will edit later

Suicide.

Suicide. It's a touchy subject. Most people at one point in their lives have contemplated it, even if only for a split second. Is it selfish? Do we, as humans, have a right to end our lives? Should involuntary commitment be legal or illegal? Is it humane to lock someone up for wanting to end their lives? I don't have the answers. We all have our own opinions. If you've lost someone to suicide, you will probably have felt a mix of emotions, mainly anger, guilt, and sadness. The anger because you don't understand WHY, why they would do it. The guilt, thinking you could have done more, and the sadness of their loss. 

I'm not going to deny it - I am suicidal. I have tried at least 30 times. Overdosing, suffocation, hanging, strangulation, drinking bleach, injecting poison, laying on train tracks, jumping off bridges/buildings. All failed, obviously. There are different levels of suicide. The first level is a thought. The thought of ending your life. Then it goes up to, thinking how to end it, then it goes up to details of it, how, when and where, then there's the intention, the attempt, and the very few that do have the intent and try it, that do succeed. Most people who attempt suicide fail, that is a known and proven fact. 

The suicide method you have in mind, says a lot about your intentions and weather you actually do want to die, or a part of you wants to live. Most young people try overdosing, which has the lowest success rate, in my own personal opinion, times when I've overdosed, the first two times, part of me wanted to live, and part me me knew I wouldn't die from it, but I did it anyway, perhaps just for a cry for help, to show how much i was hurting, not for attention, but sure as fuck, swallowing a bunch of pills with vodka makes you feel like its the end, but it never really is. The more 'serious' methods such as hanging, gun, jumping, train, are always considered. However, as humans we are creatures of survival. If you're standing on the edge of a building or bridge, it takes a fuckload of willpower and courage to jump (not saying that suicide is a courageous act, just trying to explain the psychology of humans survival instincts. ) I've been on the edge of a high rise building, I couldn't bring myself to do it. As humans, your brain, your body, as much as you try to defy it, wants to live, wants to survive. It's unnatural to jump off something that will kill you on the landing. So your brain, body, just defies against it and you literally cannot do it. It feels so... wrong, so defiant to lay on train tracks. It doesn't feel right to hold a gun to your head. We're creatures of survival, and death is the end, we try to avoid it, avoid dying, so when you try to kill yourself, it's hard to actually do it, its hard to defy human nature, your own instincts of survival, and its hard as fuck to give up everything you lived for and just do it. 

There have been points in my life, where I have been able to defy those human instincts. I broke my leg jumping off a bridge (only 2-3 story) above the train tracks, landed on the tracks, didn't even think twice about it, and couldn't move anyway. But of course people intervene and i was grabbed off the tracks.

Is suicide selfish? I don't know. I can't talk anyway. I know, from personal opinion and experience, it would hurt people around me. But when your suicidal, you think no one cares ,no one loves you, and even if you do know that they care and love you, you just are so self consumed by your problems, your negative thoughts, that death feels like the only option. Some seek reassurance in suicide, others seek to end their emotion or even physical pain. Everyone has different reasons. And when your on the verge of an attempt, you don't really think clearly. Some people are a complete mess, crying, screaming, high levels of anxiety and stress. Others are just calm. I know in most of my suicide attempts, I have been calm and clear minded. Only in my impulsive attempts have I been upset, crying and anxious. But in thoroughly planned attempts, I tend to be totally sane, normal, you would never know. I remember tying a noose so calmly, as if it was a casual, everyday thing, i didn't even care, i felt no emotion. It was like just doing a chore, putting it around my neck, no doubt, no human survival instinct kicked in, no fear, no second thoughts. just complete and utter certainty. Then that failed, fell from the ceiling. The moment of failure just overwhelmed me and i grabbed a butcher knife and tried stabbing myself. That doesn't work. 

Suicide can mean many things. A way out, a solution, an end to the pain, a big FUCK YOU to the world. It can be caused by stress, anger, anxiety, depression, and especially if you have a mental illness. Many psychotics, schizophrenics tend to have strong suicidal idealizations, voices, messages, influencing them to hurt themselves. I've met sociopaths, psychotics, schizophrenics, you meet every type of person in a mental hospital. I've met countless suicidal people, who seem to be so happy, hiding their pain behind a smile, as if its not even there. Life and Death. Some people are just simply curious about what happens after death. Some are simply bored of life, no motivations nor ambition, so they give up on their future and hopes. 

I can see it from both sides. I've had a few people close to me commit suicide. And god, it hurts. It's overwhelming, and you feel so angry and think "how could they do that to me?", but then there you are, trying to kill yourself, doing the exact same thing that hurt you in the first place. So you sort of understand why they did it. Sometimes you just don't feel it, emotion becomes numb, you don't feel anything. Imagine a normal looking girl, at the train station, casually stepping over the yellow line and lying on the train tracks without a care in the world, with such calmness and casualty, and a smile as the train approaches. It doesn't make sense. I remember being at the edge of a building in the city. Police cars everywhere, ambulances, bystanders, police, paramedics, trying to talk you out of it. Their voices faded, and I smiled at the world, I actually remember giggling, i felt excited that I was going to die. God they must have thought I was psychotic or on drugs. (I actually was on acid at the time) They tried talking to me but I didn't reply. I remember saying "oh my god im so happy, im going to die, finally" and spinning around, tip toeing on the edge of the building, smiling, laughing, i turned around and jumped backwards, because of the crowd of people i was caught by police and paramedics, my whole mind set changed, i pushed my way out of them. This day was basically a suicide attempt rampage, first attempt, 10am in the morning, the police tried chasing after me but i grabbed this guy who was in his car and just got in and told him to drive, he was young and good looking, the police either lost us or gave up. He asked me what the hell was going on, I explained, I said i was on a mission to kill myself and i said it in such a casual mannar, he was really freaked out, i asked him where we were going and he said back to his place, he lied, he drove up at the hospital, i ran as fast as i could and managed to get away from the area, then i went on top of a mall carpark, it was about 5 storys so not that much, i jumped and landed in the grass, i twisted my ankle and broke my arm but that was all, i had to limp my way to the pharmacy and brought a bunch of pills, the sales woman asked if i was okay and what all the pills were for, I said i was going camping with some friends, and was stocking up on necessities. I brought a bottle of vodka and went to the park, sat under an oak tree, no one was around, i downed the paracetamol, codeine and ibuprofen with vodka, then i got up and spinned around and layed on the grass. I saw a police car drive by and stopped, and i freaked out and ran, i was so dizzy but i kept running, they were chasing me but i was a fair distance ahead, it was so hard to run with a broken ankle but somehow the pain subsided and i did it. I found a glass bottle on the road side and smashed it and grabbed a shard of glass and started slashing my wrists and neck, then I ran into some random shop, they had a bit of everything, there was a butcher knife, in a plastic packaging, i just grabbed it out and tried stabbing myself, the police caught up and the shop keeper was in hysterics, i grabbed pills of the shelf and started dry swallowing them, then i opened a bottle of bleach and drank it while trying to avoid being caught by the police, i ran out of the shop, i felt like i was about to drop dead, i don't know what kept me going, but something did, probably complete and utter adrenalin, i just happened to find a rope on the ground, long enough to hang myself with, i was running so fast, the police had to get back up and i ran into a forest and hid behind a tree, they ran past, i went unnoticed ,i remember feeling so relieved. I proceeded to tie a noose and tie it to the tree, it wasn't high enough though, so i had to re-tie it several times, as i had it around my neck and was just about to jump off the tree, i felt someone grab my shoulders from behind and was suddenly surrounded by at least 8 police officers, i jumped off the tree as quickly as i could, but they got the noose off around my neck, i grabbed one of their guns and held it to my head, i had to be roughly restrained and held down for them to get it off me safely ,sense i was jeprodising their safety as well as my own. Then I was handcuffed and brought to hospital ended up in a coma, nearly had to have a liver transplant, then transferred to the psych ward for another involuntary commitment..

That was possibly the worst day ever, not the worst, probably the 3rd worst. I was a completely different person, in self destruction mode, full of adrenaline and amphetamines and was on a mission to die. I think back and find humour out of the situation, just to try to make it not seem so bad. But wow, i was a completely different person that day .Something came over me and I don't know what it was. I had been doing drugs, acid, e's, speed, and ketamine, some of them probably weren't what they were meant to be, and it probably fucked with my brain chemistry majorly. 

So overall, suicide. I don't know. Some people think it's selfish, some people think you deserve the right to do it.

I've tried so many times. And I'm still here, so maybe that means something, but who knows what will happen in the future.

If you are feeling suicidal, have a plan and intent, please call the suicide hotline or talk to someone, fuck even go to the nearest hospital and check yourself in, just tell someone, get help before doing it, don't just go through with it, without having called someone, or told someone. Even if you feel hopeless, there is hope, you just have to find it, and one of my things that works for me in regards to suicide, is delaying it. Tell yourself "I wont do anything for another 24 hours" and so on.

My eating disorder

 Okay, so I've had an eating disorder for just over 4 years now. I am weight restored and mostly recovered, but still struggle occasionally. It started with anorexia, then went into severe bulimia for several months, then back to anorexia, then bulimia, then both. So back and fourth a few times. When I think back to when I was in the midst of my eating disorder, it makes me want to cry. Just last night I was reading through my old diaries, the one where I was at my worst, nearly every entry had the same "i hate myself, i want to die, im so fat and ugly, im a fucking worthless failure, ate too much, need to lose more weight". The self loathing was disturbingly strong, and how obsessive I was with every calorie and every food and drink item I consumed. I just felt numb after reading it, 2 years ago I was at my worst. In the low 80s and completely starved, I was high on starvation, and drugs. Which I did to 1) help lose weight, and 2) escape reality. Exactly 2 years ago, I was sick. Very sick. I can only remember through photos and diary entries, the rest is a blur. It's like it never really happened, even though I know it did. I've tried so hard to block it out. I was so self consumed with myself, and the scale, the number on the scale defined my self worth as a human being. A usual day back then consisted of waking up, my first thought - weight. weigh yourself. now now now. morning is the most accurate way, no clothes on, no hair ties, not even socks. I remember how much of a struggle getting out of bed was. Because I was so unwell, physically from the lack of food, I was very weak and dizzy. I remember I would slowly have to get up, but then I'd get a head rush and black out and have to lie down again. It usually took at least 10 attempts to get out of bed, of which once I stood up the dizziness overtook me, I'd have to hang on to the wall in order to prevent myself from collapsing. I would go to the bathroom then do my morning ritual. Take my clothes off and examine my body. My hip bones protruded significantly, I liked that. But I thought my stomach was still horribly fat, despite it being concave. My sharp defined bones, I was aware, but believed them to be covered in layers of thick, disgusting fat. Of which, was really just skin. I would then take a few deep breaths and prepare myself for the scale of self worth, of self esteem, of my mood, of everything. I'd step on, look down at the number. Honestly, most of the time I had lost weight, because I barely ate. But it was never enough. Occasionally I'd lose enough to bring me some satisfaction but really, it was never good enough. Once that was done, I would shower. I remember this being a very difficult task due to my low energy levels and showering made me more dizzy. I would have breakfast, which was a 66 calorie yogurt. I would eat it in teaspoonfuls, it usually took me up to an hour to finish it. Then I would force myself to exercise until I felt like I was going to faint. By lunch time, no lunch for me! I would drink 250mL of diet coke. Then at 3pm, (afternoon being the most vulnerable to binging) I would have a 7 cal sugar free jelly, which was enough to prevent me from losing control. Afternoons were the worst, the hunger pains, the cravings. It was fucking hard getting through them. I would then go to bed at 5pm. Yes, 5pm. I would get into my pajamas, turn my light off and close my eyes. It took hours until I eventually fell asleep. Occasionally my mother would come in, encouraging me to eat something, I would say no. I was drained of energy, my emotions were limited. My main focus was making it through the night, because at night that's when the thoughts set in. The thoughts of food. Sometimes it would be so overwhelming that I would just look through my hoards of recipes, thinking that I'm going to make them, but no, you never make them, you just look at the pictures, pretending it's real, it's just as good as eating, it fills you up, decreases cravings. I would try to sleep but it was fucking hard when your mind is obsessing over food. Eventually I would though, and the next morning, another day, I'd weigh myself and start all over again. I took drugs a few times a week, I would smoke to decrease cravings, never ever drank alcohol during this time. Occasionally I would binge. And I don't mean just a piece of cake, a few cookies and some ice-cream. I mean, full on binge. After long periods of starvation, your body overtakes your mind, and literally forces you to eat and eat, and eat. The kitchen was a scary place. I had to be very careful at the kitchen. The pantries, full of cereal, crackers, biscuits, all sorts of things. The fridge was even more scary. I had high levels of anxiety while in the kitchen, thus tried to avoid it at all costs and only went in there when necessary. Sometimes, when I was home alone, I would go down to the nearby shops, and spend up to $100 on food, usually it was cookies, ice-cream, donuts, pastries, cakes, muffins, pizzas, chocolate. I'd go home, be in my room and start eating, I felt numb while I was eating. No emotion. It was in a robotic way, a mechanical way. Just open mouth, chew, swallow. There was nothing enjoyable about it. Once I was full, I would purge, then continue, then purge, then eat, then purge, then eat. I would usually purge at least 15 times in one of these binge sessions. Once all the food had been consumed, I would then have to get rid of all evidence ,thinking if anyone found out what a greedy fat pig I was that the world would end. I knew I had purged it all out once I began coughing blood and throwing up stomach acid and bits of blood. Then I'd take 25 laxatives, or 35. Depending on how I felt. I'd swallow them all at once, the tiny little pills. These binge and purge sessions usually left me feeling like shit, wanting to kill myself, and dehydrated and sick. There was a point during my eating disorder where I did this everyday for about 4 months straight. Starve by day, binge and purge by night. It was hell.

An eating disorder is hell. Nowadays when I see young girls, just starting to develop the first signs, I go out of my way to stop them. I just want to scream and cry and say "please, don't go down this path of self destruction". Anyone who's ever had or still has an eating disorder knows how it feels. How you just want to die, how you hate yourself. The self loathing is so strong that it cannot be expressed in words. The starving, binging, purging, laxative abuse, and for some, drug abuse.

Here are some pictures of me back then, about 2 years ago..
 Warning: May be triggering.

This isn't beauty, I don't look good at all. Hospitalization number #3.

some other time in hospital

my IV stand

When I look back on these, I don't quite know how I feel. I want to erase the memories. One of the most amazing, raw and truthful books I've read has been Wasted, by Marya Hornbacher. Although I do warn, can be very triggering. It's best to read it once you're in a good mindset, mostly recovered and not at risk of relapsing. It sums it up excellently. Just what it's like to have an eating disorder. To be in hospital, mental hospitals, as well as medical. I don't have the answer to recovery. I'm probably 80% recovered. Still have a bit to go, but I'm stable and I am over the main part of it. I don't think I'll ever go down that road again, because it caused me nothing but misery and medical problems. If you are suffering from an eating disorder, get help before it's too late, before it kills you, and it will and can kill you.

Introduction...

Hello everyone, this is my new blog. I had an old one fully dedicated to my eating disorder recovery but everything got too fucked up so I deleted it, and this blog is a bit about everything, my life, my experiences, somewhat like a diary, a place where i can express my emotions and thoughts and perhaps give advice on helping others, especially in regards to medication and psychological disorders, and wards/hospitals.

This is me, just so you can have an idea of what I look like. 

Anyway, basically I've had a few admissions to psych wards/hospitals

Anyway, I shall write more tomorrow, I'm no one special, just a pathetic person with little self worth, but I'm slowly getting through life, it's a struggle but I will try not to give up. I've tried to end my life countless times, I have actually lost count, I estimate at least 20, fail, i know right. totally pathetic.Oh here I go with the negative self talk again, not good! I'm trying to change, really, it's just a difficult process to change your whole mindset and dynamics of thinking.