Well I never thought I would actually agree to come back here, but I did. I was willful and angry. No part of me wanted to return to the place that robbed me of so many memories. But there was something in Virgil’s voice. Something in the tone. I knew she would probably make the decision for me, and that would irrevocably change our long-standing relationship. It just wasn’t worth that. Not after all this time. I had to trust her. I gave in. The ride down was brutal. All I could think of was the reasons I had for not going in. All the stuff that needed to get done. That Diane would be alone with so much work. she was already so stressed, this would be too much for her. It just wasn’t fair. The timing was awful. God I am so sorry for that. When we arrived it was the usual admitting routine. Never a quick procedure. I was weary. Emotionally and physically. I sat trying hard not to cry. I am not often tearful, but for whatever reason the tears were there fighting to escape from my tired eyes. I was asked to come into security. There I sat while the guard sorted all my clothes and possessions. He told me to take off my shoelaces and belt. In that instant something in the back of my brain just came apart. This deep sadness settled over me. The very first experience I had in the psych system was removing my laces and belt while being stared at. It was the beginning of this journey. The very first virgin step into the unknown. Here I was 19 years later, feeling the same self-conscious embarrassment. that gut wrenching feeling of in the blink of an eye being enfantalized. I gave him my laces and my belt with my head hung in defeat. It just got worse from there. I could not even come close to containing my tears and my sorrow. It was as if some vast well had suddenly overflowed. I fought hard, but eventually just let it go just a bit. The last thing I wanted was to appear hysterical. I did not want to end up on status the minute I got to the unit. Nevertheless, it is another hospital visit. Yet another in such a long list. I have stopped counting. To me each feels like a failure. I could not try hard enough, or work enough. I gave up and fell down. It is never about coming here to be safe, though that is what my rational mind tells me. It never translates over. My heart never gets it. At the end of the day I still feel like shit for having to come back. I am so upset and ashamed for what I have done. Not just this past week, but for all the times I have caused my loved ones stress and worry. I care so much for them, yet I am still somehow able to make the decision to try to end my life. I still sit here wishing I had pulled that fucking trigger. ending this never-ending perverse hamster wheel of hospital visits and drugs and therapy. Around and Around. Never ceasing. I can try to outrun it, but it is always there. I cannot outrun this disease, or the stress and trauma that make it so unstable.
I am exhausted. Maybe this is where I need to be right now. To take a breath and stop for a moment. I hate having to come back, but it gives me a lot of space to think and write. It may be a blessing in disguise.

“The thought of suicide is a great consolation: by means of it one gets through many a dark night.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

I wasn’t much present today in session. My mind felt much like a fogged in harbor. Thoughts, like ships, were lost, unable to navigate the impenetrable miasma. I knew Beatrice was speaking to me. I saw the words form on her lips, yet somehow they got lost. My mind was unable to process a response. It was frustrating. The whole process painstakingly difficult for even the most simple of answers. We talked about the shame, and the guilt about the gun. I could not put into words what I knew and what I felt. I know it will be difficult to let go, as that is what she is asking me to do. In a brief moment of clarity it became clear, I feel sorry I did not remain lost in the psychosis right up until a bullet pierced my skull. I know that is how I feel. But I am ashamed and saddened by that. Is it still just my jumbled lost mind feeding me the wrong answers? Am I really sorry? Do I want to be dead? The answer is yes. I do not wish to struggle any longer. I have reached the limit of my ability to swim against the current which is my life. As the Nietzsche quote makes clear, suicide has always been my consolation. It allows me to go on, when everything is coming undone. It allowed me to purchase and keep a firearm, knowing full well it was the last thing that should be in my possession. I did it anyway, and is gave me solace. It may well have been that feeling which guided my hands in the softest of caresses. I touched her like I would a lover, with passion and love. She was my savior. But she never had the chance. In that single moment, the sound brought me back. I was no longer stroking her. No, I was aiming her stout short steel barrel at my temple. The kiss of cold metal unleashing a firestorm of fear and worry. But most of all, it was sorrow. She could not be my savior, not then, not ever. My heart and mind understood in that moment there was no going back. I could not let her be. I tried to get myself together. to soldier on, and place that barrel back against my skull. But I could not finish it. I wish to god that I had stayed in whatever world I was lost in. I would have left this place, none the wiser. Just poof. gone. all the years of pain, all the times I spent on my back spread at the mercy of men, all the times those who loved me harmed me. It would all be gone. I would not be left in this horrified place, losing completely what little trust I had in myself. I can sit and listen, and try to understand how this is only a reaction to medication. That it is only a matter of time. They say it will get better. But what of the experience I just had? That doesn’t disappear. we cannot pretend that did not happen. Terrified does not even begin to describe how I feel when I replay the memories of that late afternoon. I lost control. Complete control. I have a number of hours unaccounted for. Gone. I found my way into my room, no recollection of how. I held a gun, on my knees caressing every inch of her. In some bizarre ritual. No rush, nothing but the breath caught in my throat and my pale fingers touching her. She was laid out before me, in all her sleek beauty. My heart bounding in my chest, so full of love and desire. I brought her to me. Holding her close against my chest, my lips brushing the front sight. I was ready. We would be together, intimate in the coming moments. I felt the magazine hard and angular in my hand. Pushing it deep into her with a click, She was ready and waiting. My heart was racing. sweat rolled in icy tendrils down my back. I wanted her, more than anything. I could not wait anymore, I was ready. I pulled the slide and released it. SNAP. the round was live in the chamber. Just a trigger pull away. But I recoiled. The sound. It was so loud in the dim silence. I wasn’t aware of anything around me. Nothing, Only that I was holding a gun, my gun. I was holding the barrel to my head and my finger was wrapped around the trigger. My breath caught in my chest. I felt as if I were being squeezed. The room was closing in. Everything was getting smaller and smaller and it was just me and a gun. I wish I had pulled that trigger. But I did not. The voice in my head endless this week, never ending barrage of hateful messages. I know I chickened out. I know he thinks I’m a pussy. how hard can it be to just pull the trigger. I would not have this fear, or this hate, or the self loathing. There would be no questions, no shame, no guilt, no sadness, no disgust. I WOULD BE FREE……

In a stupor this evening. My bones heavy as lead. Not an ounce of motivation or desire. The questions remains, what is enough? I can linger here in this state of utter disconnection,but what good will come of it. I wish I had some sign, some advice as to which direction I should go. I don’t want the control. I’m not even sure I could make a sound decision. My mind is confused. Thoughts no longer race, they crawl, painfully slow. None making any sense. I try to focus,but more disembodied bits of thought drag along. I continue trying to focus, but quickly get preoccupied with some random useless piece of information A red herring amidst a sea of false starts and stops. I am exhausted and confused. Time seems to be going along without me. I can’t remember yesterday. I awoke anxious early. I know I felt anxious because I went to run. I usually use the running to try to settle my head. Today was a different park trail run. I have never run there and carried no map. I set off easily, yet parts of the run seem not to exist. I know I was running, but when I looked at my watch time was lost, Where had I been? which way did I turn? I wandered off the trail to look at this beautiful old farmhouse ruins. I got lost. Initially I figured with my sense of direction, I’d be fine. As the minutes passed I started to worry. All the trails looked the same. So many directions to go. I was reminded of the scene in On Golden Pond when the father loses his way in the wood. It is a little scary being lost in 3000 acres. I kept running, trying to get a sense of where I was. By some miracle I came out behind some houses, and found my way out. It was anxiety provoking for sure. I thought I would use the run to explore my thoughts, instead I though of nothing. blank. nada. So, here I am in the waning hours of the day, lost in thought. If only I could concentrate. There are important troubles facing us. As each day passes a little more pressure comes down on us. Little by little, without pause or relief. It never ends. In my heart I know now we need to let go. Enough is enough. It isn’t giving up. It is surviving. Survival is sometimes walking away while you still can. Before you have lost too much. To give up means a tremendous change. I can’t even comprehend just how much our lives will change. To let go also means starting over. Regardless of whether we stand here or move on, they are both terrifying. Is it the fear that is causing me to disappear into the jumble that is my mind these days?

Falling into and out of a fitful sleep, my mind was filled with strange thoughts. Incomplete, unrecognizable. Moving too quickly to even track. Just endless circuitous jumbles. I just want some quiet. There is no quiet. The only peace existing when I am asleep. The seroquel keeps me sleepy and disconnected. Nothing seems real. I feel like I am miles away from myself. The only part present are the words in my mind. It just does not settle. Why can’t my mind be sluggish and heavy as my body. I want only to sleep to be free of this. But sleep comes with a cost. It is dream filled. Not sweet beautiful dreams. Dreams so dark and awful, they leave me breathless upon waking.

All I wanted was to be better. To be free of the pain from my back. God, I would never have taken the cortisone if I knew the hell it would toss me down into. I am so lost right now. Holding on so tight to the reality this will be temporary. Yet my mind feels like it will be forever. This past week has felt never ending. Every minute drawling it out, longer and longer. Nothing feels right with me. I sense some weird distance from myself. Like none of this is real. A dream sequence dragging me along in the mists of confusion. Thick deep mist, obscuring the path ahead of me, and the road I have traveled. Is this just the seroquel? is it my mind falling deeper into itself? Where do I begin and end?

I am trying hard not to think about anything important right now. I do not think it would be prudent to make any major decisions, especially when I seem so out of sorts. I should probably be in the hospital, but I cannot bring myself to agree. There is no quiet there, no freedom, nothing good comes of being there. I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other, not look down, or around me. I don’t want to think about it. I just want to find a solution. Make a decision and move on. To be in this psychological limbo, wrapped in pain, suffering and confusion, is not a good place.

I returned from session exhausted. emotionally and physically. I could barely work up the energy to get from the truck to the house. It was such a complete and pervasive heaviness. I slid under the covers and closed my eyes. Yet, sleep would not come. I wanted only to have some peace and rest. I closed my eyes again, in hopes of sleep. Each noise ricocheted thru my head. Startling me awake. The response far too great for such muffled sounds coming from downstairs. I was acutely aware of every sound, regardless of how minute. I did not understand it.It was a very strange feeling. I was completely disconnected from my tired body, but my brain was reacting with these intense jolts . As each minute ticked off, and yet another sound jarred me, I became angry. Not a mild irritation with the inability to sleep, but a deep rage. I wanted to scream and throw something. My heart was pounding. I was sweating. it was rapidly getting out of my control. I took a clonopin and put in ear plugs. Slowly but surely I began to wind down. I fell into a deep heavy sleep. Without stirring, nor dreaming. I awoke almost 3 hours later. Slightly disoriented. Instantly the anxiety appeared. confused and jumbled thoughts clanging around in my head. I wished I could just fall back into sleep. Avoiding the thoughts and the anxiety. God I just wish this would end. praying for some peace. If only my mood would come to center and stay there.

Sadly I think we are not there yet. It is going to be a long weekend.