I finally got up the courage to read my best friends latest blog.
Yes - you read that right. I needed courage to read a blog. Well... if you knew me, you might understand - if you KNOW me ('cause I just realised people who know me are probably my only reader base... wow, I'm a retard sometimes) then you probably can guess what I mean.
If you've read my blogs before you'll know that I'm not the most mentally healthy person in the world. In fact - lately I've been having memory blanks and my best friends response was "Maybe you have multiple personality disorder... it'd explain a lot..." (and she's right - it would). So here I am, crazy little person in my little world of whatever... scared to read my best friends blog because of what it might say this time.
Now, this will come as no surprise to most people that I don't do well with suicide, suicidal tendencies - hell, depression in general - especially of people close to me. People who aren't close friends or family get avoided like the plague when they start displaying symptoms of the above.
I just don't deal with it.
It's bad. Really bad. Especially when it means that I'm not there for my closest friends because their feeling low makes me want to run away so badly that all I can do to show some form of 'support' is to stay put.
It gets worse when I'm low myself, or when I'm stressed out.
Lately, I've been both. Gotta love the combination! I'm so stressed because I need to stop doing everything and focus on my work for the deadlines... but I'm so stressed that I can't focus... which is making me even more depressed... which means I can't even start the work... which means I get more stressed... you get the idea. It's a fun circle of downwards-ness...
But after like... what? Eight years?... of dealing with it, you learn how to break the cycle and get going again. Because the fun part of the cycle is that it works in reverse too. If I get started, I feel less depressed (because I feel I've overcome it)... which makes me think that I'll be able to do the work... so I get less stressed... so I start being able to focus better... which makes me less depressed about being unable to work... which continues on an upward spiral till the work is actually done and I can go party.
It's why I've been working outside a lot lately. The sunshine helps (though, in retrospect, the sunstroke doesn't)
So anyway, back to the blog I was talking about.
My friend suffers from depression - same as me. She's not had it quite as long, so she hasn't got the amount of fail-safe's in place as me.
Good example - I've had it so long I never have more than one pack of ibuprofen and one pack of paracetamol in the house at any given time. Why? Because they don't affect each other, and don't aid one another in an overdose - and a single pack of one isn't enough to do more than give you belly ache. So, if I feel suicidal, I know I can't OD. Simple yeah? I also never keep sharp implements in my room. The only sharp things I own are the knives in the kitchen, and they're communal. For some reason, the idea of using something that everyone expects to be able to use to cut myself is just... plain unpleasant. I can't explain it. But that stops self harming or attempting to slit wrists.
I've been building up these little habits from the age of 15. Seven years of that kind of prep make them so part of your life that you don't think about them.
She's only had it a year or two.
Those habits weren't necessary for her survival before, so she still does the logical thing of bulk buying tablets (so you don't run out, and so that you always have some if you need them... etc) and she still shaves her legs (one reason I turned to epilation was so I never had razors around).
Like I say - they're silly little things that no one thinks about really, but it kinda removes temptation... well, for me at least.
So there have been times when I've come down to find her bleeding, or throwing up tablets (Sambuka sick!!) or needing to go to hospital...
And her blog can often reflect that. "Emo" she calls it. It's short for 'emotional' and describes a sub-genre of 'goth' (in my opinion) that is more focused on self destruction than on defiance of societies consumer-driven public through shock tactics.
You probably know all about Emo's... they're pretty standard now a-days.
So when you see a blog entitled "The thing suicidal here is the door, we had a good run, even I have to admit." you take an educated guess at what's being talked about and go...
Can I read that in my mental state?
Well - without knowing what it says, that's a difficult question to answer.
So I've been putting it off, and putting it off... getting more and more annoyed at myself for not being able to just click on that title and read her blog.
What was I scared of?
A lot really... thought maybe you'll only understand some of it.
The biggest fear (because depression gives you lovely paranoia) is always that she'll blame me for it. It's self centred to think you're that much of an influence - but, when we were having some of our bigger fights earlier this year, I got a message from her that, part way through, blamed me for her suicide attempts. Since then she's said it was just the meanest thing she could think to say... but it's always there in the back of my mind now.
Second biggest fear is that it'll say she's OD'd... but that one was alleviated when I found out our other best friend had read it and talked to her about it.
Next biggest fear? That she'll be talking about how she wants to die.
I'm not good with that - as I've said before - and I react in one of two ways:
1. get upset and have to try not to cry
2. get pissed off and not want to talk to her
Then there's silly fears like that she'll say stuff that really needs commenting on... but that I can't think what to say about. Or that I'll just not be able to broach a subject. Worse - if I can think of something that would help, but don't know how to say it (in case it comes across as judgemental or condescending).
The list goes on.
So basically, I sat down today at my laptop, and after receiving the excellent good news that I'd been granted an extension for my coursework (which was very much needed) , I thought "Oooh, wonder if Libor has posted any more of that story in his blog yet?" and logged in to Blogger...
And there it was. Still sat in my Reading List, waiting dutifully for me to open it up and read it through like a good friend.
I'll be honest - I nearly just closed the browser and got ready for the library.
But I'm feeling better today (finally), so I was good and read it.
It starts off with the normal depressed feelings, but moves on to explain that she's stronger now and wont be attempting anything silly because she's realised what suicide does to people.
I know what your thinking. "Suicide kills people Lauren - that's the intention... that's what it's supposed to do... wakey wakey..."
but I don't mean to the person committing it, I mean to everyone around them.
She'd worked this out through desperate house wives.
Part of me's sad that she never understood what it was like through me explaining my experiences with my friend Georgina, or with my Brother-In-law Veesham...
But she went on to apologise for not understanding before. There's a couple of us (her friends) that have lost people (read family) to suicide. It really is so different to death. I can't explain how... it's just... you look at your friends and you think 'if I lost you, I'd be so sad' (or words to that effect)... and if a friend or family member dies it really really hurts.
But if they purposefully take themselves away from you like that - forever... you think "What did I do wrong? What didn't I do? Why was I not enough to make them want to stay alive? Why did they want to hurt me like this? Did they just not think it would hurt me? Was I that bad at showing them how much they meant to me??" and it hurts about a million times more...
I guess that's why I use the word 'love' so much. Some people say I use it too loosely, that I apply it to things that I don't mean. I say to my friends that I love them - and some people think that means I don't know what real, deep, lasting, true love is or feels like. But it's not that.
I never again want to think that I didn't tell someone that I care for so much how much them mean to me. I never want to think "If I'd just made that little bit more effort, would they have known I loved them? Would it have made a difference?"
So maybe I do use it too often for some peoples liking - but they can go chew cud.
Love isn't just being in-love with someone. It's having a place in your heart for someone.
I love my friends so much... it hurts when they're hurting... and I'd never stop missing them if I lost them...
That's probably why it hurts so much to read her blogs sometimes.
My Kaydie-kins is always hurting... and, no matter what I do, I can't take that pain away...
It's a hard fact of life to deal with - that you can't save everyone - but we all learn it eventually.
I guess I mother her sometimes. She's a year younger than me, half a foot taller than me (at least), and works harder than me... but I still mother her. I'd say it's my nature - but sometimes I think it's because she doesn't seem to have a proper 'mother' figure... well, not one like mine. Not one that's always there, and always supportive, and always ready to drop everything to help one of her babies.
Not judging here btw. Everyone's family is different.
I'm so lucky in that both my parents are so supportive it gets annoying. I love that the reason my parents annoy me is that I always have their support. I could never really shock them. They've always known I'm bi - without me having to say it; if I got a tattoo without telling them, they'd be excited to see what it was; if I fell pregnant and decided to move to Australia, they'd be sad that I didn't want to be near them, but would probably try and find a way to help me pay for the flights. They're just... so damn supportive... it's hard to understand what it's like for my friends whose parents don't support them through everything.
Some of my friends say "My dad'd kill me if I did that..." and some of those friends I actually believe.
Reading Kaydie's blog, it turned into a rant about her family.
They're so un-supportive... I just want to shout at them!
I mean... her Grandma being a bit scatty and telling her stuff she knows... that I can understand and forgive - as well as the 'Loose weight... eat cake!" attitude. Old people are a bit like that at times... and her Gran's a bit nutty anyway (in a good way... I think).
But when I hear about her mum and dad chastising her for her depression!
I just want to find them and hurt them... which isn't good. You should never want to hurt people - let alone people that your friends love - let alone their family - let alone their parents.
It's just this ... RAWR.... of frustration.
Part of me thinks it's because I put myself in her position and can feel how much harder that makes the whole process of living - I mean, being depressed is about thinking you're not good enough, or that people don't understand you... for those people to turn around and put you down because that's how you feel... it's like proving your point! It makes it so much worse, and so much harder.
At the same time, another part of me is so mad at them for Me and Libor. I mean, we basically step into their role of being the supportive ones, of being there for her, of loving her... which is what her mum and dad are supposed to do. And ever positive step we make with her is totally undermined by them!
It's like we take a baby step forwards, and they don't just make her take a step back, they push her over!
Every time we get her to feel a bit better about herself, they manage to say something that shows they have no confidence in her, or criticise how she looks, and it knocks her legs from under her. All her confidence disappears in a burst of tears.
It's like watching a kid make a really pretty picture for their parents, and their mum or dad just laugh and screw it up, then throw it away.
The heart break on her face when she talks about it. That pain that she pushes behind a mask of jokes and bubbling anger... it's too much sometimes.
So I finish her blog, and just want to go grab her, say "You're mum's a bitch - fuck her, fuck everything she says, she's a bully and you deserve so much more than that!" and run away with her (and Libor) to a place where they can never hurt her again.
But the fact is, she's still her mum. And her dad is still her dad. She loves them.
It's really that simple. You love your parents - no matter what really. You can hate them sometimes - but under that is still a love for the people who made you (both physically and emotionally/mentally)...
You can't just call someone's mum a bitch - even if they themselves have been saying it. It's just not done.
Besides, I haven't yet admitted to her that I'd not read her blog. So... that plan is so out of the window that the broken glass is still saying "why didn't you open the window first - you pritt-stick?"
So here I am, blogging away while I try and work out what to do.
My options seem to be:
Yes - you read that right. I needed courage to read a blog. Well... if you knew me, you might understand - if you KNOW me ('cause I just realised people who know me are probably my only reader base... wow, I'm a retard sometimes) then you probably can guess what I mean.
If you've read my blogs before you'll know that I'm not the most mentally healthy person in the world. In fact - lately I've been having memory blanks and my best friends response was "Maybe you have multiple personality disorder... it'd explain a lot..." (and she's right - it would). So here I am, crazy little person in my little world of whatever... scared to read my best friends blog because of what it might say this time.
Now, this will come as no surprise to most people that I don't do well with suicide, suicidal tendencies - hell, depression in general - especially of people close to me. People who aren't close friends or family get avoided like the plague when they start displaying symptoms of the above.
I just don't deal with it.
It's bad. Really bad. Especially when it means that I'm not there for my closest friends because their feeling low makes me want to run away so badly that all I can do to show some form of 'support' is to stay put.
It gets worse when I'm low myself, or when I'm stressed out.
Lately, I've been both. Gotta love the combination! I'm so stressed because I need to stop doing everything and focus on my work for the deadlines... but I'm so stressed that I can't focus... which is making me even more depressed... which means I can't even start the work... which means I get more stressed... you get the idea. It's a fun circle of downwards-ness...
But after like... what? Eight years?... of dealing with it, you learn how to break the cycle and get going again. Because the fun part of the cycle is that it works in reverse too. If I get started, I feel less depressed (because I feel I've overcome it)... which makes me think that I'll be able to do the work... so I get less stressed... so I start being able to focus better... which makes me less depressed about being unable to work... which continues on an upward spiral till the work is actually done and I can go party.
It's why I've been working outside a lot lately. The sunshine helps (though, in retrospect, the sunstroke doesn't)
So anyway, back to the blog I was talking about.
My friend suffers from depression - same as me. She's not had it quite as long, so she hasn't got the amount of fail-safe's in place as me.
Good example - I've had it so long I never have more than one pack of ibuprofen and one pack of paracetamol in the house at any given time. Why? Because they don't affect each other, and don't aid one another in an overdose - and a single pack of one isn't enough to do more than give you belly ache. So, if I feel suicidal, I know I can't OD. Simple yeah? I also never keep sharp implements in my room. The only sharp things I own are the knives in the kitchen, and they're communal. For some reason, the idea of using something that everyone expects to be able to use to cut myself is just... plain unpleasant. I can't explain it. But that stops self harming or attempting to slit wrists.
I've been building up these little habits from the age of 15. Seven years of that kind of prep make them so part of your life that you don't think about them.
She's only had it a year or two.
Those habits weren't necessary for her survival before, so she still does the logical thing of bulk buying tablets (so you don't run out, and so that you always have some if you need them... etc) and she still shaves her legs (one reason I turned to epilation was so I never had razors around).
Like I say - they're silly little things that no one thinks about really, but it kinda removes temptation... well, for me at least.
So there have been times when I've come down to find her bleeding, or throwing up tablets (Sambuka sick!!) or needing to go to hospital...
And her blog can often reflect that. "Emo" she calls it. It's short for 'emotional' and describes a sub-genre of 'goth' (in my opinion) that is more focused on self destruction than on defiance of societies consumer-driven public through shock tactics.
You probably know all about Emo's... they're pretty standard now a-days.
So when you see a blog entitled "The thing suicidal here is the door, we had a good run, even I have to admit." you take an educated guess at what's being talked about and go...
Can I read that in my mental state?
Well - without knowing what it says, that's a difficult question to answer.
So I've been putting it off, and putting it off... getting more and more annoyed at myself for not being able to just click on that title and read her blog.
What was I scared of?
A lot really... thought maybe you'll only understand some of it.
The biggest fear (because depression gives you lovely paranoia) is always that she'll blame me for it. It's self centred to think you're that much of an influence - but, when we were having some of our bigger fights earlier this year, I got a message from her that, part way through, blamed me for her suicide attempts. Since then she's said it was just the meanest thing she could think to say... but it's always there in the back of my mind now.
Second biggest fear is that it'll say she's OD'd... but that one was alleviated when I found out our other best friend had read it and talked to her about it.
Next biggest fear? That she'll be talking about how she wants to die.
I'm not good with that - as I've said before - and I react in one of two ways:
1. get upset and have to try not to cry
2. get pissed off and not want to talk to her
Then there's silly fears like that she'll say stuff that really needs commenting on... but that I can't think what to say about. Or that I'll just not be able to broach a subject. Worse - if I can think of something that would help, but don't know how to say it (in case it comes across as judgemental or condescending).
The list goes on.
So basically, I sat down today at my laptop, and after receiving the excellent good news that I'd been granted an extension for my coursework (which was very much needed) , I thought "Oooh, wonder if Libor has posted any more of that story in his blog yet?" and logged in to Blogger...
And there it was. Still sat in my Reading List, waiting dutifully for me to open it up and read it through like a good friend.
I'll be honest - I nearly just closed the browser and got ready for the library.
But I'm feeling better today (finally), so I was good and read it.
It starts off with the normal depressed feelings, but moves on to explain that she's stronger now and wont be attempting anything silly because she's realised what suicide does to people.
I know what your thinking. "Suicide kills people Lauren - that's the intention... that's what it's supposed to do... wakey wakey..."
but I don't mean to the person committing it, I mean to everyone around them.
She'd worked this out through desperate house wives.
Part of me's sad that she never understood what it was like through me explaining my experiences with my friend Georgina, or with my Brother-In-law Veesham...
But she went on to apologise for not understanding before. There's a couple of us (her friends) that have lost people (read family) to suicide. It really is so different to death. I can't explain how... it's just... you look at your friends and you think 'if I lost you, I'd be so sad' (or words to that effect)... and if a friend or family member dies it really really hurts.
But if they purposefully take themselves away from you like that - forever... you think "What did I do wrong? What didn't I do? Why was I not enough to make them want to stay alive? Why did they want to hurt me like this? Did they just not think it would hurt me? Was I that bad at showing them how much they meant to me??" and it hurts about a million times more...
I guess that's why I use the word 'love' so much. Some people say I use it too loosely, that I apply it to things that I don't mean. I say to my friends that I love them - and some people think that means I don't know what real, deep, lasting, true love is or feels like. But it's not that.
I never again want to think that I didn't tell someone that I care for so much how much them mean to me. I never want to think "If I'd just made that little bit more effort, would they have known I loved them? Would it have made a difference?"
So maybe I do use it too often for some peoples liking - but they can go chew cud.
Love isn't just being in-love with someone. It's having a place in your heart for someone.
I love my friends so much... it hurts when they're hurting... and I'd never stop missing them if I lost them...
That's probably why it hurts so much to read her blogs sometimes.
My Kaydie-kins is always hurting... and, no matter what I do, I can't take that pain away...
It's a hard fact of life to deal with - that you can't save everyone - but we all learn it eventually.
I guess I mother her sometimes. She's a year younger than me, half a foot taller than me (at least), and works harder than me... but I still mother her. I'd say it's my nature - but sometimes I think it's because she doesn't seem to have a proper 'mother' figure... well, not one like mine. Not one that's always there, and always supportive, and always ready to drop everything to help one of her babies.
Not judging here btw. Everyone's family is different.
I'm so lucky in that both my parents are so supportive it gets annoying. I love that the reason my parents annoy me is that I always have their support. I could never really shock them. They've always known I'm bi - without me having to say it; if I got a tattoo without telling them, they'd be excited to see what it was; if I fell pregnant and decided to move to Australia, they'd be sad that I didn't want to be near them, but would probably try and find a way to help me pay for the flights. They're just... so damn supportive... it's hard to understand what it's like for my friends whose parents don't support them through everything.
Some of my friends say "My dad'd kill me if I did that..." and some of those friends I actually believe.
Reading Kaydie's blog, it turned into a rant about her family.
They're so un-supportive... I just want to shout at them!
I mean... her Grandma being a bit scatty and telling her stuff she knows... that I can understand and forgive - as well as the 'Loose weight... eat cake!" attitude. Old people are a bit like that at times... and her Gran's a bit nutty anyway (in a good way... I think).
But when I hear about her mum and dad chastising her for her depression!
I just want to find them and hurt them... which isn't good. You should never want to hurt people - let alone people that your friends love - let alone their family - let alone their parents.
It's just this ... RAWR.... of frustration.
Part of me thinks it's because I put myself in her position and can feel how much harder that makes the whole process of living - I mean, being depressed is about thinking you're not good enough, or that people don't understand you... for those people to turn around and put you down because that's how you feel... it's like proving your point! It makes it so much worse, and so much harder.
At the same time, another part of me is so mad at them for Me and Libor. I mean, we basically step into their role of being the supportive ones, of being there for her, of loving her... which is what her mum and dad are supposed to do. And ever positive step we make with her is totally undermined by them!
It's like we take a baby step forwards, and they don't just make her take a step back, they push her over!
Every time we get her to feel a bit better about herself, they manage to say something that shows they have no confidence in her, or criticise how she looks, and it knocks her legs from under her. All her confidence disappears in a burst of tears.
It's like watching a kid make a really pretty picture for their parents, and their mum or dad just laugh and screw it up, then throw it away.
The heart break on her face when she talks about it. That pain that she pushes behind a mask of jokes and bubbling anger... it's too much sometimes.
So I finish her blog, and just want to go grab her, say "You're mum's a bitch - fuck her, fuck everything she says, she's a bully and you deserve so much more than that!" and run away with her (and Libor) to a place where they can never hurt her again.
But the fact is, she's still her mum. And her dad is still her dad. She loves them.
It's really that simple. You love your parents - no matter what really. You can hate them sometimes - but under that is still a love for the people who made you (both physically and emotionally/mentally)...
You can't just call someone's mum a bitch - even if they themselves have been saying it. It's just not done.
Besides, I haven't yet admitted to her that I'd not read her blog. So... that plan is so out of the window that the broken glass is still saying "why didn't you open the window first - you pritt-stick?"
So here I am, blogging away while I try and work out what to do.
My options seem to be:
- Talk to her mum, and ask her to show a little more support of her daughter. Try and get her to understand what depression is, and why self harming is the way it is. [likelihood of success: 15%]
- Yell at her mum, tell her she's a bad person, that I'm more of a mother to Kaydie than she is. [likelihood of success: 0%... though it'd make me feel better]
- Talk to Kaydie and try to convince her that her Mum's opinion isn't worth listening to. Get Libor to help by bribing him with chocolate cake and roast dinner [likelihood of success: 15%]
- Surprise Kaydie with ... something... and make her realise that her friends love her a lot and are there for her, so the family thing doesn't matter [likelihood of success: 50% - temporary effect]
- Think of something better... [likelihood of success: ??%]
Nothing I can think of will have either a huge effect or a lasting one. It's so frustrating I actually want to scream.
Instead of screaming, however, I'm going to get changed, pack my things, and go to the library to do my essay like a good girl.
Sorry for the ramble...
Remember - I love you!!!
Blessed Be xx
