Journey

1.    I was informed I was discharging from the Psychological Institute of Washington the day after I communicated with staff that I was planning to hurt myself. I felt fear and anxiety but lashed out in anger, turning it toward myself. I began hurting myself and trying to kick the magnetic door open. The doctor told me I could choose to stop and stay calm or continue and would be restrained and given a cocktail injection to be forced to calm down. I chose to sit with the discomfort of how I felt. This was the first time in a long time I had chosen to feel my feelings. It was extremely uncomfortable, but I realized it was possible that day. And, if it were possible that day, with no foreseeable solution, it could be possible any day. It reminds me of a quote by the Buddhist Master Shantideva, “If something can be done about the situation, what need is there for dejection? And if nothing can be done about it, what use is there for being dejected?” I could do nothing but stand...

I once wrote a suicide note. Only once. I have no idea what it said, but I know it was probably very conventional. "I love you. I'm sorry. It's not your fault." It probably had no address. I doubt I wrote, "Dear Tim and Ian." That was in the absolute most painful period of my life. There was no relief from the constant nagging of inner turmoil, grief, and hatred. I wanted out, so I wrote fast. I failed in my attempt to end my life. A friend of mine says that I am terrible at dying and should never try again. He actually told me a story of a person he knew who shot himself in the chest and missed every organ. This man had a hole in the front and a hole in the back. I told my friend that the man he spoke of was far worse than me, but I digress (and I am not sure too many people are really going to understand the humor I am using here).  I've never felt very far from where I started - holding a 9mm pistol to my head with the safety off only releasing the tr...