Not A Punk Rocker – 2015

Other times, writing only helped her to keep from crying, drinking, puking or whatever else she could do to punish herself for not being what she or others wanted her to be, consciously or not. . .

She hasn’t posted much recently about how she has really been feeling. A few things here and there, but nothing too detailed. It isn’t because she is all better, cured or doing just fine.

Instead, she has started to have trouble finding the words to explain where she is and what she is feeling. Where being rambling and disjointed in her posts never bothered her before, it does now when it comes to the “important” issues. Rather than frustrate herself further by her inability to effectively express herself about something so serious, she just continues to prattle on in this space. Posts here and there, comments everywhere.

Soon, she will be back to using this space to discuss those important life and health subjects, interspersed with the usual discussion of superheroes, music, and silly things. Writer’s block, even when caused by mental health issues, won’t stick around forever. She will be OK until then, because she is here at least. Because no matter what happens, or who reads or comments, this is her space to talk.

Here, with the words she has written before and the ones you have written back, she is surrounded by her friends. She’s found that she is not alone, that there is help, that others do care without keeping score or expecting something in return. Diligence is important, but trust is easier for her to give now than before.

Read more of Sheena’s story. Visit Blogging While Depressed, Tired and Bulimic | Not A Punk Rocker.

Not a Punk Rocker – The Year That Almost Wasn’t

Note from Ruby:  This post is part two of two posts that Sheena, of Not a Punk Rocker, shared with BFMH.  The first part was posted here just two hours ago.  In case you missed it, it can be found by clicking this link: Not a Punk Rocker – Teenage Depression: The Kid, Part 1 | The Official Blog For Mental Health Project.

Trigger Warning: Suicide

A year ago today, my son tried to end his life.  It didn’t work.

If it had worked, I would have gone right after him.  I have no doubt about that.

Depression is something I deal with every day.  I have had major setbacks recently, mainly due to the timing of several things falling apart at once, but I am working  on them.   This time last year I was also in a bad state, though not as low as I am now.

Matthew, on the other hand is the opposite of where he was in February 2013.  Thank God, god or whoever you choose for that. . .

[M]edication is an integral part of his routine.  If he is late taking it, such as sleeping in on weekends, he notices he is crankier than normal.  It helps him feel better.  He likes to feel better, so he takes it without complaint.  Just part of his day:  Wake up, take pill, make coffee, play tunes, walk to school.  Medication is only part of the puzzle, which he understands.  That’s where therapy comes into play. . .

I held my breath a lot during that time, and several times since. I would worry about coming home and finding him gone, one way or the other.  I would worry about him going back into the spiral of depression and me missing the signs, like I had before.  Everything had me worried, and scared, and anxious.  My psychiatrist worked with me during this time to get my meds straight so that I could deal with the situation better. . .

He is open about his struggles, though he has decided he doesn’t want to write them up at this time.  More than once I would hear him discussing depression or medication with friends while on a video game.  They asked questions, he would answer.  He was helping in his own way to break the stigma among his peers .  The vision his friends had of the “emo” kid being the one who gets that low was shattered when the easy-going class clown, with no enemies and seemingly friends with everyone, decided one day that life wasn’t worth living. . .

Matthew inspires me to want to get better myself.  Not just in my role as his parent/caretaker  but seeing where he has come from to now.  If he is able to come back from where he was and do the work needed to face his mental health head on at 16 and 17,  then why shouldn’t I keep trying too?  There is still a long road ahead for him, and it may not always be easy, yet he still goes forward rather than stop out of fear or failure.

Read the rest of the story by visiting The Year That Almost Wasn’t | Not a Punk Rocker.

Not a Punk Rocker – Teenage Depression: The Kid, Part 1

Note from Ruby:  This piece is part one of two posts that Sheena, of Not a Punk Rocker, shared with BFMH.  The second part is scheduled to go live on this site two hours from now.

Trigger Warning: Suicide

Tuesday, February 26, 12:45 PM.  I am at my office, avoiding a staff birthday luncheon, when the phone rings.

It’s a number from [my son’s] school.

My first reaction was to sigh, my second was to pick up the receiver and get it over with.  What was it now?  Had he failed a test, not turned in homework, gotten caught on unauthorized websites or something else?  Was he sick?  If so, how bad?  Could he wait an hour for me to get there from work, or should I hire a cab?

All this was going through my mind as the Assistant Principal introduced herself.  That was the first sign it was not academic or illness.   Now I am thinking unauthorized websites, or something totally out of character like fighting. . .

I would never have been able to predict what the AP said next, even with hindsight of the last 18 hours.

“He texted that he had overdosed on pills and was planning on killing himself.”

His resting heart rate was at 136 and climbing and he was drowsy; they were calling to ask me which hospital I wanted him to go to. . .

Mental health is not a forbidden or “secret” subject in my house as it was when I grew up.  The details and the depth might not be shared all the time, as in my not knowing my son was feeling suicidal or him not knowing about my bulimia, but general depression and anxiety are discussed.  No, not every night at dinner, but the need to seek help or ask for it.  I like to think for a mother-son team where one of the parties is 16 years old, we do pretty well with communication.  Not perfect, but better than some relationships I had seen with his peers.

So why didn’t I see this coming?

. . .

If you search on my blog, you will see more recent updates on the kid, but as part of this blogging initiative I plan to reblog in order and provide more information as we hit the anniversary.  It will soon be one year since his attempt.

One year.  Hard to believe.  A year that he didn’t think he wanted to see and, for several hours, days and weeks, I wasn’t sure I was going to get to have with him.

Read the rest of the story by visiting Teenage Depression: The Kid, Part 1 | Not a Punk Rocker.

Not a Punk Rocker

Today is good, tomorrow might be OK.  Yet you worry about what will happen if these meds stop working…next week, a few months, or a year like you almost got to this time.  What will happen when they don’t work?  What will happen when you run out of things to talk about in therapy? What will happen if all the meds stop working?

You, and I, can’t think like that.  Sometimes we can only think one day ahead at a time to keep moving forward toward something better. It’s OK to only look a day at a time right now. Eventually you will want to start looking further.

Trigger warning:  Talk of eating disorder, abuse (emotional, physical, sexual), suicidal ideation. 

Read the post in its entirety!  Visit Going in Circles | Not a Punk Rocker.