Dealing with PTSD in the wake of Robin Williams' Death
September 21, 2014 4:54 PM Subscribe
There is a fear which is so awful I call it The Fear, and it is The Fear that someday, I will take my own life. Old suicidal ideations are resurfacing in the wake of Robin Williams' death in a pattern all-too-consistent with PTSD. Help me weather the pain of having been suicidal, and direct it somewhere better.
I can barely dream of being free of suicidal thoughts. They started ten years ago, and never really left.
But despite that, not too long ago I had my suicidal ideations firmly under control. It would happen about once a month, as part of my menstrual cycle, usually limited to one, black day filled with feelings of isolation, distrust, and death staring me in the face. Inviting me. Enticing me. Taunting me. I'd fight it back within the day, my anger my best ally against this sickness. I was winning, and overall my zest for life was growing, growing, growing. My suicidal thoughts felt like a relic of a different person, not a pressing reality, the barest niggling. I did not feel The Fear: I knew I had won.
Things have gotten harder. My victory is compromised. The Fear has come back.
This label of "The Fear" is in the wake of Robin Williams' death. I was deeply affected, and it is the catalyst for a relapse consistent with PTSD. More and more since August 11th, I feel like I am five seconds away from breaking down sobbing or flat-out panic, I feel jacked up and energetic inside, like I want to bolt, punch something, find physical pain to match internal pain, I have anxiety attacks that wrack body and mind. I am scared of forming connections with people, I fear myself, I fear the person I was when I was five years ago -- a deeply troubled person obsessed with death and far, far too knowledgeable about how to bring about one's own.
For some background: four to five years ago those thoughts came to a head. Some genuinely awful events in my life made me sink into symptoms consistent with bipolarity or PTSD. For some months I thought about suicide for hours a day every day, and during that period I brainstormed deaths, looked up suicide methods in grisly detail, looked at parasuicide, completed suicide, psychology of suicide, impact, you name it.
Things got better. I changed my life, got myself a social safety net, took proactive measures to give myself more control over my life and destiny, and found the right dose of some excellent medication. The suicidal ideations persisted but lost their urgency. For a long time, I looked at that period with shock that I survived. I came very close to a suicide attempt once -- it might have manifested as parrasuicide, but it was designed like a coin flip: I wanted the chance of death. I wanted it to be violent. My "solution" and conviction was met with an absolute euphoria. The memory of that violent self-hatred can still fill me with horror and disbelief at the person I was. It can make me feel physically sick, gnawing at my stomach to the extent that I don't know where emotional pain ends and physical pain begins. I do not like remembering that person. I find it difficult to forgive them.
Today, I do not want to die. But since Robin Williams took his life, the old feelings of wanting to be dead are resurfacing -- flashbacks to the mindset, mood, and memories of that period. I cannot see how I can unlearn what I learned about the methods of dying, and it's all flooding back. That person wanted present-me dead. I thought I was winning that fight, and for awhile, I stopped imagining that I'd ever lose even as I thought I'd never be truly free of the fight... but now I am terrified that someday, no matter how much I have going for me, or who loves me, or how many people I could reach out to, I will take my life. Maybe not in my 20s, or 30s, or 40s, or even 50s... but someday. My mental health may improve, a presently rocky period will like-as-not end with recovery, I have a tendency toward exuberance, cheer, and ambition that has great potential to take me far in life. I find great joy in many things. But this resurfacing fills me with isolation that only deepens my sinking into The Fear.
I have many questions.
Is it possible to become completely free of suicidal ideations after having lived with them for ten years, with periods within those years where it was a day-to-day obsession that nearly climaxed with an actual attempt?
Is personifying the dark, suicidal version of yourself as a total jerk deserving of your rage an effective means to combat suicidal feeling? What about something which is dumb? (It is dumb.)
How to come to terms with one's mortality in a healthy way? Is confronting death by one's own hand as something within everyone's reach a common part of development? Are there people who never have to deal with this?
What is a responsible way to handle outreach -- who to tell, who to not tell, what sort of information to share, how to avoid causing panic in friends and family family when I am not in distress, whether I should avoid causing panic in friends and family, etc.? Do I simply say "I am struggling" or do I go so far as to mention "I was suicidal once and fear I may be so again." I am afraid of saying "the suicidal ideations never left, and probably never will" with anyone except fellow sufferers, but fear I must.
What to do when suicidal ideations seem to transcend individual states of mind and mood and infringe on everyday moments and everyday activities -- good times and bad? In the throes of The Fear they do have this nasty habit of turning the sweet into something very sour, moments of great connection into feelings of extreme isolation... but in milder forms they're just kinda there. Niggling.
How can I handle the guilt from having been suicidal, the shakiness in self-trust inspired by other people's suicides?
How can I approach therapy in a way that increases resiliency and strength, gathering up details about my mental history (which is most consistent with PTSD, with a bit of ADHD and bipolarity thrown in for good measure, a history of both emotionally sound as well as emotionally fucked-up and straight-up abusive relationships romantic and otherwise, and family history of abuse, suicide, etc.), addressing the suicidal ideations in their nastiness without creating some awful loop wherein I become even more preoccupied with suicide?
When is the appropriate time to inform up-and-coming friends that I have my dark days where I struggle without alienating a potential support network? I am dealing with a mishmash of cultures -- my acquaintances are very international (primarily American and West European, but a grand mix of everything else). We are activity partners, we do fun things together, we are inventive in our past-times, they seem like good, open people... butI keep them at arm's length. I'd love to change that, but recently got burned hard when I shared details about my past mental health issues while I was rather "clean". I fell into the old feelings of isolation and loneliness, it was a terrible prelude to Robin Williams' death which like-as-not paved the way for this relapse. The thought of getting close to someone new within a group setting fills me with panic and dread, and is one more fear fueling my recent slew of anxiety attacks.
Can you withhold information about the extent of your darkness without the pain of secrecy?
How can I channel my suicidal preoccupations into something good and productive instead of something destructive? I am completely convinced that suicide is a separate entity from any given mental illness, however comorbid. I feel like this is terribly absent from the overarching discussion about suicide, especially in the wake of Robin Williams' death. I want to fix that, want to help make talking about suicide and suicidal feeling a more open, less closeted thing. I feel very strongly about activism on this front. I want to care for people who struggle, to help with suicide prevention. I have acted as a gatekeeper before. I have asked that essential question of "are you suicidal?" I have stayed up half the night talking people down from their ledges. But those were all people I was already friendly with and rather close to. I would love to become a beacon of breaking silence without it becoming all about me and my struggle. I recognize the power of sharing one's own struggles with demons, but am not sure how to balance it. I aim to delve into these things with poetry and prose and visuals and graphs as well as assembling resources (maybe I should probably start a blog). I want to do so responsibly, carefully, mindfully, without endangering my own psyche or surpassing my limits or causing others harm.
How can I become preoccupied with something else? (Say, Neil Gaiman, or the perfect taco.)
And I wonder, wonder, wonder: Can you forgive yourself for wanting to die? Can you remember that person without feeling sick?
I emphasize: I am not in immediate danger, and this is not a desperate cry for help, I have multiple resources at my disposal if I am in crisis and trust that I am not nearly so far gone that I will askew those resources. But I do need support, more support than therapy, and want help in building or finding a support network once more. I have people I can call at any time if I fear for my life -- but I have very few people in my physical circle who I feel comfortable speaking with about the pain.
Thank you, Metafilter. I've meant to write to you all month... and hope this is not all word salad.
With love,
Forensic_taco
p.s. I'd like to thank metafilter's There Is Help site, through which I found this post on PTSD resulting from being suicidal. I'd also like to mention that I was talked down from my ledge those five years ago from members of an online community. There is power here.
I can barely dream of being free of suicidal thoughts. They started ten years ago, and never really left.
But despite that, not too long ago I had my suicidal ideations firmly under control. It would happen about once a month, as part of my menstrual cycle, usually limited to one, black day filled with feelings of isolation, distrust, and death staring me in the face. Inviting me. Enticing me. Taunting me. I'd fight it back within the day, my anger my best ally against this sickness. I was winning, and overall my zest for life was growing, growing, growing. My suicidal thoughts felt like a relic of a different person, not a pressing reality, the barest niggling. I did not feel The Fear: I knew I had won.
Things have gotten harder. My victory is compromised. The Fear has come back.
This label of "The Fear" is in the wake of Robin Williams' death. I was deeply affected, and it is the catalyst for a relapse consistent with PTSD. More and more since August 11th, I feel like I am five seconds away from breaking down sobbing or flat-out panic, I feel jacked up and energetic inside, like I want to bolt, punch something, find physical pain to match internal pain, I have anxiety attacks that wrack body and mind. I am scared of forming connections with people, I fear myself, I fear the person I was when I was five years ago -- a deeply troubled person obsessed with death and far, far too knowledgeable about how to bring about one's own.
For some background: four to five years ago those thoughts came to a head. Some genuinely awful events in my life made me sink into symptoms consistent with bipolarity or PTSD. For some months I thought about suicide for hours a day every day, and during that period I brainstormed deaths, looked up suicide methods in grisly detail, looked at parasuicide, completed suicide, psychology of suicide, impact, you name it.
Things got better. I changed my life, got myself a social safety net, took proactive measures to give myself more control over my life and destiny, and found the right dose of some excellent medication. The suicidal ideations persisted but lost their urgency. For a long time, I looked at that period with shock that I survived. I came very close to a suicide attempt once -- it might have manifested as parrasuicide, but it was designed like a coin flip: I wanted the chance of death. I wanted it to be violent. My "solution" and conviction was met with an absolute euphoria. The memory of that violent self-hatred can still fill me with horror and disbelief at the person I was. It can make me feel physically sick, gnawing at my stomach to the extent that I don't know where emotional pain ends and physical pain begins. I do not like remembering that person. I find it difficult to forgive them.
Today, I do not want to die. But since Robin Williams took his life, the old feelings of wanting to be dead are resurfacing -- flashbacks to the mindset, mood, and memories of that period. I cannot see how I can unlearn what I learned about the methods of dying, and it's all flooding back. That person wanted present-me dead. I thought I was winning that fight, and for awhile, I stopped imagining that I'd ever lose even as I thought I'd never be truly free of the fight... but now I am terrified that someday, no matter how much I have going for me, or who loves me, or how many people I could reach out to, I will take my life. Maybe not in my 20s, or 30s, or 40s, or even 50s... but someday. My mental health may improve, a presently rocky period will like-as-not end with recovery, I have a tendency toward exuberance, cheer, and ambition that has great potential to take me far in life. I find great joy in many things. But this resurfacing fills me with isolation that only deepens my sinking into The Fear.
I have many questions.
Is it possible to become completely free of suicidal ideations after having lived with them for ten years, with periods within those years where it was a day-to-day obsession that nearly climaxed with an actual attempt?
Is personifying the dark, suicidal version of yourself as a total jerk deserving of your rage an effective means to combat suicidal feeling? What about something which is dumb? (It is dumb.)
How to come to terms with one's mortality in a healthy way? Is confronting death by one's own hand as something within everyone's reach a common part of development? Are there people who never have to deal with this?
What is a responsible way to handle outreach -- who to tell, who to not tell, what sort of information to share, how to avoid causing panic in friends and family family when I am not in distress, whether I should avoid causing panic in friends and family, etc.? Do I simply say "I am struggling" or do I go so far as to mention "I was suicidal once and fear I may be so again." I am afraid of saying "the suicidal ideations never left, and probably never will" with anyone except fellow sufferers, but fear I must.
What to do when suicidal ideations seem to transcend individual states of mind and mood and infringe on everyday moments and everyday activities -- good times and bad? In the throes of The Fear they do have this nasty habit of turning the sweet into something very sour, moments of great connection into feelings of extreme isolation... but in milder forms they're just kinda there. Niggling.
How can I handle the guilt from having been suicidal, the shakiness in self-trust inspired by other people's suicides?
How can I approach therapy in a way that increases resiliency and strength, gathering up details about my mental history (which is most consistent with PTSD, with a bit of ADHD and bipolarity thrown in for good measure, a history of both emotionally sound as well as emotionally fucked-up and straight-up abusive relationships romantic and otherwise, and family history of abuse, suicide, etc.), addressing the suicidal ideations in their nastiness without creating some awful loop wherein I become even more preoccupied with suicide?
When is the appropriate time to inform up-and-coming friends that I have my dark days where I struggle without alienating a potential support network? I am dealing with a mishmash of cultures -- my acquaintances are very international (primarily American and West European, but a grand mix of everything else). We are activity partners, we do fun things together, we are inventive in our past-times, they seem like good, open people... butI keep them at arm's length. I'd love to change that, but recently got burned hard when I shared details about my past mental health issues while I was rather "clean". I fell into the old feelings of isolation and loneliness, it was a terrible prelude to Robin Williams' death which like-as-not paved the way for this relapse. The thought of getting close to someone new within a group setting fills me with panic and dread, and is one more fear fueling my recent slew of anxiety attacks.
Can you withhold information about the extent of your darkness without the pain of secrecy?
How can I channel my suicidal preoccupations into something good and productive instead of something destructive? I am completely convinced that suicide is a separate entity from any given mental illness, however comorbid. I feel like this is terribly absent from the overarching discussion about suicide, especially in the wake of Robin Williams' death. I want to fix that, want to help make talking about suicide and suicidal feeling a more open, less closeted thing. I feel very strongly about activism on this front. I want to care for people who struggle, to help with suicide prevention. I have acted as a gatekeeper before. I have asked that essential question of "are you suicidal?" I have stayed up half the night talking people down from their ledges. But those were all people I was already friendly with and rather close to. I would love to become a beacon of breaking silence without it becoming all about me and my struggle. I recognize the power of sharing one's own struggles with demons, but am not sure how to balance it. I aim to delve into these things with poetry and prose and visuals and graphs as well as assembling resources (maybe I should probably start a blog). I want to do so responsibly, carefully, mindfully, without endangering my own psyche or surpassing my limits or causing others harm.
How can I become preoccupied with something else? (Say, Neil Gaiman, or the perfect taco.)
And I wonder, wonder, wonder: Can you forgive yourself for wanting to die? Can you remember that person without feeling sick?
I emphasize: I am not in immediate danger, and this is not a desperate cry for help, I have multiple resources at my disposal if I am in crisis and trust that I am not nearly so far gone that I will askew those resources. But I do need support, more support than therapy, and want help in building or finding a support network once more. I have people I can call at any time if I fear for my life -- but I have very few people in my physical circle who I feel comfortable speaking with about the pain.
Thank you, Metafilter. I've meant to write to you all month... and hope this is not all word salad.
With love,
Forensic_taco
p.s. I'd like to thank metafilter's There Is Help site, through which I found this post on PTSD resulting from being suicidal. I'd also like to mention that I was talked down from my ledge those five years ago from members of an online community. There is power here.
This post was deleted for the following reason: I'm sorry you're dealing with these suicidal thoughts, the There Is Help page should offer more resources than what we can do here. -- mathowie
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