossing her fingers). I do believe that life is a gift. But - people who are in the grip of that deep, gaping emotional black-hole aren't thinking about things ever getting better, they just want Out, mostly. Of course I realize I cannot speak for everyone. Glad it's over - so very very glad. I truly haver been under the impression that almost everyone had at least had it cross their mind at one time or another at some point, although I could be way off-base there).
I will say, though, that I am very glad I found anti-depressants that work with my bodu chemistry. I hope your husband can find his way to seeing a good doctor and-or psychiatrist. Why shoud people suffer this needlessly when medical and pharmacuetical help is available? For me, "talk therapy" just did nothing, because my depression is entirely bio-chemical (and hereditary). Anti-depressants were like waking up to a whole new life - I never had any idea I could walk around and not feel like general _hit all the time. It was like the sun suddenly came up or something. My entire life changed. All of a sudden I felt happy, for "no good reason" (imagine that)! I'd never known one could feel good all the time. I'd just assumed everyone else felt cruddy most of the time, too, anf that it woild just go on like that - forever. I never talked about it much (it was a kind of "taboo" topic around my mother, for various reasons).
I'd gone through college making copious notes re: Every text-book chapter I read, because my memory was so bad, due to depression, I could never seem to remember anything for longer than about 10 minutes, even though I am supposedly fairly bright. My brain just wasn't working very well (but, my dad wouldn't let me quit college and insisted I was going to graduate. Which I did, with honors). This hellish see-saw of symptoms went on for six years. I thought it would never end. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep (or slept all the time). It wasn't my fault. It's an illness, and a physical one, with physical symptoms. I am thanking God that people are starting to let it "out of the closet". I don't dwell on it, and hardly even think about it at all, anymore, except when topics like this come up sometimes, and of course I do take my pills every day. But, I do think that - for heaven's sake, people die due to ignorance and stupid myths about this illness needlessly all the time.
At the time I first got hit by this, meds were still in the "dark ages" and the side effects were terrible. I must have tried about 15 different ones. Then one year, I found one that really, really worked well for me. And it made all the difference in the world.
Of course everyone is different, and getting someone to actually see a doctor can be very hard at times. But if he hasn't done it, he really should (and of course you already know that). Also, it might not be wise to intervene yourself, especially if you are trying to "disengage" (and I am sure you've decided already what you need to do here, too. I am not trying to butt in, but know how painful these situations cna sometimes be, and so if you needf an ear, e-mail me). In any case, he probably needs to get himself a good support system (and maybe not you. And it's not up to you to "save him" either, but these scenarios can be very tough sometimes, I think, to deal with). Maybe someone else who knows both of you could do that (intervene, if necessary, to get him help ) instead? Anyway, good luck. I know you have a wonderful master who is probably helping you through this. But please do feel free to e-mail me if you need to talk.
- Susan
< Message edited by SusanofO -- 12/7/2006 3:42:08 AM >
_____________________________
"Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all". - Emily Dickinson
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RE: myths about suicide - 
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