Aaaaand crash.

The last couple of days have been really hard. The suicidal despair is back in full force, enough that I asked Jenny “The Bloggess” Lawson over Twitter last night what she does when “you know depression lies and don’t care? When loved ones aren’t enough and meds feel like the lie?” At that moment, I couldn’t think of anyone else to ask. I couldn’t think of anyone better to ask.

Her reply, which I read in the morning: “I call the suicide hotline. I talk to my shrink. I find friends who understand. Hold on. You’re worth it.”

I began tearing up and replied, “Talking’s not working anymore. A friend gave me permission to go after my cats have, but I can feel myself slipping. I’m trying to give myself something definite to look forward to, but starting to doubt I’ll make it that far.”

For context: the “something definite” is a potential feathered companion, specifically a lineolated parakeet (aka “linnie”), one of which I had the pleasure of meeting when I ventured out to a local bird shop on Friday. The shop has boarding space and the linnie in question was one of many charming birds staying there. I’d been entertaining the idea of a blue budgie, but the linnie won me over.

Jenny answered, “[C]all the suicide hotline. Right now. Your mind is fucking with you. It’s hard, I know, but you can do this. When I get like that it’s usually time for a medication change. It’s gonna be okay. Keep fighting.” Two others following her Twitter feed took the time to reach out as well, one with a single tweet, the other with several.

I’d arranged with a friend last week for an outing today, which I managed to follow through on despite myself, and she made sure I didn’t do anything dumb by keeping me sufficiently distracted with food, drink, and shinies from a local “witchery market.” I admit to feeling guilty about how much she spent on me, for all that I can’t deny that the baubles I chose made me feel better when I donned them.

I saw the tweets after I got home, and wrote all three to thank them for their kindness and that I would make it through today at the least. I’m not sure how long this comparatively good mood will last, but I’m definitely going to let my psychiatrist know what happened and will beg her for help.

I just hope she will.


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