Suicide

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This is a descriptive post about a family members suicide and suicidal thoughts that run in my family If you are squeamish or have trigger problems stop now!


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In reading an article on flipboard yesterday I was devastated to read of a twenty eight year old preacher's son that committed suicide. I do not know this preacher or his written works. I had never met his son and yet I was devastated  Sounds odd, I know. His son committed suicide, it was reported, because he could no longer deal with his mental illness. It was vague on exactly what this poor man suffered from except to say maybe depression.
There is a failure in the system. Not just here in America but everywhere around the world. There is a failure not only in how we treat mental illness but also in how we view those that suffer from it. For every famous person that has a relative or they themselves that commit suicide there are many more that do it unnoticed by the media. I can't help but feel like we have failed these people somehow. It tears me up to see that people so young are feeling this lost and feel they have no other option but to end it. I am frustrated that I have no idea how to help them.
We live in a world where most psychiatrist's offer a slew of medications and send you on your way.It can be confusing on which ones to choose. Many of them are not totally sure of your ailment but are willing to throw medicine at it. Sometimes it works and sometimes it does not. Therapists are also a great tool but you have to find one that your insurance covers and one that not only makes you comfortable but also knows about your specific mental illness. There are hotlines to call which is a terrific thing. There are hospitals to go to if you feel like harming yourself. There are blogs and websites to get information and support. There are books on how to get help. Still some of these people fall through the cracks and it makes me sick to my stomach. These people are good people. These people are members of the mental illness community. These people are us.
It bothers me on such a deep level because I have suicide and suicidal tendencies in my family.

My great uncle was by all reports a terrific man. He was kind and had a way with the ladies. He was funny and worked hard all of his life. He bought my grandma her favorite candies and taught her to ride a bike. He was her favorite uncle. He was a real person with emotions, memories, and faults. We really have no idea why he did it. There is speculation that he was ill and the doctors could find nothing wrong with him. There was no mention of mental illness but most likely my family would not have admitted or even talked about such things at that time. One day he decided to end it all. He went into his trailer, laid on a quilt my great grandmother had made for him, took a shotgun and blew his brains out. It was 1982 and he was sixty nine years old. I was three. I have only one vague fuzzy memory of him smiling at me. That quilt was washed and pressed and given to my mother because it meant so much to him that no one had the heart to throw it away. It was later used as  my blanket growing up as a child. Seems a little creepy but it was a beautiful quilt. We kept it until it started to fall apart and later burned in the fire that engulfed our shed. It was never hidden from me that he killed himself. We all admitted it but in hushed tones and with heavy hearts. There were not as many tests and mental health information like there is now, so maybe he could have been helped. We will never know the answer to that question. What we do know is that he suffered. That he shot himself while my great grandparents were mowing the lawn. That he left no note. That my great grandfather had to break in and find his younger brother's dead body. That my great grandmother had to clean his blood and brains off the floor. That it was not romantic or beautiful. It was an ugly end to an amazingly beautiful man. That it scarred them in ways I can not imagine and that it in turn scarred the rest of us. Suicide is sometimes described with beautiful imagery or memes of stick figures shooting themselves. There are memes that jokingly say if you have this tattoo or have done this kill yourself. A fact I find highly disturbing  There are many ways to do it but they are all ugly, and all terribly sad. I ache for him and my great grandparents. There was no real help and they suffered needlessly. These are the kind of memories that you can not block out or wash away. These stick with you for the rest of your life.
My mother attempted suicide when I was nine or ten. Thankfully the bottle of pills she took were not the kind that could kill you and after pumping her stomach she got the help that she needed. She suffers from mental illness as well. She has PTSD, bipolar, and clinical depression.
And then there is me. Years before I had my children or met my current husband I was suicidal. I thought about it constantly. I was in the planning stages of how to figure it out. How I could do it the best and easiest way. Thankfully my OCD did me a favor for which I am so very great full  It would not let me find a plan that worked. It was against anything messy or painful. It reminded me of my clumsiness and how I might not do it correctly and end up suffering even more for the rest of my life. It then showed me images of my family having to find my body and what it would do to them. That I would scar them like my great uncle scarred my great grandparents. I couldn't do it. I went and got the help I so dearly needed. I am no longer suicidal and have not been for many years.
I can't help but feel we are missing something. That we are failing these people somehow. I am not sure how to fix it. I know that people tend to roll their eyes and judge people that say they want to die or they want to kill themselves. People tend to think that these people are just saying that because they want attention. Do you really want to take that chance? Suicide is a very real thing. It is a very scary thing and unfortunately it is something that some people do. It has to stop. I know we can get better. I know that we can get help. We can. The real pain of suicide is not just the fact that you lose someone you love. It is that they chose to leave you, willingly. The pain, sorrow, and anger that follows. And there is so much anger. The devastation that is left behind and the questions. Always the questions, that sadly there is no answers to.The pain of going on without them and all the things in your life that you can no longer share with them. There is nothing romantic or amusing about suicide. There is only pain. My heart aches for the families that have gone through this. My heart aches for the people that feel suicidal. My heart aches for my family and what they have gone through.
If you know someone that is talking about suicide, please get them help. Please do not ignore their pleas. Call someone. Take them to the hospital. Call the hotlines and reach out. Be there for them and be there to get them the help that they need.
                                                         Neurotic Nelly
There are many sites that offer help. Please check out the ones in your area or country for more information.
Here is just one useful site that might offer some help:


National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
No matter what problems you are dealing with, we want to help you find a reason to keep living. By calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255) you’ll be connected to a skilled, trained counselor at a crisis center in your area, anytime 24/7.

What is Ocd?

What is life like with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder? Glad you asked. There have been several "funny" signs and  amusing memes about OCD that I have run across. Things like Obsessive Coffee Disorder or Obsessive Cat Disorder... Maybe I am overtly sensitive but these signs really irk me.

Ocd is so much more than being a clean freak or organizing the closet. It is hoarding, cleaning, being a germ-a-phobe, phobias, fears, guilt. It is crying in the corner and rocking back in forth. Convincing yourself that you have a deadly disorder then googling the symptoms. Then after googling the symptoms you convince yourself you have three other disorders as well. It is worry, desperation, and disgust. It is unwanted intrusive thoughts that are violent, sexual, or blasphemous in nature. It is washing your hands till they bleed or touching the door knob until it "feels" right. It is feeling worthless and ridiculous. It is trichotilliomania and body dysmorphic disorder. It is anxiety and panic attacks. It is being afraid of contamination. It is Tourette's syndrome. It is avoiding situations that make you feel out of control or uncomfortable. So much so that you can loose years of your life avoiding things that could make you happy or avoiding loved ones. It is being afraid to admit that you are in a constant battle with your mind. It is fear of judgment and rejection. It is bulimia and anorexia. It is your mind telling you that you like something that you don't or you did something you know you have not. It is counting steps and cracks in the pavement. It is being obsessed with a number or everything has to be even. It is Checking to see if you locked your door for the sixth time and knowing that you will have to check just one more time, even though you can clearly see that the latch is locked. It is time consuming exhaustion. It is having the need to confess. Confess everything that you have done or said because maybe,just maybe you might have done or said something wrong and you need to be absolved. It is feeling like you are a bad person. It is anger and frustration. It is being terrified to speak out because you are terrified that you are crazy and no one will understand.  It is self judgement and self rejection. It is pain and hell and everything in between. It is not a joke or about how much you like coffee or cats. It is not a term to be thrown around because you like to have your desk tidy. It is a real mental illness and it sucks.  No one wants to admit that we have these issues. No one wants to say that they have intrusive thoughts. It is scary and we try so hard to appear normal. I have them and so do many others. We don't like to talk about our OCD because unlike some other illness we are perfectly aware that what we do is abnormal. We know it looks or sounds crazy.  No one likes to feel out of control or nuts. We know that it is a problem. 

I have been told that I am brave. I don't know how true that is. Truth is, I am terrified.  I am terrified every time I write something because I am knowingly opening myself up for rejection and negative judgment. I do this because  know there are others out there like me. If just one of  my posts are able to make them feel less lost or alone then it is worth it. I can take it. It is not as if I have not heard all of the negative comments before. In fact I have said them to myself many times before I got healthier.  There are many faucets to OCD. [tweet this].
These are just some of them. Many of us have several symptoms and not just one or the other. So this is what is like to have OCD. This is what it is like to live with it. Does that seem funny or amusing to you?

                                                     Neurotic Nelly

Rant, Rant, Rant

In the last few years a couple of really good movies about mental illness have been successful  They had all the things in them that made them interesting. They were a love story of sorts. I really appreciate the awareness and those that made these movies great. A Beautiful Mind was about schizophrenia. Silver Linings Playbook is about Bi-Polar. I haven't gotten to see the Silver Linings one yet so don't tell me how it ends...
As Good As It Gets was a brilliant movie about OCD. I always liked the t.v. show Monk as well. Both of these has put OCD more in the fore front than it has been before and yet I am dissatisfied. It seems that OCD is viewed as funny and stereotyped. If you were someone that had never come across a person with OCD you might make some generalizations just from these two shows. I would like to take a minute to enlighten you If you permit me.

 Not everyone with OCD is a clean freak. Hoarders are also sufferers of OCD.
Not everyone with OCD have a fear of germs. Every fear or phobia is specific and just as people are different their fears are different. Many of us are clean freaks and germ-a-phobes but there are a lot of people with OCD that are not.
For some reason with the exception of the OCD t.v. series the mentally ill are played by male actors. Mommy Dearest was about Joan Crawford and is so far the only female role that I have found about OCD. She was quite harsh and I am fairly certain she had much more than just OCD.

So the generalizations we are left with are that only older men in their fifties have this disorder. That we are rigid and angry people. That we can not communicate efficiently with others. That we are all clean freaks and are terrified of germs. That we are hateful and resentful. That we are terrified of everything in our environment  That we are to be laughed at. That we can not have real relationships. That we are damaged and sad. That we can't be beautiful or sexy.  That we can not have beautiful romantic love stories written about us.That we are old curmudgeons shuffling around. That people with OCD are violent (American Psycho) or abusive (Mommy Dearest). That we are incapable of living full and happy lives. That we don't deserve to have more realistic movies written about us because it is not sell able or interesting.

This is not accurate at all. OCD people are most often kind and extra sensitive. We worry about not being accepted and loved. All of us have OCD traits but we have different personalities. Some are more pessimistic and some of us are optimistic. We are all different and should be represented in that fashion. Frankly, we deserve better and more accurate depictions.
I would like a movie with a beautiful actress like Jennifer Aniston playing a real depiction of OCD. Instead of being afraid of something small like outdated milk she could have real phobias. That would be nice. Yes the milk the thing is funny but not all of our phobias are. They are real and they are terrifying  We laugh at some of our issues but it is not all fun and games. OCD is a debilitating mental illness. Her love interest could be some one like Gerard Butler. They could be in a diner and she could say" I have intrusive thoughts. I am so terrified of the images and voice in my head that I have hidden all the knives in my house and I only cut things when the house is empty just to avoid the fear. I am not violent but I am afraid I will stab someone."

Gerard,"That's ok. We can just order out all the time."

Jennifer," I am afraid to take elevators. They make me feel like I am suffocating.I have anxiety attacks in them"

Gerard," No problem. We can always take the stairs."

Jennifer," I pull out my own hair until I have bald patches and I can't stop or I pick my skin till it bleeds. I have scars.'

Gerard," You are the most beautiful woman in the world."

Jennifer,"I had to give up driving. Every few blocks I have this terrifying fear that I have hit someone. I know I have not but the doubt and fear is so real I have to get out and check.'

Gerard," I would happily drive you anywhere you need to go."


Jennifer," I touch things several times until it feels right and it makes me late all of the time. My friends are embarrassed to be seen with me but I can not stop the urge."

Gerard," I don't care, I love you."

Jennifer," I know I have a lot of issues, but I promise you that no one will love you as much as I do. No one will ever be as loyal or good to you as me. Because I care on levels most aren't capable of."

Then they could pan to her room when the stress has gotten to her and they could show what it's really like for us. They could show him holding her as she rocks back and forth crying the corner. They could show how she feels like a failure and how she is devastated. How she is terrified of having children because she could pass it on to them.They could also show her being productive with her life. They could show the ups and downs of finding medications that work. They could show the terrible side affects that come with these trials. They could show how she goes to a therapist and gets help. Because that is much more accurate than being afraid of milk or stepping on a crack in the pavement. Because OCD is not a joke. Because OCD is much more than an hour long movie played by a cranky middle age man who hates dogs or likes cleanliness.

Hollywood if you are going to crack open the door of mental illness then lets be real for change. Let's break open the door frame and release the truth of mental illness.  Let's represent how it really is for people that have OCD. Don't sugar coat it. Don't make it your personal joke. Don't make us all men living alone in a dank apartment or house. Show us as beautiful men and women because that is what we are. We are not just crazy lunatics locked in the attic. We are everyone. We are many. We are  contributing to our communities and taking part in our own lives. Show our humor but also show our pain. Show our  capacity to love and learn. Show how we overcome our difficulties. Show us as real identifiable people. We are not Jack Nicholson. We are not Faye Dunaway or Christian Bale. We are strong and we are loyal and loving. We are just like you. Represent us fully and see how many of us come out of the shadows and stand up and say I have OCD. Help the world to really understand us. Help us to accept our own illness and for once not be ashamed.
                                    Neurotic Nelly

Letter to a Friend

Dear Friend,
Sometimes in life we falter. Sometimes everything seems to go awry. We are angry, confused, and  afraid. Can we live without this person? Can we function on a daily basis? Can we be anything but broken?
We fall from Grace like broken winged angels no longer able to fly.We are all the walking wounded. We have all been damaged. Damaged by our past, by others, by ourselves. Damaged by our choices, by our environments, by our refusal to accept ourselves. We bump into each other on the sidewalks never looking into each other's faces. Never bothering to see the other person stumbling along beside us. We are sometimes concentrated on our own lives so intently that we forget to see other's suffering. We limp along thinking we are the only one's hurting.
We walk along the lonely road shivering in the cold. Believing that we are not worth the time wasted on us. Believing that we deserve to suffer. Some of us have fought for our country. Some of us have fought only for our souls. Some of us have fought wars in our own minds. All of us have waged war against our beliefs. Against our personal truths. Waged wars in our own lives. Sometimes we loose loved ones. Sometimes the binds that tie us together are broken and we are left shattered on the ground. Sometimes we loose our livelihoods. We are left with nothing but the clothes on our back and no shoes upon our feet. Sometimes we loose ourselves. Leaving a stranger blinking back in the mirror.
I do not know why we suffer so, I am not a great philosopher.  I do believe we suffer to be able to accept joy when it comes. I believe that as the binds that tie us together get severed we are able to form new ones with others. I believe that this life makes us strong.
I can not be where you are. Our lives circle in different paths. That does not mean I do not see you. That does not mean I do not hear you. I have lived in the hell you are visiting for so long I chose the wallpaper. I hope you like blue butterflies and yellow stripes.
We are distrusting. We often feel invisible. We believe that nothing is given to us without expectations or strings attached. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. To be pulled into something that will hurt us.
This letter to you is my offering. My gift to you. I only have one expectation. That you take my gift of friendship without fear or distrust.  You said once that you didn't think I was put in your life to watch over you. I am sure that is true but why are any of us put in anyone's life? Maybe it is to help you. Maybe it is to help me. Maybe it is to teach us something. I have always believed that people come into your life for a reason. To help, to teach, to befriend, to learn. I can not tell you what to do. What I can do is listen. What I can do be there for you. What I can do is never judge.  What I can  do is text you your positive truths. You are worthy of happiness. You are talented. You are beautiful. What you have to say is important. You are worthy of other's people's time. You are strong. You are a caring and amazing person. You are you and there is no one in the world like you.  You are my friend. The world would be a sadder more bitter place without you.  These are your truths. We are all the walking wounded and I am thankful that I get to stumble along beside you for awhile.
                                      Sincerely, Neurotic Nelly