That’s a hard truth, but it’s accurate.
Raised catholic and having seen What Dreams May Come (1998), I am afraid to kill myself. To complicate my desires, I was raised catholic, whom’s doctrine dictates hell for suicide, viewing it as an act of selfishness. I think I have the means via a whole bottle of Xarelto, an anti-coagulant; I just lack the courage and conviction. My anchor to this world is Mojo, my pet dog, whom I love with all my heart; who is my companion.
According to CNN, “suicide rates in the US increased more than 25% since 1999, a new CDC report finds. It was even worse in some parts of the country, with 25 states experiencing a rise in suicides of more than 30%.”
“So, what’s fueling the increase? “Social and life and economic stressors are the ones that create the conditions for suicides to happen,” one doctor said. Limited access to care, including behavioral and social services, also factored in.”
Makes sense to me. I don’t know how long I have been depressed, but I was finally and officially diagnosed by psychiatry at the free clinic I attend. I had received psychology services as early as 1989, receiving manic/depressive diagnosis and I think, following HIV indication. I did not like it; all I did was talk with no analyzation.
Fast-forward to my depression diagnosis in 2007 by a psychiatrist. We started talking and the next thing I know he want to show pills down my throat. NO FUCKING WAY! I may be a garbage can for drugs, but having taken a psyche med previously and feeling like I was walking on the ocean floor, I never wanted to feel like that again. Eventually, I complied during a period of humility and did not like how the pills, this time, were making me feel wired-to-the-tits! I am currently involved with a satisfactory psychologist, which seems to be working for me.
The CNN article ends…
“If you or someone you know might be at risk of suicide, there are ways to get help, including calling 1-800-273-8255 for the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline.”
Yeah right! I was taught to M.Y.O.B. (mind my own business). Besides, I have my own shit with which to deal. Besides, no one really cares or can care unless I tell them about my crap, though good luck trying to find a listening ear nowadays, during the era of ego via cellphones. Last my cellphone the other day on the bus. No pay-phones anymore and took six people requests for help to secure it.
With the recent news of Kate Spade’s suicide and now this morning Anthony Boudain, I find that I am not caring one iota. My damning opinion is that with all the money they had they could afford…
…to buy friends v being lonely like me due to inability to get around and being isolated in my garage dwelling
…afford mental health services, unlike me who is an SSI recipient
…more than one roof over their head, unlike homeless me
I love how the news includes me with the mourning by reporting “the world [mourns…].” FUCK THEM! Through my psychologic sessions, I have learned: anger/rage is a sign of depression.
Oh wait! I learn that Kate & Anthony left behind children. EPITOME OF SELFISHNESS! I only have a dog, but I HE keeps me grounded to this FUCKED UP WORLD!
Finally, and just in case you are as curious as I would be…
Why I think I am depressed:
Loneliness, Papillary Thyroid Cancer, HIV+, Genital Herpes, Kaposi sarcome (second time), insulin-dependent diabetes, homeless, poor, obesity, and ugly.
What I do about it:
Psychological services, journaling, crochet, knitting and recently, started praying (second day, today):
“God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference. If you want me to stay alive, please reveal your will for me give me the courage to carry it out.”
Postscript: Because of my socialism attitudes, I view the death of a rich person as a win for the poor in the upcoming Revolution of the Classes!