[hamstergirl]

To the "counsellor" who said my depression wasn't real: Get bent.

I had the intention of killing myself on Sunday. You judge whether this counts as an attempt.

I had a very bad pain night the previous night, just from sitting on the toilet. The next morning, I typed up a suicide note and a will, waited for the attendant to come and go and then dropped off my note off at the church for Father Lindsay. (I don't know if he ever read it).

I then headed out to the Ottawa River with the intention of remaining there until I died of starvation and thirst. I passed the time by thinking of all the friends who would be mad at me for doing this and thinking how scared and sad I was. I actually started singing "Onward Christian soldiers" over and over again, just to bring me some comfort. (I'm a hermit and normally too shy to sing). A passing motorist actually heard me and praised my singing. I sat there for 5 hours and no one came. (I wasn't sure if I wanted someone to come or not) Sat there for 5 hours staring at the Parliament buildings and singing.

It got colder, wetter and darker. It started to pour. I was soaked to the skin. I started to shake. Both hips were set off in their agony.

I virtually burned out my battery to get to where I was going. I first sought shelter under a nearby overhang of a Museum. Then when the pain got to be too much, I went inside the museum and tried to call the church. No answer. I finally told the museum staff the situation. That my chair was low on power and I had no way of getting home. (I said nothing of the real reason I was out there). A security guard came (I locked myself in the bathroom for five minutes panicking from that alone, where they couldn't see my panic), and filled out a taxi chit and sent me home.

Only Doug and Father Lindsay know what happened out there, not even my shrink knows yet. Father Lindsay is talking to me. Doug hasn't spoken to me since I told him. He may never speak to me again

I spent today at the church, singing in the bathroom at the top of my lungs. (I'm too scared to sing in front of people). I couldn't stand the silence anymore. And when I got home, I found a card for a city Public Health Inspector on my door. My attendant thinks it would be a real swell idea if I got cathetharized once a week instead of once a month. (For me, it's like being raped and it hurts.) This same attendant is telling me that I am "letting" myself fall into depression; as if it's my fault. (Let's see how she would handle pain for 16 hours a day, in virtual social isolation.)

Maybe I shouldn't put this here, but I am deeply disturbed by what happened. The memories are fresh and graphic and I don't feel I can face anyone right now because of what I have done. I wasn't strong enough or good enough and look what happened. I feel lower than dirt and I will be living with this for a long time.

And I haven't even seen my shrink yet! He doesn't know that I tried to slash my wrist in Dec, or turned my heat off in my apartment for two days. I buried those memories. I remember only from written transcripts of e-mail correspondence with a depression support group. And that was when I only had the dislocated hip to worry about. This is the main course.

I said the shrinks didn't scare me. ANYONE with the power to lock me up scares me, especially to those with ties to social services. I fight very hard to maintain control in front of these people. I am scared to %^%& in front of these people for fear of angering them. I spent one and a half years in their care. I've blocked out that memory too, but I must be scared for a pretty good reason.

My shrink is about to find out just how serious the situation is and when he does...God help me.

[SeptemberMorn]

{{{{{{{{{{{{{Hamstergirl}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}} I'm so, so sorry for your pain; both physical and emotional. It's such a helpless feeling wanting to reach out to someone like you and not even having an inkling as to what to say. Please hang in. Talk to your priest. Maybe he can be the go-between for you and your psychiatrist.

Please keep us informed on how you're doing. And please take care of YOU.





<font color=blue>"Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt" --Shakespeare</font color=blue>

[PlanningtoLive]

Hamstergirl, I am sorry for what drove you to attempt this. I wish I could really talk to you, but here if I tried or exchanged thoughts with you, I would probably have a problem with triggering someone.

Needless to say, I understand the drive to do it, but I also know that you are a fighter, and that regardless of things you have relentless fought the urges.

I hope that your friends do their best to help you through this and also get someone's attention who may be able to give you some relief from the pain that you suffer everyday.

Even though it doesn't help your suffering, I do care what happens to you.

Mary Alice

[silver_queen]

I'm hoping that you will continue to get support from both your priest and your friend Doug. Talk to him about it, you said he wasn't speaking to you: so tell him about just how bad you're feeling, and that you love him and everything, but you're in pain he can't understand, and it wasn't directed at him personally, but you need his support in getting through this, and you can't do it without him. Hopefully he'll get the idea.

In another post, bptoo(I think) was saying about how one of his online friends and died awhile ago, and because of the anonimity of the internet, his doesn't know who it was. Remember that we don't know who [i]you[/] are, Hamster Girl, so we would be worried if you suddenly stopped writing, and wonder what happened. I was wondering why you hadn't written for such a while, and I was hoping it was because your friends were helping you, and that you were feeling better...Keep in touch,

silver_queen

_____________________
RIP Dexter...
<font color=red>The best dog ever!!!</font color=red>

<font color=green>In the real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in the morning.</font color=green>
- F. Scott Fitzgerald

[hamstergirl]

I understand perfectly about your not wanting to trigger someone. I got the feeling from writing about the river that I would trigger some very ugly feelings in me again.

I live with a monster. It's a terrifying monster with the power to kill me. It's called "depression". And I feel I'm fighting it all alone.

So I call anything that triggers those feelings: "Waking the monster."

That song I wrote in Creative Corner is a perfect example. I was going to sing it in my shrink's office. Not now. I'm just going to write it down and slide it across his desk. I'm going to write everything down and slide it across his desk, because I feel it will help me. But even doing that wakes the monster.

You have to understand that I normally withdraw and retreat from everyone. I bury memories deep down so I forget them. (They still haunt me). Going to Father Lindsay was a radical step for me. Chronicaling everything to this degree and handing it all in to my psychiatrist is a radical step for me. Any normal social interaction for me is a radical step. I've been a hermit for years.

Withdraw, retreat, bury; those have been my normal tactics for my entire life as a matter of survival in an emotionally abusive household where I had nowhere to run. The constant agony has pushed me to a crisis point where something has to change. Physical suffering is the one thing in my life that will make me reach out and makes being alone unbearable and for me, reaching out and even getting a hug is the scariest thing in the world.

Worse than death.

Father Lindsay has spoken to my psychiatrist. I'm not sure how far the conversation went. My psychiatrist couldn't even acknowledge that I was his patient and the priest just told him to listen. He did tell him about the counsellor and from what Lindsay told me, my shrink was not happy.

[Rapunzel]

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{Hamstergirl}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
(not to scare you, but you reached out, so I hope that a cyber hug is ok)

My heart aches for you. That took a lot of courage to tell us about what happened, and I'm glad that you were able to do that, and also that there are people in 3-D who know and who care about you and are trying to help you. Well, it sounds like at least one anyway, but I think that your friend and your pdoc will come through for you too. Sometimes we seem to have to sink to the bottom to find a place where we can push off and start to heal. I have hope that you will be able to use what happened towards your recovery. It's slow, and it isn't easy, but you can do it.

<font color=orange>"If we are going to insist that people pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, we must ensure that they have boots."</font color=orange>

[dexter]

{{{{{{hamstergirl}}}}}}

it is, and has been, a very difficult road for you. i'm glad you are able to express at least some of that here. i hope it helps to get it out a little.

even in seeming desparation you are still reaching out to people and to new things. things that haven't been working out for you, instead of giving up, you are trying other solutions even though they are difficult for you. somewhere along there is the path to some better stuff for you. some relief from the depression, some relief to the pain. you are still looking for that in life and that shows you are a survivor just like you said in your first messages here.

keep on going. i know a lot of people and professionals have disappointed you but you seem to have at least a few very trustworthy people in your life right now with your priest and your friend. keep them in your heart as a source of hope and let them advocate for you, do whatever they can, or just be there for you when you need them.

good luck hamstergirl

------------------------------------
--http://www.idexter.com

[Fuzzybear]

Sending you ((((((((((((Hugs))))))))))))

[hamstergirl]

I did as you asked and wrote to Doug. I sent you both my letter and his response. Clearly, the man is willing to give me more love over this than I'm willing to give myself. You all have. That blows me away, because I've hated myself with a passion for years, for everything. Hating the doctors and my parents to a man while "knowing" that the right thing to do was hate myself.

And this I have done, by constantly attacking myself for things that happened in childhood, over and over again. Replaying everything I did wrong as a child.

I even hate myself for going into hysterics at age 8 at summer camp over someone dressed as Darth Vader!

And that pretty much applies to the rest of my life too. No wonder I'm blocking everything out. I'd probably find some creative way to attack myself with it!

Doug wants me to treat myself with reverence, respect and love, even after this. The man's a philosophy teacher and a formidable force not to be messed with. He's held off six people at once in very ugly debates (I'll tell you about it in PM if you ask.) Yet he has been very supportive, it just takes him a while to reply.

And during the delay, the questions start: "Have I offended him? Have I scared him off? What have I done now?"

Sounds like Doug works on "Doug Standard Time". It's those big brains....so many convolutions to negotiate..slows things down. Now with people like me, whose brain looks more like a beach ball....things happen more quickly.

I'm so glad you have those loving people in "real life", and here in cyber land too. You deserve all of this and more.

Hugs to you HG! Emmy

"Language is a Trojan horse by which the universe gets into the mind. ." -- Hugh Kenner