During assessments I used to have to ask if patients had any suicidal ideations. Most veterans answered no because they knew I'd paste myself to their sides if they answered yes. An affirmative was always followed up with whether or not they had a plan. Only once was I given details. He was transferred to the psych ward and spent a portion of his thirty day stay in four point restraints. If conspiracy is father to the felony, the plan is the offspring of ideations.
When my anger chews me up and spits me out I fight back, swinging at ghosts, hitting only tangible things that matter most. I push love away, try to snap bonds in half. Isolate. I drag myself to therapy and pit my PhD in pain against her Masters in Social Work. So far she's held her own. We'll see what happens when I really try to push.
In session three she asked if I still felt like using. Of course I do, because this year has been so hard. But its less like a craving and more like a golden parachute. My way out of pain, however temporary. After thirteen years I'm smart enough to know that when I pull the cord, an anvil will jettison from the pack and drag me to the ground.
After I admit that I want to use she asks, "Do you have a plan?"
Funny how the same follow up exists for relapsing as for suicide.
Coincidence?
I think not.
2 comments:
This poem came to mind when reading this. Can't remember if you've seen it before, but may be helpful now.
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice --
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do --
determined to save
the only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~
Thanks for this. Sounds almost like me, but to a greater.. magnitude? I suppose that's the word. Either way, I've enjoyed your writing.
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