I have been off of my psych meds completely for over 2 weeks. My doctor weaned me off of them in order to start a new regimen. But, in order to begin this regimen the other meds had to be out of my system for 14 days to prevent blood pressure and heart issues. This has been a rocky time for sure as unmedicated bi-polar is not an easy thing to deal with. I’ve had manic days, but mostly depressed days that have led me to therapy 2x a week and multiple weekly conversations with my doctor just to check in and make sure I’m safe.
I had a rough few days in a row where I was actively suicidal and my safety was in question. I found myself dissociating from my surroundings and doing things that were putting me in harms way such as self mutilation and self over-medicating.
But what was even more scary was that one day I found myself at the table with pen in hand writing good-bye letters to my family and friends. I also had planned out my funeral down to the music and who would be speaking. But, when it came to the letters, the one that struck me the most was my letter to my son, Mason.
Mason has been through a lot in his short life. He’s had many hospital stays, surgeries, a laundry list of medications that he takes daily and he’s fought harder than most kids ever will in a lifetime just to make it to age 13. And here I was writing him a letter telling him to keep on fighting all the while I was giving up. Now, realize that I am a strong believer that suicide is NOT the easy way out or that people WANT to commit suicide and end their lives. I believe people lose all hope and in a moment when thinking is unclear make an ultimate decision that leaves them with regret. I believe that suicide is something that happens when there feels like no cure for their pain and that people believe they are relieving those around them from the burdensome pain that they falsely believe they have become.
But still, I was encouraging Mason to keep fighting just as he always had. I was ultimately telling him that my disease was worse than his and that while I was letting go of life, he needed to continue and press on. The hypocrisy that I was writing down on paper caught my attention and through tear-filled eyes I snapped out of my suicidal moment and realized I could not leave my child behind. I could not let him continue to fight life’s journey alone. I could not show him that exiting life when it gets too overwhelming was an answer.
This doesn’t mean it cured my suicidal thoughts or that I was suddenly well. It just means that in that particular moment I realized that I couldn’t tell Mason to keep fighting while I was giving up. So, I contacted my therapist and explained where I was mentally and how I was struggling and I came up with a plan to continue pressing onward in this fight.
Sometimes it is in life’s worst and most painful moments that we learn the biggest lessons that life has to offer. Sometimes all it takes is a few words on a piece of paper to remind us to continue to press on and fight the good fight.~Lindsay