I, Ken Morgan, fight suicidal thoughts all the time! Wait for it ... and I just made a lot of folks very uncomfortable. Before you go, thanks for stopping by ... and they are gone. I don't blame them, it can make many so uncomfortable. Why? I think a lot of it is not really understanding it. I know, what is there to understand, right? The thought comes to kill yourself. How hard can that be to understand?
I read a quote the other day that may shed some light on it. Forgive me for the terrible paraphrase, but it goes something like this, "Depression is when your body is fighting to live and your mind is trying to kill you." You see, the bottom line for me, is that I really don't want to die. I want to live! I want to live fighting to feel hope and joy. I have felt them before, so I know that I can feel them again. Not sure how long it will be, but it's worth the fight!
I can't tell you why my brain strives to convince me to just end it all. I can tell you that for me it is the farthest thing from being a selfish act. It's not when life is just too hard that I just want to give up. It's really not that at all. For me, the thoughts come that all would be better off without me. Let me open the doors wide open to my soul and share a thought. Before I do, I want to state just how difficult this will be because being open and vulnerable is like me bending over yelling, "Thank you sir! May I have another!" Waiting for the hard swat of a wooden paddle. If it helps someone suffering, it will be worth it.
Life for me is a struggling roller coaster. I've learned what triggers cause the spiral effect of depression, anxiety and even ocd. Seems like there are always new triggers I'm learning though. When a bad moment or day hits, I'm quiet. I'm not mad at anyone or anything, I'm literally fighting for my life at times using coping techniques I've learned from my psychologist. Or just fighting to find a place I can hold on to waiting for the dark storm to pass. How long do these dark storms last? Some an hour or two, some a day and some several days.
When I'm quiet "working through things" as I call it at times, which really means I'm not doing so hot, I tend to not handle "life" situations well. I tend to get upset or not deal with the situation at all. When I get upset, things aren't the best in the household. Dad, husband, family member ... you name the title, is getting mad again. When I get mad or don't handle things well I see how it effects others. How it effects family. How it effects relationships. How it effects folks I deal with just in passing. Needless to say, it's not the most happy times in my eyes. How I'm not measuring up to who I want and need to be to others and really causing them more pain than anything. See how the brain can kick my tail. These are the times that the suicidal thoughts are constant body blows, beating the life out of me. These are the darkest of times.
So, why don't I just reach out for help or tell people how I'm really doing? I feel like painting a scenario here. I see a "friend" and they say, "hey you good looking dude, how ya been?" I have a choice here to either say, "Pretty horrible! The thoughts of suicide are consuming me and I'm not sure how much more of a beating I can take. I can't feel hope or any sense of purpose. I'm trying, but I just can't." Or I can say, "Great man! Thanks for asking!" Any guesses which one I pick. Confession time. I'm the biggest liar of all! I have actually answered honestly a couple of times though and it freaked them out. They didn't know what to say and were scared that if they said something wrong it would be the thing that would put me "over the edge" and I would take my life. First of all, if I'm still trying to figure this out I don't expect someone to know what to say. A bit of advice though. Don't try to give advice, just put your arms around them and tell you that you love them. Second of all, and this sounds bad, but if anything is going to put me over the edge it's my dark mind not something said wrong by someone. There are only two folks that I talk wide open and honestly and that's my psychologist and psychiatrist. And really there are times that I just don't want to be open with them. It's dark and painful.
Will the suicidal thoughts ever end? I sure hope so, but who really knows. I'm trying to use anything that I can to quiet them at least. Like I mentioned, I meet with a psychologist and talk about how things are going and how to strive to handle things. I meet with a psychiatrist who has me on meds. In fact, we are changing up the med concoction, which is always a treat. My favorite line by him is "let me know if any interesting side effects kick in." I do all I can to lean on divinity. That my be another post some time. I'm trying though.
I'm sad when I hear of those that came to the point that they felt life would be better off with out them. That they lost feeling any sense of value, of being important to someone, of having purpose. They felt they brought more pain than good. I completely understand those feelings though.
The point is I have to tell myself that I'm important even if I don't believe it. I have to tell my self over and over even though I'm not sure how, but I am, even though I feel like I'm my only friend most of the time. I'm important. I'm important.
Understanding brings clarity of how to help. So if mental illness is so misunderstood that speaks volumes.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
Friday, April 14, 2017
When The Bombs Fall
When I was a lad I really looked up to those in my family ... my awesome siblings and my incredible mom. My dad died when I was quite young, but I will call him incredible as well! Being the youngest, I had all sorts of examples to follow ... mostly good of course! Now, this doesn't mean that we didn't fight or have times when we didn't see eye to eye. I sure didn't see eye to eye with my older siblings as they tried to see if I would fit down the laundry chute. I definitely know my sister didn't see eye to eye with me when she came to know how I found out some of her nail polish was flammable! It was awesome! The bottom line though is that my family was my world. That's all I knew when I was young. When times were rough, I still had my family to hang on to .. to be my strength.
As the teenager years came, I began to surround myself with those that I felt comfortable with. That were friends and would be there for me when times were rough. My family was still there, but with my finite teenage understanding that looked through know it all glasses, my clarity of who really had my best interest in me at times was clear as mud. Thankfully I made it through the young teenage years.
With years passing getting me closer to adulthood, I had friends that were good solid people. I had my family to give me strength, but there came times that my friends gave me strength as well. Strength and support that I will never forget about. I throw credit their way for partially being who I am today. You can thank them or curse them.
As I began to embrace that mental illness was something I was going to deal with and fight with, I leaned so much on my wife ... my rock. I know how badly she wanted to help me, yet I knew if I was trying to figure out this whole mental illness thing, she was struggling just as much. That and is a struggle for me because I want to lean on her so much, which I can, but there are some things she just can't help me with and that's okay.
While fighting the feelings of not being good enough, not having any value, not being important enough, will never amount to anything and so much more, I tend to reach out to those that fight the same horror and lock arms with them. I lock arms with them to have more strength to fight the daily battles. Some of these friends are close and that I know and others are miles away and don't even know me, yet I gain strength from them seeing them fight the fight! Some days the fight goes well while other days I wonder if there is enough strength left. And then there are those days when the bombs fall. When I find myself on my hands and knees looking around dazed to see what the hell happened. I shake my head hoping I can figure things out while I look around in the fog around me looking for those that I had locked arms with. Like a surprise punch to the face I find that some of those that gave me strength are gone. They lost the fight. Too many bombs have been falling and too many people have been losing the fight. My heart bleeds for their close ones and their family. I feel selfish for focusing more of how it has impacted me. How I crawl around looking for someone to lock up arms with again and hope that the bombs will stop long enough for me to find the strength. Too many are losing the fight.
As the teenager years came, I began to surround myself with those that I felt comfortable with. That were friends and would be there for me when times were rough. My family was still there, but with my finite teenage understanding that looked through know it all glasses, my clarity of who really had my best interest in me at times was clear as mud. Thankfully I made it through the young teenage years.
With years passing getting me closer to adulthood, I had friends that were good solid people. I had my family to give me strength, but there came times that my friends gave me strength as well. Strength and support that I will never forget about. I throw credit their way for partially being who I am today. You can thank them or curse them.
As I began to embrace that mental illness was something I was going to deal with and fight with, I leaned so much on my wife ... my rock. I know how badly she wanted to help me, yet I knew if I was trying to figure out this whole mental illness thing, she was struggling just as much. That and is a struggle for me because I want to lean on her so much, which I can, but there are some things she just can't help me with and that's okay.
While fighting the feelings of not being good enough, not having any value, not being important enough, will never amount to anything and so much more, I tend to reach out to those that fight the same horror and lock arms with them. I lock arms with them to have more strength to fight the daily battles. Some of these friends are close and that I know and others are miles away and don't even know me, yet I gain strength from them seeing them fight the fight! Some days the fight goes well while other days I wonder if there is enough strength left. And then there are those days when the bombs fall. When I find myself on my hands and knees looking around dazed to see what the hell happened. I shake my head hoping I can figure things out while I look around in the fog around me looking for those that I had locked arms with. Like a surprise punch to the face I find that some of those that gave me strength are gone. They lost the fight. Too many bombs have been falling and too many people have been losing the fight. My heart bleeds for their close ones and their family. I feel selfish for focusing more of how it has impacted me. How I crawl around looking for someone to lock up arms with again and hope that the bombs will stop long enough for me to find the strength. Too many are losing the fight.
Saturday, January 28, 2017
And the dancing elephant falls, landing on the ...
When I was a lad I had a difficult time talking to girls, especially ones that I thought were quite cute. Throw having a crush on them and the chances of me chatting with them was not too good! I may cough out a "hey" or "hi" and if they would respond "what?", I would just explain that I had coughed.
Now see, when I was around 10 years old I had a HUGE crush on a girl that lived in my neighborhood and went to the same church I did. Oh, and went to the same school too. So needless to say I would see her a lot, which was fine by me! I simply just couldn't talk to her! The crush was pretty strong, so I wasn't going to let something like not being able to talk with her get in the way. I had to be creative! My little 10 year old mind came up with an awesome plan! I had an older sister that loved to get jewelry, so I figured my crush would as well. But where would I get the money to buy jewelry? And then the epiphany hit me! My sister had tons of jewelry, so if I just took something small from her room she would never notice. Sadly, I did this several times. But how would I give it to my crush? I couldn't give it to her in person. That would mean I would have to talk with her and that wasn't going to happen. So I would take a nice decorated box with the jewelry in it and leave it on the porch and run like the wind after I rang the doorbell. This plan was going well until my sister started to notice missing jewelry. I could simply deny knowing anything, but it got very difficult when my crush began wearing the jewelry to church. Needless to say my sister wasn't too happy and all that hard work went for not with my crush.
Now that I'm "old man Morgan", which will have to be another day to explain that, I love playing "play list" with my oldest. It's quite simple, I get to play a song off of my play list and she gets a chance to name the artist and vice versa. I have to say I'm quite proud that my oldest can recognize the Who, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Journey, Styx ... I could go on. She usually ends up winning too because yep, a lot of the artists sound the same. I never thought I would say that. I will have to admit though that she has introduced some amazing artists to me.
I've been on meds for three years or so to help with my mental illness, primarily for depression and anxiety. I'm on some meds for bipolar as well even though I haven't been diagnosed of it. It's supposed to even the peaks and valleys as much as possible. I have to say though that I fought taking meds for quite a while. I was terrified of side effects and I didn't want to become numb to the world. No one pushed me one way or the other. My psychologist was supportive either way as we talked about what the outcomes may be with each decision. I got to the point though of being so frustrated for what I was dealing with. Mental illness had turned my world upside down while spinning carelessly this way and that way. I came to the point that I wanted to do anything that would help me handle it better. I remember the day of holding the meds in my hand thinking, "here goes nothing." I was waiting to wake up with six fingers on one hand or losing my appetite for my favorite food. That never happened, but I will admit that I had some side effects. One was that I would hum or sing and not know it. Not the best when you're in an environment where you're supposed to be quiet. A hoot for those around you though. The other dealt with something a bit more private. Nothing that I'm embarrassed to talk about, but for the sake of this writing venue I'll just say it simply went away after adjusting the meds. If you absolutely need to know, reach out to me and we'll chat. The interesting point is that meds taken for mental illness can actually take three to four weeks to completely take effect and may take a couple of tries of different combinations before finding the ones that work best for you. Bottom line, do I regret taking meds? Nope. It's important to understand though that taking meds isn't the end all answer. Taking them doesn't automatically make you "healed." Like I mentioned, they even the peaks and valleys that allow you to cope and handle the mental illness better.
"Great info Ken, and kind of boring, but now I have no desire to take meds," one may say that is trying to decide if it's the best thing for them. I actually came across and heard of some recently that were trying to make that choice of meds or not so much with the meds. I can simply tell my story and let them make the choice that is best for them, but to me it's important to be completely honest. I could easily say something about how awesome they are and I had no side effects. Butt that's like saying, "enjoy your ex-lax! It's great with no side effects." And yes, I did intentionally put two t's on the last but I used. Seemed appropriate!
Lately I have had a new side effect hit me. Does it make me question taking meds? Nope. It's a frustrating side effect, but I've chatted with my psychiatrist and we will be making some adjustments soon. I've learned that is just what happens. So what's the newest side effect? I struggle at times remembering the simplest words. I can be looking at an every day object and I just can't come up with the name. Or I'm in the midst of a sentence and draw a blank. It's cool when it's with my family, but a bit of a struggle when talking with other folks. I even at times draw away from folks lately because I'm nervous I'll make a fool out of myself, kind of like my fear of the ladies when I was younger. You can only imagine how the game of "play list" goes with my oldest too! Oh, and try telling a joke and forgetting the punch line about some dancing elephant that falls and lands ...
Now see, when I was around 10 years old I had a HUGE crush on a girl that lived in my neighborhood and went to the same church I did. Oh, and went to the same school too. So needless to say I would see her a lot, which was fine by me! I simply just couldn't talk to her! The crush was pretty strong, so I wasn't going to let something like not being able to talk with her get in the way. I had to be creative! My little 10 year old mind came up with an awesome plan! I had an older sister that loved to get jewelry, so I figured my crush would as well. But where would I get the money to buy jewelry? And then the epiphany hit me! My sister had tons of jewelry, so if I just took something small from her room she would never notice. Sadly, I did this several times. But how would I give it to my crush? I couldn't give it to her in person. That would mean I would have to talk with her and that wasn't going to happen. So I would take a nice decorated box with the jewelry in it and leave it on the porch and run like the wind after I rang the doorbell. This plan was going well until my sister started to notice missing jewelry. I could simply deny knowing anything, but it got very difficult when my crush began wearing the jewelry to church. Needless to say my sister wasn't too happy and all that hard work went for not with my crush.
Now that I'm "old man Morgan", which will have to be another day to explain that, I love playing "play list" with my oldest. It's quite simple, I get to play a song off of my play list and she gets a chance to name the artist and vice versa. I have to say I'm quite proud that my oldest can recognize the Who, Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Journey, Styx ... I could go on. She usually ends up winning too because yep, a lot of the artists sound the same. I never thought I would say that. I will have to admit though that she has introduced some amazing artists to me.
I've been on meds for three years or so to help with my mental illness, primarily for depression and anxiety. I'm on some meds for bipolar as well even though I haven't been diagnosed of it. It's supposed to even the peaks and valleys as much as possible. I have to say though that I fought taking meds for quite a while. I was terrified of side effects and I didn't want to become numb to the world. No one pushed me one way or the other. My psychologist was supportive either way as we talked about what the outcomes may be with each decision. I got to the point though of being so frustrated for what I was dealing with. Mental illness had turned my world upside down while spinning carelessly this way and that way. I came to the point that I wanted to do anything that would help me handle it better. I remember the day of holding the meds in my hand thinking, "here goes nothing." I was waiting to wake up with six fingers on one hand or losing my appetite for my favorite food. That never happened, but I will admit that I had some side effects. One was that I would hum or sing and not know it. Not the best when you're in an environment where you're supposed to be quiet. A hoot for those around you though. The other dealt with something a bit more private. Nothing that I'm embarrassed to talk about, but for the sake of this writing venue I'll just say it simply went away after adjusting the meds. If you absolutely need to know, reach out to me and we'll chat. The interesting point is that meds taken for mental illness can actually take three to four weeks to completely take effect and may take a couple of tries of different combinations before finding the ones that work best for you. Bottom line, do I regret taking meds? Nope. It's important to understand though that taking meds isn't the end all answer. Taking them doesn't automatically make you "healed." Like I mentioned, they even the peaks and valleys that allow you to cope and handle the mental illness better.
"Great info Ken, and kind of boring, but now I have no desire to take meds," one may say that is trying to decide if it's the best thing for them. I actually came across and heard of some recently that were trying to make that choice of meds or not so much with the meds. I can simply tell my story and let them make the choice that is best for them, but to me it's important to be completely honest. I could easily say something about how awesome they are and I had no side effects. Butt that's like saying, "enjoy your ex-lax! It's great with no side effects." And yes, I did intentionally put two t's on the last but I used. Seemed appropriate!
Lately I have had a new side effect hit me. Does it make me question taking meds? Nope. It's a frustrating side effect, but I've chatted with my psychiatrist and we will be making some adjustments soon. I've learned that is just what happens. So what's the newest side effect? I struggle at times remembering the simplest words. I can be looking at an every day object and I just can't come up with the name. Or I'm in the midst of a sentence and draw a blank. It's cool when it's with my family, but a bit of a struggle when talking with other folks. I even at times draw away from folks lately because I'm nervous I'll make a fool out of myself, kind of like my fear of the ladies when I was younger. You can only imagine how the game of "play list" goes with my oldest too! Oh, and try telling a joke and forgetting the punch line about some dancing elephant that falls and lands ...
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