Tears flowed as I sat there in the quiet of the night.
It was Friday night, my third day of working in the warehouse at Amazon.
Earlier in the day, I got out early and felt good about my shift.
But at night, like many nights, I sit there in the darkness, feeling hopeless, forgotten, and left behind.
It was different this time. Usually, when it gets late, I think of suicide.
But this time I made a promise that I wouldn’t entertain those thoughts anymore.
The question: Why should I suffer from the suffering that others placed on me?
Why do others get to live when I am the one who has to die?
As a suicide survivor, I know firsthand what it's like to escape the pain. I know that, for me, as I look back, I never want to get there.
Friday night, I felt like a burden for giving up. I almost wanted to discontinue my vocational coach sessions. I wanted to quit my job at Amazon.
We’re going to look at the cycle of depression and the reality that even when medicated, you still have mood swings.
The first couple of days, I felt great at Amazon. Training was going well, and I picked up stowing pretty fast.
I felt proud that I found a job and I could start supporting myself and my family.
But it didn’t erase the illness or the despair I’ve had in the past.
Before getting the job, about a month or so, I was struggling with ending my life. I wanted to end the despair and boredom of life.
I was feeling hopeless about finding a job, and I wasn’t sure how I would earn money without a car.
I cycle constantly with ideation, and I talked to my therapist about it. Though he wasn’t meeting my needs.
He’s a supportive therapist, and there are limits to his role.
I’ve been working with him for a few years and at times have been frustrated with him. We worked it out, and that’s what led me to my new therapist with the Rowan Center.
I’m going to work with my current therapist, as I have to because it’s how I maintain my medications.
It’s part of the provider I see that I have both therapy and medication management together.
My initial intake with the Rowan Center I was blown away my the level of details that they did by answering questions.
I found that, one, I was at high risk of suicide, and two, I have moderate to severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
It was a huge weight off my shoulders because for years I knew I struggled with PTSD.
After one trauma after another in my life, there would be no way I wouldn’t have PTSD.
I ruminate on my traumas all the time, and I feel like I can’t stop thinking about them.
Now that it’s being addressed, I have my appointment this Tuesday.
I’m valuable when I have a job. I am valuable when I can pay my bills. I am valuable when I don’t have an episode. If I fail, I’m a failure.
These are the statements that I have about myself.
It’s called conditional self-worth.
It becomes evidence that I need respect, belonging, and my own compassion.
My identity is correlated with jobs and careers. Without them, I’m nothing. Or I’m not accepted because I am overweight.
Both are not true, but that’s I process myself and I don’t give any compassion to myself.
Now the question is: When did I first learn that being useful, successful, or emotionally stable determined whether I deserved acceptance?
When I had first manic episode in 2008, I thought I need to prove I was well by making sure I graduated on time and I went to college.
I wanted to make Alfred Watts proud because he’s the one who believed in my in high school through his POSSE program.
He never said he was proud, but I wanted to be accepted and that I could be healthy and become a nurse.
I felt like if I became a nurse then I’d be taken seriously and that I would earn the respect of my family and peers.
When I was kicked out of school in 2011, I felt like I let everyone down including Alfred, my parents and especially my Dad.
I worked so hard to impress everyone around me.
Then the illness took over. I was unable to be coherent or even competent.
I wonder the person I would of became if it wasn’t for illness.
Whether I’d be nurse or continue in my sales career.
The illness has reduced me a lot and my world has become smaller.
I know in my mind I have value for being alive. But so much attachment to acheivements and status has defined my worth.
As of right now, I have nothing to show for my life.
I had a career in sales and it was going well. But, I wasn’t satisfied, I was hoping there would be something better.
That something led me here today writing. Is it better? I don’t have the pressure like I used to, but life is much more quieter these days.
Not having a vehicle and money makes my life limited.
I guess I have everything I ever wanted. I have the solace of being alone. A quiet world. No expectations to be something.