More Positive Than Not

I want to take an overdose; I don’t want to take an overdose. I have a 60-day supply of pills on hand when I am only supposed to have a 30-day supply in my possession. Over the last six months there have been days on which I have forgotten to take my medications. The pharmacy keeps notifying me that my monthly prescription is ready even though I haven’t finished my current supply. I keep picking them up. Now I have six bottles of pills when I am only supposed to have three. It is a temptation.

It was just three weeks ago that I became intensely suicidal for less than 48 hours and had planned on taking an overdose of pills. My therapist scheduled an emergency therapy session and helped me to realize that killing myself was not the answer to the traumatic and painful memories which had been triggered. They are memories. Nothing bad is happening to me right now.

It would be a good idea to get rid of the extra pill bottles, that way the thought of taking them all at once won’t cross my mind. I am not currently suicidal, but I never know when it will happen again, and when it does, the feelings come unexpectedly, suddenly, and without mercy. My whole mind seems to give in to the idea of suicide and it takes a concerted effort to not carry out my plans. I always need outside help. Last time this happened I contacted several friends, called the suicide hotline for support, and then saw my therapist within an hour of having called the hotline. I took the rest of the day off of work. No one at the office had any idea of my crisis. It is better that way.

This week I have done therapy for four of seven days. I have not studied for my classes. Instead I have been going to bed early, sleeping and resting, feeding myself, and processing my thoughts in writing by sending emails to my therapist and posting blog entries. My need to write comes and goes in waves and it is self-therapy. Writing helps me to process my feelings and thoughts. Reading my written thoughts helps me to gain perspective. Posting them online or sending them via e-mail gives me a way of connecting with others. If my stories resonate with another person, if someone can relate to me, if others feel empathy, then sharing my thoughts through written word is worthwhile.

I did an infant observation for my child development class this morning with the help of a coworker and his children. The infant must be between three and twelve months old, so I am going to have to fudge the birth date since the infant is actually fifteen months old. Developmentally, she is more advanced than a twelve-month-old, although my therapist told me that some infants start walking at the age of nine months. This infant started walking at the age of twelve months. We went to a lake which I have never been to before and I observed the infant and her four-year-old sister throwing bread and crackers into the water for ducks to eat. The ground was wet and muddy because it had rained earlier and there were puddles waiting to be jumped in by the older sister. The observations had to be for a period of five minutes each, ten minutes apart. Both observations have to include concepts and theories from the textbook and because I am behind in my reading, as I have been focusing on my mental health this week and not on school, so I will have to wait to type up the theoretical portion of the infant observation. We have to also describe communication, emotional expressions, motor development and interactions between the parent and the infant. I am no expert in doing any of these observations but my coworker said that by the end of my classes I will be a pro.

“How am I going to manage without you for the next five days?” I asked my therapist toward the end of our session earlier this afternoon. “You’ll find a way,” he replied calmly, evenly. “You always do.” That answer instilled in me the confidence I needed to have the courage to walk away from his office, a part of the routine of therapy which I never like. I love sitting with him during our therapy sessions and I do not like leaving his office. Sometimes I try to prolong our sessions to no avail, because I know that our time is usually limited to only 50 minutes, and that all of our therapy must take place between the beginning and the end of any given 50-minute session. However, therapy continues without him, because I take what he says, his insights, his comments, his encouragement, his motivating statements, and bring them with me wherever I go. He never really leaves me, because he will always be a part of me. And it is I, who walk away from him and leave him at the end of each session. I always return. Every single thing he has taught me has become an integrated part of my life and a part of my personal philosophy and esteem which I live and breathe every single day. There are times in which I forget his teachings, and my negative thoughts take over, but that never lasts too long these days. My life is more positive than not.

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