What I Miss About Being Normal

Suicide prevention necklackes for men and women


If you are in crisis, click here

I am an alcoholic as well as diagnosed with bipolar 1 and borderline personality disorder. You could definitely say that at times I’ve been all over the map. I am in remission from all three disorders, but bits and pieces of the mania, emptiness, and cravings still remain. In order to be free of pain, I’ve found that I have to follow my doctor’s instructions to the letter, go to Alcoholics Anonymous at least four times per week, and attend classes and workshops to educate myself further. I had a hard life because of my diagnoses, but like I said, I’m pretty much in remission now and I am the happiest I’ve ever been. That being said, I still miss being “normal”, although I never have been. I’ve compiled a list of five reasons why.

emotional regulation

1. Emotional Regulation

Even though I take Abilify, Lithium, Neurontin, and Ativan, I’m still an emotional mess sometimes. I know everyone has their days, but mine can be hilariously dramatic, replete with crying buckets and accusing my loved ones of being against me. On these days I feel like my heart aches for something I don’t even know about and watching the homeless woman push her cart down the street does something to my sympathies I can’t possibly begin to understand.


  1. Drinking

I don’t want my life to go down the tubes as it has so many times with alcohol. I want to drink like normal people! I want to go into a shiny, yet dark, bar and flit around the room in my evening dress or whatever, smoking out of a cigarette holder and saying, “Dahhling”. Of course, that was The Great Gatsby and never my life, but I still want to do that. I just want to feel the alcohol run down my throat, burning as it goes, one more time. I want to get the euphoric feeling and make out with some Joe and rip my stockings.


  1. Being Young

Okay, so I’m only medium-old (40), but it’s only been a few years that I’ve been medicated and in Alcoholics Anonymous. When these things happened, my life got increasingly better, and I’m doing pretty well these days. However, I miss my youth. I was so sick and uncomfortable in my skin throughout my teens, twenties, and thirties, that I was either drunk or miserable all that time. I couldn’t hold many jobs, so by the time I had gone into remission, it felt like it was too late to start a career. I know that it’s not, but sometimes I feel that way (emotional regulation?). I just look back and mourn all the lost opportunities I could have had.


  1. Not Being Stigmatized

This is the reason I write in Suicidal Thoughts. It is so hard for people to recover from mental illness without being made to feel that there is something inherently wrong with him/her. Even though I am a productive member of society now, I still don’t feel comfortable telling people about my disorders. It just seems that when people get cancer, the whole family gathers around and friends are sympathetic. Not so with the mentally ill. We almost have to keep it a secret. We find one another and are so relieved that we can speak freely. There is something terribly, terribly wrong with this. I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve wished for cancer hundreds of times. Then maybe I’d get a parade.


  1. Less Embarrassment

In my particular case, I act out sexually because my mania gets out of hand occasionally. I have a wonderful husband who has done everything for me, but I still find myself flirting with other men, and even sexting with them. I always get found out and I am always so red-faced about it. I can’t believe my husband is still with me after all that, but he is learning to understand bipolar disorder, so he sees my behavior as my sickness and not cheating. When these things happen I feel like a stranger to myself. I mourn the fact that even though I’m on medication and going to therapy, sometimes I slip.

happy rabbit.jpeg

This is by no means a complete list of the things I miss because I am mentally ill. I find reasons to feel sorry for myself every day, but it doesn’t last long, because I realize how lucky I am to even be alive. Mental illness is no joke. I’m including alcoholism in there, because it is a mental and spiritual malady. Those of us who have made it this far deserve a parade in my opinion. Until then, we can all continue to speak our minds about how we feel and maybe shrink some of that stigma down to a manageable size.

Suicide Awareness Necklaces for Men and Women





Why I Write About Suicide

If you are in crisis, click here.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women

People think I’m nuts. They have a point, because I am certified mentally ill, but they think I’m crazy because I choose to write about suicide. I was at a party the other evening and one of the attendees was talking about her life as if it were over. I told her about my blog and that was the end of it, but later I began to stress over talking to her about it. What if she was horrified that I called her out on her suicidality (privately, of course)? I don’t know how she feels. I’m just guessing that she was probably offended or shocked. This is conjecture based on the reactions I get from others who sometimes back away with a sour look on their face when I mention that I write about suicide.

I feel strongly about suicide. I’ve lost two people to the disorder and I almost lost myself. My best friend almost completed a plan two years ago. Any book on suicide will tell you that it is the number 3 reason why young people die. Millions worldwide succumb to it every year. Why should anybody not feel strongly about suicide? I have five major reasons I write. They are listed below.


  1. To Forgive

When Derek died, I went through the stages of grief and then I went through them again. And again. I had conquered fear, I was through bargaining, had brought the denial to light, and was teetering on acceptance. Anger was the only thing that fully remained; it came and went during all my breathing hours. I would never reach a healthy acceptance of Derek’s death unless I reduced my anger by about 95 per cent (it never fully goes away). It was the padding in my heart that made his death seem more bearable.

Most people in our community were very gracious to me at the time, but a few were a little weird. They would tell me how selfish Derek was. I didn’t want to believe them. I knew that he had been suffering from clinical depression, but a part of me let the selfishness theory in. After all, I knew that Derek loved me – why would he hurt me like that?

Unfortunately for me, the anger would last for two decades. It was easier to be mad at him than cry. It was easier to hate him than to remember the thrill of first love and cherish those memories. It was easier not to write about him because… (grabs Kleenex). It’s been 25 years and I’m bawling like a baby right now. Oh my God, my desk is wet! Oh, anyway. I guess the grief cycle comes again.

My favorite spiritual teacher, Emmet Fox, describes forgiveness well. He says that a resentment against another is like a chain, locking you to that person. There will never be freedom in your life if you are chained to someone like that – living or dead. I love Derek, but I don’t want to be chained to someone on the other side. I want to be present for the living. I started practicing forgiveness and amazing things happened. When I thought of Derek, I smiled more, I cried less, and I was a LOT less angry. I believe practicing forgiveness was the nicest thing I could do for someone who I never saw acting selfish once while he was living.

i remember

  1. To Remember

Because of the incredible stigma that attaches itself to suicide, it is unfashionable to remember those lost. Or, we remember them like I did above: with anger and some bundle of sometimes unrecognizable emotions. Survivors are often told that the suicide is selfish, leaving them to avoid counseling or talking about it altogether. When the people in my life died to suicide, I stopped talking about it too. Really, no one seemed to want to hear about my pain and loss.

But the suicides are our loved ones. For however long God chose to keep them here, we are best suited to be grateful for that time. Remembering the good times, without anger, will keep you healthier and your bond with the deceased (yes, there is one) will grow and blossom.


  1. Because of the Stigma

So, from what I’ve gathered in several articles and books, suicide stigma is not a recent invention. Of course I have to mention the middle ages, where they would drag a beheaded suicide behind a wagon or whatever and then they would pierce his/her heart. It all came from good common concern that the dead person had evil sprits that had made him/her take their life. Then, it got a little better and the Enlightenment Age mellowed out the headless dragging, but there was still the Catholic Church and it’s own stigma.

It wasn’t until late last century that we made it a little less illegal to kill yourself. I still don’t think it’s legal, but it’s not legally acted upon as much anymore. When most people alive today grew up with suicidality being a thing to be acted upon legally, it’s no wonder no one wants to talk about it.

Yeah, people think I’m crazy to write about suicide, but I’m not. I’m brave. I’m brave because I will talk to anyone about suicide. I’m sick and tired of not being able to, and if you take my lead, there will be two of us talking about suicide. Feel me?

this is it

  1. So I Don’t Do it Myself

I was very suicidal two years ago. The only reason I couldn’t go through it was my living loved ones. It was getting to the point where I wasn’t so concerned about them either. Eventually, I got to the doctor and my friend gave me the book, Sermon on the Mount. Between the medications, counseling, and reading, I was able to come out of it eventually, but I remember the feeling of total devastation. I have suicidal tendencies. That’s a fact I’ll live with for the rest of my life. I just want a longer life now.


  1. So Someone Else Doesn’t Do it

I write so you don’t do it. Or your mom doesn’t do it. Or your friend. I write to keep you alive. I write to keep us all alive.


In conclusion, I think dialogue will ruin this thing. It will take suicide’s neck and shake it. I maintain that talking about, writing about, having plays about, throwing fundraisers about, loving each other about suicide, will kick it in it’s ever-loving ass.

Semicolon Jewelry for Men and Women


Tesla “Love Song” Lyrics (Just for You!)

So you think that it’s over
That your love has finally reached the end
Any time you call, night or day
I’ll be right there for you when you need a friend, yeah

It’s gonna take a little time
Time is sure to mend your broken heart
Don’t you even worry, pretty darlin’
I know you’ll find love again

Yeah, love is all around you
Love is knockin’ outside your door
Waitin’ for you is this love made just for two
Keep an open heart and you’ll find love again, I know

Love is all around you, yeah
Love is knockin’ outside your door
Waitin’ for you is this love made just for two
Keep an open heart and you’ll find love again, I know

It’s all around

Love will find a way
Darlin’, love is gonna find a way
Find its way back to you
Love will find a way
So look around, open your eyes

Love is gonna find a way
Love is gonna, love is gonna find a way
Love will find a way
Love’s gonna find a way back to you, yeah

I know
I know
I know
I know

What it Feels Like After Suicide

If you are in crisis, click here.

Suicide Prevention Jewelry for Men and Women click here.

gun to head

Derek was my sweetheart when I was 16 years-old. I wrote Derek’s Story, which was about his suicide, but now I realize that I left so much out. When you are a survivor of suicide – either your own or somebody else’s – the feelings left over are extremely confusing. Nothing is what it seems and it can feel like you are lost in your own world. This blog is my attempt to describe the emotions that come and go after a suicide, and try to make sense of them.

middle school

In middle school, the students were told that a boy in high school committed suicide and his girlfriend was beside herself with grief. I remember thinking that if something like that ever happened to me, it would be the most embarrassing and horrible thing that could happen in school (This was 1988, so we would see the actual most horrible things to happen in a high school later). About five years after that, it did happen to me. This is what I did:

  1. I told Derek to “go ahead” and commit suicide. I don’t like to be threatened and I didn’t think he would do it, but he did.
  2. I felt nothing about this.
  3. Three full days later, I went to the police and they found him dead.
  4. I felt nothing.
  5. I cried just a smidge, but I still felt nothing.
  6. Clearly, I was in shock.


When I stopped feeling nothing, I started feeling empty. This was slightly different than feeling nothing. I had a few feelings pop up around this time: guilt, dread, anger, devastation. These were almost welcome after feeling nothing for a few days, but I say almost, because these emotions basically suck. I think the guilt kept me feeling empty longer, because I blamed myself for his suicide, and possibly rightfully. My emptiness confined me to my bed for about a week, and then my dad made me go back to school.

nose piercing

At school, I didn’t know how to act. I would get giggly for no reason and say inappropriate things to people. Teachers and students would tip-toe around me so as not to have to converse. Outside of school, my behavior became erratic. I pierced my nose and started wearing rags, instead of my nice clothes. I morphed from walking around like a zombie to an outgoing young girl and back again. No one knew whether I was coming or going.


Nightimes had me crying under the covers. Having full feelings now, I was overwhelmed. Even though I had just graduated from a treatment center, I went out and got drunk almost every evening. I don’t even think my dad noticed because of his concern about my grief. I got lost in a huge drinking crowd where I would hang out and get completely wasted. This was the beginning of my habit of drinking to assuage pain.


My grief was long and unbearable. One day, my well-meaning best friend told me that since it had been two months since his death that I should be “over it”. I disagreed. I believed that the pain in my heart had years to work itself out. I was right.

In the past 25 years since Derek killed himself, I have asked the same questions almost every day: “Why?”, “Why me?”, “Where did you go?”, “Will I ever see you again?” “Did you know how much I loved you?” It’s been all these years and I’m bawling like a baby right this moment.

butterfly effect

Any death in a family will have a butterfly effect on those around the deceased. Derek’s funeral was standing room only. Batches of people gave their own eulogy and I got up there and said a whole bunch of shit that made no sense. Later, I skateboarded down a hill I didn’t know how to navigate and half killed my own self. No one really knows how to operate when something so horrible happens. My opinion is that we just let our emotions ride until they pass and try to think of the good times with that person. Even if it makes you cry.


Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women, click here.

50 Things to do Instead of Kill Yourself

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women

  1. Call the National Suicide Lifeline.

If you are really in trouble, do not read the rest of this blog. Call the Lifeline now.

  1. Realize that even if you don’t like the way you look, someone thinks you are perfectly beautiful.


You might not even know this person, but believe me someone thinks you’re hot stuff!

  1. Know that there will never be anyone like you, ever.

I know, you’ve heard it all before, but it’s true. You are the only one ever made. You are special and you are special to many people, I’m guessing. People who want to die are sensitive, intelligent people. You are no exception, and people love sensitive, intelligent, loving people.

  1. Make a half-smile. Or a full smile, if you feel like it.

half smile

This is trick from Marsha Linehan, who is the champion behind all the healing of borderline personality disorder sufferers. I know it’s so cheesy, but it actually relieves a little pain.

  1. Listen to the beat of your own heart.

  1. Have a friend give you a back massage – or go get one in town.

back massage

This one might be more difficult. My husband won’t give me a back rub (because he doesn’t “know how”), and I can never seem to afford them. But, it getting a back rub from someone safe is possible, you should do it!

  1. Listen to music from a genre you really dig. On a record player, if possible.

record player

For me, this would be the 70’s. A little Cat Stevens always makes me a little happier.

  1. Watch a funny video

  1. Do some creative writing, but don’t get too deep into the suicidal thoughts.

creative writing

Sometimes this gets dangerous for me, but I just have to remember that I’m keeping my writing light – just for therapy purposes. If you are delving into suicidal material, keep it short.

  1. Go out and talk to one person.

  1. Read your favorite book.

My favorite book is Anne of Green Gables. It’s pretty much torn up by now. I mean, I’ve been reading it since I was twelve!

  1. Take a nap.


Sometimes I feel guilty for doing this, but if I’m suicidal, I remember that I wasn’t going to do anything for the rest of my life anyway. You will feel better after a nap.

  1. Call a good friend. Not one who will judge you.

Do not call that religious friend who will tell you that suicide is a sin. I can’t stand those people.

  1. Float on a body of water, if one is near.


But please don’t drown yourself.

  1. Start finding your ultimate purpose.

Hell yeah!

  1. Explore your talents (yes, you have them).


Underwater basket weaving, anyone?

  1. Have a movie party and stay up all night, even if you are the only one invited.

  1. Take a bubble bath

  1. Think about your soulmate.

soul mate

I think everyone has a soul mate out there, and guess what? The more you think about him/her, the more energy in the universe has to go out and snag ‘em!

  1. Sing in the shower.

sing in the shower

It’s a bummer if you have housemates.

   21. Sing

But you can do this anywhere outside the house.

  1. Think about the people whom you love.

  1. Walk into a warm building on a cold day.

warm building


  1. Walk into a cool building on a warm day.


  1. Sign up for a workshop.

This will get you out of yourself for a few hours every week.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women

  1. Sign up for a support group.

This will also get you out of the house, but the potential to make great friends is here as well.

  1. Make snow angels.

snow angels


  1. Make sand angels.


  1. Make dirt angels (ooh! This one would be fun.).dirt angels

Also self-explanatory

  1. Remember that if you have the capacity to be sad, you have the capacity to be happy.

Was there a time in your life that you felt happy? Maybe in childhood? Think about these times – meditate on them for a while.

  1. Sleep in (all day!).

This is the time to not worry about commitments. You are very sick if you are thinking about suicide. Just stay in bed today and tackle those commitments after you have been rested.

  1. Think about being 80 years-old and being proud of yourself that you are alive.

80 years

  1. Acknowledge the “butterfly effect” that happens when people kill themselves.

  1. Eat some comfort food.

  1. Call an old flame, just to see what happens.

old flame

  1. Watch the entire season of Breaking Bad. All at once.

  1. Call someone you love just to tell them you love them.

Doing this will spark some endorphins, at least.

  1. Have a nice cup of coffee/tea, and drink it slowly, enjoying the experience.


  1. I also prefer Napoleon Dynamite as a pick-me-up, but I’m pretty strange. You might want to pick your own movie.


  1. Cry. A lot. Now cry some more.


Some people think that crying is for weak people. I’m here to tell you that it is for the strong at heart, indeed.

  1. Scream (if you can. Don’t alarm anyone).

But if you can, do it. Hike to the top of a mountain and just let it out. It’s cathartic as hell.

  1. Find a wacky fundraiser and get excited about it.

color run

I wrote a few. Here is the website: 50 Wacky Fundraising Ideas

  1. Bake, or attempt to bake. Give some to your neighbors.


You don’t really have to know how to bake to have fun in the kitchen. It’s a guaranteed distraction, especially when you have to clean up the mess.

  1. Get into that craft you always wanted to be good at.

There are too many ideas to mention. I’m sure you’ve got at least one.

  1. Think about your teenage years and know that nothing will ever be that hard.

struggling teens

  1. Take a walk, no matter the weather.

  1. Go to the movies, either by yourself or with friends.

  1. Lie down.

lie down

  1. Laugh for no reason.

  1. Write a blog:

Suicidal Thoughts

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women

Amber’s Story


If You Are in Crisis, click here.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women

When I was 22, my boyfriend and I liked to go the bar every night. The bar was joined by a restaurant that served delicious Tex-Mex food. We didn’t go there to get drunk (but we did) or stuff ourselves with tacos (we did that too); we were there to see Amber. She was my age and I liked her a lot, but Rob, my boyfriend, loved her as his best friend in the world. Rob was older than we were by about 12 years, and Amber’s fiancé was even older than that, I think. He was the manager at the bar, while she was a bartender. Although Rob and I weren’t as close to Tori as we were to Amber, we liked to visit with them both.

Amber was the sun on a cloudy day. She was so beautiful, witty, and smart – she could always make you smile. That’s probably was what made her a great bartender. However, bartending was only a fraction of what Amber could do. She was also a graduate student and had a student position in the science department. She always told us that the scientists she was working for had a top secret experiment going on that she was allowed to participate in, but she wouldn’t tell us more. I remember her coming over to our house and smoking cigarettes with me on the porch. She knew all about the constellations and would explain these and things like the phenomenon of cults to me. It seemed that Amber knew a little bit about everything.

When Amber sported an engagement band on her ring finger, we were so happy for her. We teased her about Tori finally getting her a ring. She retorted, “I bought this for myself. I knew Tori would never get me one”. Of course, we didn’t know what to say, so we said nothing. I remember being confused about why she would buy her own ring, but it didn’t seem to bother her and I never asked about it.

Amber and Tori would come over for game night or dinner. I remember one time we went out to a restaurant and I got drunk, squirting half and half over everyone from the little containers. Rob was furious with me, but Amber only got a little frustrated. That’s how she was: calm and cool. I loved her for keeping me grounded. I needed that, because I was an untreated bipolar alcoholic. I knew that Amber was Rob’s best friend, and I respected that, but I secretly wanted her to be mine.

I only saw Amber upset once, but I couldn’t figure out why. She said a “nosy neighbor” came over and bothered her about a loud noise coming from her house. Amber thought this was ridiculous and that the neighbor just wanted to bother her. We took her side right away, telling her that it was ridiculous and that she should just forget about it. I don’t think she ever did – she was so pissed off.

Rob and I were having dinner with Amber and Tori one night when she exclaimed that she alone had solved the science problem in her lab at school. We stared at her with dumb looks until she finally thought she convinced us that the year-long hypothetical, college level science problem, had been solved exclusively by her. We told her we believed her, but I don’t think any of us did. “Are you going to tell the scientists?” I asked. “Soon”, she said, “soon”.

She never told them. Word came that Amber was dead. She had put her head in a drawer and shot herself. They would find extra holes in the drawer where Amber had “practiced”. This is why the neighbor had previously come over. It was important to Amber that Tori find her, which is what had made her so angry. None of this made any sense: Amber was always upbeat and almost everyone she knew loved her like a sister. Why would she want to hurt Tori like that? What had happened?

She wanted a ring on her finger in death and she wanted to pass away knowing that she alone held the secret to the science experiment. Tori talked to one of her science coworkers who verified that Amber had hidden the scientific results. But why would she want to leave us? Didn’t she love us? No one could explain a thing about this suicide. It didn’t make sense, but do they ever?

So many people mourned at her memorial. It was a disgusting and sad day. Mourners walked around with lost faces. I thought a few would walk straight into the wall. Amber left us a memory album (she what?!), yes, she compiled a book of memories for her death. It was clear that she knew about this day long before any of us did.

This was 1997 and I don’t know what kind of suicide prevention there was. I know there was a little, because I remember learning about it at school, but even that was minute. I think that if there was more early education, potential suicides would know what resources are out there. This could have helped Amber, but I don’t know that it would have. We’ll never know why Amber had to die, but I can tell you that the people who knew her will never forget her. This is why I work to spread suicide awareness and work for suicide prevention. We need to eradicate stigma and maintain safe places for people to talk about suicide.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women


Semicolon Necklaces for Men and Women

Erin’s Story

If you are in crisis, click here

Semicolon Necklaces for Men and Women

Erin's story

Picture above: “Erin’s Story” by Susan Ward

This is the short story of my life and how I became suicidal. Because it is a bare-bones account of who I am, I am sure that I am leaving out a lot of information that would help you understand me. If you have any questions, please leave a comment. I would love to interact with you. Erin

My early childhood was okay. Mom was Betty Crocker and Dad was Ward Cleaver. I was a pretty happy kid, unless they were fighting with each other. My mother and father could really get into it, and it frightened me. One time they both came bursting into my room, each grabbing hold of one of my arms, and pulled me like they were playing tug-of-war. Neither parent remembers this – or admits to it. They just wanted to get away from one another, but each wanted to take their only child with them.

Finally, they divorced. The judge awarded them joint custody of me. This was the most stressful thing as a child. My mother was slipping into mental illness, in my opinion. On the weeks I would spend with her, she would yell and scream at me for no reason. I looked so forward to seeing my dad, who was calm and nurturing, but the weeks with him seemed to speed by.

I was a promising Olympic hopeful when this was going on. My sport was Rhythmic Gymnastics and I had placed first in a regional meet when I was ten years old. My (now insane) mother was drooling over the chance to have a famous daughter. She pushed me and pushed me to be better at it, but with the added pressure, instead I took a nosedive. My scores lowered and my mother got more freaked out.

Suicide Prevention Jewelry for Men and Women


Finally, my mother gave me an ultimatum: move with her to a town with a more prestigious gym, or she was taking off and I could live with my dad. If this happened, she told me she didn’t want to see me until I was 18 years-old. I was almost twelve at the time. I cried a lot over this, but eventually chose my dad. I still feel that sense of her abandonment today, although I’ve talked to my mom since, and she needs a lot of psychiatric help, in my opinion. She is no one I would have liked to raise me.

Alcoholism took over very early for me. I was about 12 years-old when I impulsively stole a little from each of my dad’s booze bottles, poured it all in a Garfield thermos, and chugged. I don’t remember that night, but my dad does! He tried to dissuade me from drinking by taking me to skid row and giving me the tour. I just felt jealous that the bums got to drink and sit around all day. This definitely says something about me and my alcoholic tendencies.

Bipolar disorder took over not long after that and I was impulsively goading my sleepover friends to snort crystal light powder up their noses, or outrageously flirting with teachers and other students, or kissing older boys, or urging the driver to go faster. I just felt so empty and I was searching for a thrill. I was uncomfortable in my skin and I needed something to make me feel better.

The depression part of bipolar made me cry almost every day. In high school, I would sleep through my classes. During my junior year, I had a boyfriend named Derek, who I was madly in love with. He decided to shoot himself in the head and I was devastated. Although I had just been to rehab, the tools I learned there were worthless in this situation. I became more depressed, impulsive, and alcoholic.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women


I left high school my senior year to go study at the local community college. I was so uncomfortable all the time; it would make me think I had to get out of whatever situation I was in. That’s why I left high school. College was better, but still, I was feeling like I had to bail. So I followed the Grateful Dead all summer.

During this time, I took way too much LSD. I traveled with a man I barely knew and to tell you the truth, probably wouldn’t even have had lunch with. He took the battery out of my car and put it in his, so I was essentially trapped. His car was smashed by a delivery truck while I was in it, injuring my back and shoulder. My “friend” drove away from the scene due to his not having a license – a fact I had not known about. I struggle with my back and shoulder to this day.

Then I got drunk. I got drunk, drunk, and drunk. I held jobs for less than a year. I flunked out of community college, alienated people at bars, and became a stripper so I could get paid to drink. I got kicked out of those bars too. I didn’t care about anything except getting drunk, and then I found methamphetamine.

For a year and a half, I smoked, snorted, and even shot methamphetamine. What was best about this drug was that it calmed me down for a while. I definitely got amped, but there would be a time after ingestion when everything just seemed alright. This was what I was searching for all my life, it seemed. As a bonus, I could drink a lot while taking meth. Like for 72 hours straight.

I sobered from meth and alcohol in a treatment center I stayed in for four months. I remained sober for seven years after that. During this time, I struggled to manage my bipolar symptoms and I had yet to be diagnosed with borderline personality disorder, so I was trying to manage symptoms without knowing why I had them. I acted out sexually during this time and impulsively took my medications as they were not prescribed. I was sober, but I was still in trouble.

I finally drank again, which brought back feelings of relief and comfort. I could never stop at tipsy, so I got shitty drunk whenever I drank. I lost my driver’s license for four years. Luckily, I lived with my current husband at the time and he could drive me around, but otherwise I was trapped in the house if he wasn’t going anywhere (we live in the country). I continued to drink and finally, my husband kicked me out.

Semicolon Necklaces for Men and Women


I went to live with my dad for a year. I ended up taking off with another man I wouldn’t even have lunch with. He was living in a tiny little camper trailer, and now, so was I! I decided to go off all of my medications and get pregnant with this guy. Three months later, I had an abortion. The guy and his family harassed me for months, but the deed was done. I had been mentally sick and needing medication while I was pregnant, but there are few medications you can take while carrying a fetus. I also realized that I was too messed up to be a mom.

Still recovering from the abortion, I took off with another homeless guy (lunch? No thanks.). We ended up staying in this ancient and small Airstream trailer that was sitting in a junkyard. The dust in that place was at least a half-inch thick. This was in Eastern Oregon and the nights were freezing. I had to squish myself into a sleeping bag with this guy in order to stay warm. I lay awake like that one night and decided that I wanted to kill myself. I just didn’t know how.

I escaped back to my husband and he welcomed me with open arms. My bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorders were still not being treated and within a year, I cheated on my husband twice. The first time, I tried to commit suicide by drinking a giant bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one hour. I woke up two days later and was taken to a psychiatric hospital. Because I had no insurance, they just let me stay there for seven days without treating me. They had no problem charging me $14,000 though.

The second time I cheated on my husband, I ended up in jail for drunken disorderliness. The doctor there prescribed me some meds and I felt relief right away. I was put on probation, but get this: being on probation meant I was eligible for a free doctor. The doctor put me on an antipsychotic medication and I had never, ever, felt better. All of the pesky bipolar symptoms went down to a low roar and I felt like I could do anything.

A few months later, something strange happened. I fell into a depression because I realized how much I had wasted my life. I looked back and saw a drunken, meth-addled, poor student, bad employee, and awful partner. I couldn’t find a way to make anything of my life now. Suddenly, I knew I was ready to die. I just needed to find a way to make it look like an accident, so my loved ones wouldn’t have to grieve a suicide.

Suicide Prevention Necklaces for Men and Women


I can’t sit here and describe the horrible guilt, despair, and sorrow I felt when I realized I was ready to go to the other side. Those feelings weren’t for me; they were for the people who I would leave behind. It was so weird to finally have freedom from the symptoms which plagued me for 25 years, yet feel I was in a rock-bottom mess. I just felt worthless and I wanted to die.

Therapy. 12-step meetings. Talking to friends. Therapy. Counseling. Reading self-help books. Therapy. 12-step meetings. Reading spiritual literature. Therapy. Counseling. Talking to friends. Talking to a 12-Step sponsor. Okay, I think you got it.

I changed my attitude and decided to get busy living instead of get busy dying. I decided that I could spend each day doing nothing but what I needed to do for the day and let the future shake itself out. So far, it’s working. I don’t feel suicidal anymore – I love my life. If you’ve read this and something sticks out for you, please leave me a comment. Thank you for visiting my blog.

Here are some helpful books about some of the things I mentioned:

The Bipolar Disorder Survival guide

I Hate You Don’t Leave Me

The Sermon on the Mount: The Key to Success in Life