Hello Everyone,

I recently had a discussion on another site about suicide and the lack of help out there. Yesturday, for me, is just another example of it. I have been dealing with a bad bipolar low/depression episode. I cycle into a severe depressive low about every 6-8 months. The last week it’s been getting progressively worse.

Saturday night was another difficult night with thoughts getting closer to urges. And I hear it all the time, if your thinking of doing something, tell someone. So having a 2pm appointment that day I decided to tell my therapist what’s going on. So I shared about the bad depression. About how not having my pain meds for three days added to it how I feel. About having to leave the house the last few days to pay bills and running into ambulances all over town. Each one triggering flashbacks of being 16, having them come to the house, put me in restraints and take me to the hospital.

It was like I was 16 again with my mom using the hospital growing up to punish me all over again, when she used to lie to the hospital saying I was suicidal so they would take me for three days. I am so tired of reliving that. I am dealing with a surge of nightmares and flashbacks aside from ambulance induced so bad my stomach is sick. When I have the flashbacks my stomach physically hurts. I feel the emotions and for some reason it causes my upper stomach area to hurt so bad. I don’t know why that happens in response to flashbacks, but it does.

So then with my therapist being a medium like me I was able to share about my issue with a ghost doing increasingly more crap including being basically raped the last 3 nights in a row. And I can’t do a darn thing about it because I can’t physically touch him! Without going into huge detail, I moved into a new place in August 2010 and began being visited by a spirit. Not uncommon for me, happened all through my childhood. But a year into him being here, he began touching me sexually. He was gay in his last life and this used to be his apartment in 1947. He used to invite his gay lover here and they would make love. He stayed because some of his happiest memories are of making love here.

With me being male, he likes me and sees me as his boyfriend, despite me telling him I’m not gay and can’t have a relationship like that with a spirit. But he won’t stop. He just keeps doing stuff. When I am not so depressed I can more or less cope with the touching. But right now it’s just too much on top of what I am already dealing with. And it’s not exactly something I can share about to say my medical doctor as spirits are often not seen as “real”. So people would assume it’s a product of mental illness.

So with my therapist being a medium too, she understands the situation. But you tell most therapists about talking to spirits, or worse, being sexually attacked by a spirit and they think your seeing/hearing things and want to get you on meds. With my therapist, she is aware it’s not in my head and is a physical spirit. So that’s a good thing. My darn mom thinks I imagining the whole thing. Seriously! Gee, maybe I imagined my spinal injury I have too!

So anyway, I told my therapist that the suicidal thoughts are no longer just thoughts. The urges to act isn’t so easy to resist anymore. Having the pain meds again helps the pain back under control. But the three days without took so much energy out of me that I normally have to resist the urges. I don’t have anything left Sharing this, I didn’t get the response I had expected and prepared myself to hear. She tells me ‘Oh, well your not going to do it, your alright”.

SERIOUSLY? After seeing her for 4 years, herself being present at the overdose in 2010, you would think she would know I am fully capable of following a urge through when pushed to the wall emotionally. So the comment surprised me. We ended the session not long after with her telling me “see you Tuesday”, referring to the Buddhist chanting group her and her husband go to that they often invite me to. I go when I am feeling up to it.

So anyway, I left bothered that she didn’t really hear me or take me seriously. So when I got home, my mom asked me how it went. (I rent a bedroom from her) Feeling bothered by my therapist not hearing me, I wasn’t up to putting on the happy face as always. So I told my mom what happened and how I was feeling. My mom tells me “If you were really suicidal, you would have done it when you were a kid”. What? So let me get this straight. Because past attempts failed, it some how means I am no more serious now than I was back then?

She’s like “Well, if you wanted to do it, you would choose a method you wouldn’t walk away from like driving your car off a cliff”. Well excuse me for not wanting to die of crush injuries or dying in a fiery crash. I have been through enough painful abuse in my life to go out in extreme pain too! I favor painless methods. But painless methods often have a risk of not working every time. Hence me still being here. Though my guides take credit for intervening in many. Gee, thanks guides!

They told me that I still have too much work here to do and that if they can’t put people in my way, they will intervene directly like the time they physically took control of my arm keeping me from putting more pills in my mouth. Freaky to feel happen for people not used to activity from spirits. But for me, it just pissed me off. I didn’t want to be stopped. They said I will NOT be allowed to take my life. Not something I wanted to hear then, or now.

So anyway, I finally tell my mom of my heart problem I have been keeping to myself. She tells me “It’s nothing, your fine”. I’m sensing a pattern here. Everything I share that is wrong with me she says I am “fine” and isn’t as serious as I am making it out to be. So she tells me maybe I should invest in life insurance if I think I might die of a heart related death.

So I try to push how I am feeling again, waste of time. I tell her “Life insurance doesn’t cover suicide”. She comes back with “Well then you should start saving up for your casket because I am not paying for it!”. Gee, really feeling the love. Thanks a lot. Glad I am a walk-in and not really HER son. But since she doesn’t believe in walk-in’s, I am betting she would tell HER son if he was still here the same thing!

Just to clarify, hopefully without confusing anyone. I wasn’t born. The soul my mom gave birth to wanted out at age 7. He had tried to take his life several times including laying in the street trying to get cars to hit him I am told. I don’t know, I have VERY little memory of his life. At age 10 the walk-in took place. He left the body to return to Heaven and I took over. It’s the flip side of suicide. That way he still gets to go home, but souls wanting to come to earth can still make use of the body he didn’t want.

On November 20th 1990 at about 2:30pm I woke up sitting in a chair in the school office. The body being a month shy of being 10 years old. I had no memory what so ever at the time of life from birth to 9 9/10ths. I knew the names of my new parents and some family members, but that was it. I best describe it to being placed with foster parents. You only know the new parents names and where you will be living. But you don’t know their favorite colors, what kind of people they are and such. I had no bond with my parents what so ever. To me, it was just people I lived with. Always has been.

My new “mom” didn’t even notice the switch. Not that she’s very observant. The old soul loved shrimp by the plate load. I can’t stand shrimp. He liked the oldies music of the 50’s and 60’s. I don’t like that era. I like the 80’s, 90’s music. And my preference is rap like Eminem, Linkin Park and so on. But I do share some common things. He apparently liked green as his favorite color, I do as well. And he liked trains, as do I. So we did have some things in common.

So yea, that sort of hopefully explains the reference I made to it being sad she would be so cold to her son. I mean, who tells their kid to pay for their casket because their so called “mom” doesn’t want to be burdened with having to pay for it? Last time I was suicidal in August 2010, she told me to kill myself in my car instead of my room because she didn’t want my spirit hanging around once I was dead. As a teen when I was suicidal, she would tell me “Knives are in the kitchen, go for it!”. She’s just VERY cold.

Anyway, I am just so darn tired of reaching out for help and getting my darn head bitten off. I thought when you were feeling suicidal you were supposed to say something when you had thoughts going to urges. What’s the point if no one you share the feelings with gives a damn?

I would call a suicide hotline and talk to them, but the last time they called the police to do a “wellness check” who while wanting to take me to the hospital to be evaluated the office handcuffing me loses his balance when finished cuffing me (“Protective Custody” they call it, I don’t feel “protected” with cops like them!) and slips off the sidewalk. Thankfully his partner catches him.

So once the cop is standing back up right the cop tells me “You know, you can be charged with that”. I tell him “With what!?”. He says “You pushed me!”. Wait, let me get this straight, I’m in handcuffs with you some where behind me where I can’t see you.. Remind me again how I can push you? He never answered. I’m not responsible for him not watching where he’s standing.

Then he doesn’t put on the double lock on the handcuffs which keeps them from getting any tighter preventing loss of blood circulation and any other damage. On the way to the car the cop says “You know, we have more important things to do than coming out here for this”. Gee, thanks for making me feel even more like crap. Your good at this!!

So then in the car I request to be taken to the other ER where I am actually treated with respect, he tells me “NO, we are not a taxi!”. So he takes me to the ER in town that the cop knows has a long history of abusing me. Which is why he took me there, to punish me for him being called out for me. Then on the way to the hospital, because of his crazy driving I am trying to brace myself so I don’t slide around the back seat which causes the handcuffs to get tighter and tighter because he didn’t put on the double lock which prevents handcuffs from getting tighter.

So Saturday night turns into early Sunday morning. The urges become unbearable and I overdosed on my pain meds. I took them and went to bed. I was totally at peace. I was content looking forward to open my eyes to find me out of this life. But instead I woke up several hours later, still alive. I didn’t take enough.

So being so close to having died, Sunday afternoon I went to the ER that treats me with respect and explain what happened. Then things got worse, in addition to being told I was probably going to be hospitalized for trying to take my life, the hospital was more concerned with my heart. I had a blood pressure of 196/123. Over heart attach range. Complete with chest pain. So they ran a EKG that said normal but “tacky”.

It’s not the first time I have know my heart was damaged. In 2009 the doctor explained to me that because of the untreated PTSD from since 10 ½, the untreated panic attacks have done damage to my heart. He explained that it’s perfectly normal and even good for the heart rate to be brought up such as when working out for example. But when it’s left at such a rate for prolonged periods, it can do damage. I have a good 2-6 nightmares a night with I would guess 20 or so flashbacks a day. Each one causes a panic attack which last for a average of 30minutes to 2 hours depending on what the flashback was about.

So having this raised blood pressure for 20 years of such flashbacks has damaged my heart. Today, even at rest, my heart beats fast. It skips beats and has even stopped beating for 2-3 seconds and then will beat hard once or twice and go back to normal beating. As if there is a temporary blockage that suddenly shifts under the pressure which lets the heart start beating again. Yet they saw no blockage on the echo. But instead of being afraid, I found the news good. If I didn’t die by my own hand, my heart would give out in the near future. Maybe the next 3-5 years.

So anyway, they were keeping watch of my blood pressure. So it was a 9 hour wait for mental health to show up. Thankfully, the nice hospital works with me. Instead of stripping me leaving me in nothing but a diaper (I’m in continent) they let me keep my clothing. And they let me have access to my Kindle so I could use their wifi to have something to do to pass the time. And having access to the internet I could e-mail friends and let them know what’s going on.

The mental health worker talked to me for about a hour. I explained about the overdose and what has been going on. She started talking about a hospital. I told her straight up, I’m not doing a hospital stay. Especially because my area doesn’t have a psych ward of their own. So I am sent 150 miles south to Sacramento to their hospital in Sacramento County. Too far for friends or anyone to come visit. So while all the other patient’s get to enjoy visits from friends and family, I sit alone in my room during visiting hours. Not good for getting better.

And it’s too far for supplies to be sent cheap enough. Because most psych wards don’t have diapers, I have to make the few diapers I had last 10 days. Often having to go several hours in a wet one causing rashes. Rash cream I had plenty of, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have to sit in a wet diaper because my home county doesn’t want to spend the money for a hospital closer to my home. Or because most hospitals don’t want to shell out the money for diapers. So you either bring your own, or you wet yourself for all to see. Or patients to complain about because you have wet the sofa seat for the third time in a week. It will make anyone’s depression worse having to deal with that.

So I told her I refused to be hospitalized. She said that’s fine anyway because I looked “fine enough” to go home. I have to admit I was shocked and relieved at the same time. I had prepared myself to be hospitalized, even if I didn’t like it, when the ER doctor said because I had tried to kill myself in the last 12 hours I was going for sure. And in just about any other county, I would have been admitted. But here in Shasta County, mental health won’t admit unless your literally standing there with a razor blade to your wrist. Otherwise, they kick you loose.

So the release paperwork was signed to send me home from the ER, along with my sheet of “understanding suicidal feelings” packet as if after 22 years of this I don’t fully understand all facets of being suicidal. The nurse comes in and asks if I felt better. Still not wanting to put on a happy face I was dead honest. I told him no, I felt exactly the same. He asked if I thought I would feel safe at home. I said, I doubt it, but I guess I will take the risk, because the mental health worker didn’t blink a eye when filling out the discharge paperwork. So the nurse asks “How can she send you home still feeling suicidal?”. I told him that it happens ALL THE TIME.

One of the cops back in 2009 had told me about a guy they were called out to who had a shot gun to his mouth. He said they tazered him and brought him to the hospital to be hospitalized for attempted suicide. But were called back out to the house 9 hours later because mental health had sent him back home and he went directly home and shot himself with the shot gun.

Then around the same time Redding California was in the news again due to mental health not helping people. A man my age which is what made it hit home for me had gone to mental health for help with his out of control PTSD. Very similar to my case. They told him he wasn’t sick enough. That they don’t give therapy, only meds due to cut backs. That unless he had a razor blade to his wrist right then, they couldn’t help him and referred him to his family doctor. Since when are family doctors therapists now?

Anyway, the man’s mom went to mental health and begged them for help saying her son was losing control and was becoming severely suicidal. They said they couldn’t do anything. So a few days later the man showed up in the ER, the same one I go to, with a gun. He told the nurse, “I can’t do this anymore, help me or I start shooting people!”.

So the cops talk him down saying if he puts the gun down they will help him. Typical lies, they tell him what he wants to hear just to get him to put the gun down. So he puts his gun down expecting to finally get some help. Nope, instead they charge and arrest him. They put him in jail for 6 months. Taking him off all the meds he DOES have cold turkey unwilling to give him his meds while he’s in the jail. When he finally got out, the first night home he killed himself with the gun.

So keep that in mind, cops are not serious when they say “Just put the gun down, we will get you help”. They lie saying anything they can think of that gets you to put the gun down. They have no intention of getting you any help. That’s why I tell a cop to their face when they tell me “Just tell me the truth if your feeling suicidal, I want to get you help”. Give me a break. So anyway, suicidal people are sent home all the time here. Redding California is the worst place to live if your suicidal. And I would move if I could. I just don’t have the money. Heck, I would move if I could to get away from my ghost, but I can’t even afford to move to another place in Redding.

So yea, the nurse tells me if I am suicidal, to call the police for help. No thanks, I am not up for being told AGAIN how I am wasting the officers time and how he has better things to do. How I should just not call anyone and just kill myself and get it over with than to keep asking for help. Or in the last case, had there not been 2 other officers present, the one cop probably WOULD HAVE false charged me with pushing him. But the other two officers clearly saw him lose his footing, and that I didn’t push him. So it’s not worth the risk of being charged with something I didn’t do. And just going to the ER is a waste of time. I sit there on a uncomfortable bed for 9-16 hours in a hospital which triggers flashbacks all to be told I am “fine” and sent home.

I would rather act on a darn urge than to go through that again. Since 3pm yesterday I have had chest pain right in the center of my chest between my pecks. Feels a bit like pinching. But I am aware of what’s causing it. So time will tell what happens with that. Doesn’t matter if I go due to heart attack/failure or by suicide, I am just so darn tired. I want to go home/Heaven. I am tired of living like this.

You would think talking to the nurse at mental health helped, but nothing’s changed since I took those pills. It’s down to choosing a method and waiting for the time when I am least likely of being found/saved. I know discussing suicide is highly frowned on here, but I just don’t know who else to talk to. No one else is listening to me. Hearing me. I just want to be done. Thanks for letting me share everyone. Just wanted to share somewhere about what's going on.

-Stanley