What I'm Trying to Remember During Suicide Prevention and Pain Awareness Month
September is Suicide Prevention Month and Pain Awareness Month.
This month is reminding me that both my mind and body are sometimes (or most times) working against me.
This next March, I will be celebrating (yes, celebrating) 10 years since my suicide attempt.
My mother and I both believe the fact I am still here and still fighting my mental illnesses is something to be celebrated.
But this year, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia, a disorder characterized by widespread musculoskeletal pain accompanied by fatigue, sleep, memory and mood issues.
During the flare-ups, I have a tendency to tell myself I am fine. And when it comes to the pain, I am just being dramatic.
Then, I go home and take the world’s longest, hottest shower and cry sitting on my shower floor.
All while the pain and doubt is happening, my depression and suicidal thoughts are circling, just waiting.
I want to make something clear: I have suicidal thoughts but am not suicidal.
But today, I am reminded that when it comes to my pain and depression, all optimism falls short.
I am a natural born optimist and I have the ability to get anyone to believe in themselves to conquer their worst fears and biggest dreams. Which is ironic because the mental illness and fibro have their own way of taking away that optimism, along with my drive to do anything.
During this month, I mourn the parts of myself that were able to be active without pain and able to live life not according to a pain scale.
I miss the parts of myself that woke up early and had energy for the coming day and never canceled on plans because of pain or fatigue.
I miss the parts that could rally on after a long weekend with my high energy friends, living life with no regrets.
I mourn that person.
But this month I also celebrate being alive.
I am here to see my younger brother graduate college and go into the seminary. I am here to see my parents buy the house by a lake they will retire at. I am here to be the wacky aunt when my nephew is born and my older brother gets married. I am alive and screaming at my best friends’ medical/dental school graduations.
And I am here to be loved by everyone who has supported me through all the diagnoses, doctors, medical bills, prescriptions and mental breakdowns.
Although my body and mind seem to hate me sometimes, here I am still kicking.
As I carry on with this Suicide Prevention and Pain Awareness Month, I will keep telling myself one thing:
I am alive.
If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.
If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “START” to 741-741.
This post originally appeared on Loving Jaimie.
We want to hear your story. Become a Mighty contributor here.
Thinkstock photo via Halfpoint.
Mental illness runs in my family. My mother, my maternal grandfather, and my paternal aunt, all struggled openly with their issues. I guess you could say I was born to talk about it, and so, I take my voice very seriously. I am a suicide attempt survivor and have battled depression and anxiety since I can remember. I talk about it so other can feel more comfortable talking about it. Giving an incite into what goes through my brain for those who love those with depression is just as important as letting those suffering with the disease know that they are not alone. I have also been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, which I enjoy to write and talk about, but it is still new to me. My motto is if we can talk about pooping, we can talk about mental illnesses.
lovingjaimie