I Don’t Want to Write About #Suicide for #WorldSuicidePreventionDay

Do Not Want to Write About Suicide. Background image is chainlink fence with people playing basketball behind it

I don’t want to write about suicide
I don’t want the image of her
Clinging onto a chain link fence
Chef’s knife in hand
Chef’s knife inside of her
Looking through the chain link
At kids playing in the park
She mourned the loss of her son
She could not contain her grief
She could not hold on
She had other children
They no longer had a mother
My father no longer had a cousin
I no longer had a cousin once removed

When I was 18
I, too, wanted to kill myself
I thought the world
Better off without me
My family
Better off without me
The emotional pain
Unbearable
A living hell
But I didn’t kill myself
I sought help
I got help
But I was not a mother
Grieving the loss of her son


International Association for Suicide Prevention - September 10, 2017 - World Suicide Prevention Day - Take a minute, change a life.

World Suicide Prevention Day 2017

Barely Fiction: Kate.1

Kiss me, Kate? Good luck You cannot tame this shrew This woman of sometimes Violent temper and speech She remains wild and free At heart a non-conformist Pugnacious and proud

Her true and legal name is Kitt Kathleen O’Malley. She loves her name and is grateful her parents came up with it — a great stage name if there ever was one. Her first name is typically a nickname for Katherine or Kathleen, so her name is redundant.

She had thought that Katherine meant catharsis, or purification through emotional release, a meaning she’s always identified with. Now that she researches her name, the etymology is unclear, perhaps originating with the goddess Hecate.

Hecate (Hekate) is a goddess of Greek mythology who was capable of both good and evil. [Metaphor for bipolar diagnosis?] She was especially associated with witchcraft, magic, the Moon, doorways, and creatures of the night such as hell-hounds and ghosts. [Who knew?] She is often depicted carrying a torch to remind of her connection with the night and in sculpture with three faces, representing her role as the guardian of crossroads. [Interesting…]

– Hecate by  & [Bracketed writing by Kitt]

Anyway, yes, she openly expresses strong emotions, perhaps less so now that she’s medicated for bipolar disorder. She remains theatrical, loving attention and being on stage. She’s also a Leo, so add that to the mixture.

For this piece of flash fiction, she’ll go by Kate. Why? Because she named this piece Kate before she started writing and because it ties into the “Kiss me, Kate?” poem which ensues. Is she a shrew, a woman of violent temper and speech? At times she has been, but she hasn’t overthrown a table in over a year or two (she just did that once). She has been known to throw adult temper tantrums. Something she’s not proud of. Luckily her meds and psychotherapy help her keep an even keel.

Kiss me, Kate?
Good luck
You cannot tame this shrew
This woman of sometimes
Violent temper and speech
She remains wild and free
At heart a non-conformist
Pugnacious and proud

Writing in third person, as true or as outlandish as she pleases, taking liberties with the facts, perhaps this will grow into an autobiographical novel. More likely than not, these words will remain here as a flash and then die the death of so many other blog posts, lost over a relatively short time period to the archives.

Talking to Yourself in the Third Person Can Help You Control Stressful EmotionsMSU Today. July 26, 2017.
Third-person self-talk facilitates emotion regulation without engaging cognitive control: Converging evidence from ERP and fMRIScientific Reports 7. Article number: 4519(2017). doi:10.1038/s41598-017-04047-3.

 

Verbal Non-Verbal

verbal

Sometimes, I’m verbal
The words rush
They press
They insist on getting out of my head
They keep me awake at night
Unless I shut them up
Turn them off with meds

Sometimes, though,
I’m simply not
Sometimes, I’m non-verbal
The words are not there
I do jigsaw puzzles
Watch TV
Play with numbers
Rather than words

When the words fly
They are raucous
Noisily filling my mind
Needing to get out
I need relief
So, I write

Then, I must get
The racing commentary
Out of my mind
Onto the screen or paper
In black and white
Where later I reshape them
Edit them into something coherent

Perhaps
Or, perhaps,
Sometimes, I leave them
In a jumbled mess
All over the page

Wave the White Flag

white-flag

Need to write out the pain and exhaustion in my heart
Pain and grieving my parents’ dementias
Pain and exhaustion caring for my son
Must back off both
Must take care of myself
Must
Must
Must
Must take care of myself
Ready to throw in the towel
To admit defeat
To wave a white flag
To say I give up
I give up
I cannot control the chaos that is my life
I cannot heal others
They must help themselves
They must accept or seek help from others
Not just me
I need a break
I am exhausted
I cannot take it anymore
I am not strong
I am broken
I am ready to break
The burden is too great
The weight on my back too heavy
Please take it off me
Please stop
Please give me a break
Please
Please
Please
Stop
Stop
Stop
Please stand up on your own
Please stop asking me to fix you
Please accept that you, too, are broken
Please stop looking to me for help
Please
Please
Please
I cannot do this anymore
I cannot
I cannot
I cannot
It’s too much for me
Too much
Too much
Too much
I’m breaking
Under the burden
Fuck this shit


P.S. When I free-wrote this I vented. Yes, I’m exhausted, but hanging in there. Just fed up. This is theatrical – I know – but, I wrote how I felt at the time.

P.P.S. My husband made me tea with honey and brought it to me. On his days off, he brings me coffee and Cheerios with banana. I love eating breakfast in bed. Not a morning person. Last night he bought me a box of Entenmann’s chocolate frosted donuts, which I’ve polished off (one of my favorite indulgences). My 16-year old son popped in and told me he loved me and gave me a hug. I’m appreciated.

Cocooning

cocoon-focus

Cocooning

Recovering from social demands
From social interaction
From caring for others
My son
My husband
My parents
From caring about too many
From caring too much

You may not hear from me
You may not read much from me
I’m depleted
I need to refill
Not to care so much about others
But to care more about myself
To care more for myself
For now, I’m quiet…