Musings XVIII

Silent Killer

For most of my life I have lived with depression.   I say silent killer because I don’t show it.  I learned from a young age that showing emotions was wrong.  I have been diagnosed with PTSD,  and depression.   Throw in episodes of suicidal behavior and how I hid it was amazing.

I know there is a push to bring mental health issues into the forefront.   An Emmy award winning radio new director has been instrumental.  Sheila Hamilton has written a book regarding her journey of reconciliation of the suicide of her first husband.

Weather it good or bad, this discussion has awakened dormant issues from the  past.  I dealt with abuse  (ssexual,  physical and psychological ).  I was bullied in school and told frequently I was going to hell by a Catholic priest.  I guess I  have a  bit of a case of PTSD.

Yes there are programs that are teaching people how to recognize depression and suicidal behaviors.  The problem is that no one could see it me.  A psychiatrist told me that I was the most self controlled person she ever met.  You see I erected wall after wall to contain the raging issues and walls to keep people out.

During the day I would be a professional and at night a psychotic drinker.  I often felt I was pushed into a gaping deep cavern and would start free falling.   I realized if I hit the bottom I would either be dead or want to be dead.  I  would see bottles of alcohol sticking out of the walls and I would grab them to climb out.  To me there was two choices alcohol or suicide.   I often blurred the lines between the two.   Luckily I was never into drugs.  I would not be here today.

As some who actively sought suicide,  I don’t  know if I can answer the questions of Sheila or others.  I know if you can not look into my mind when depression hits.  It probably would be too dark.

When I lived downtown I lived on the 6th floor of an apartment.   Those were some of my darkest days.  Gender Dysphoria was raging and I refused address the PTSD and depression.   I would have my apartment as dark as possible and sit on my deck pounding down Scotch.  I often would lean over the railing and want to fly away.

At those times there was only one path and that was total self annihilation.  Could someone have helped me?   I  don’t think I would have let anyone close to me to help.

if I would have flown, I either didn’t care how people would have been affected or thought no one gave a shit.

I have had lots of therapy and yes I have seen the inside of a 72 hour mental health look unit.  I have been called by a psychologist more than a few times to see if I need help.

To my friend Sheila Hamilton, yes you helped awake a dormant beast.  But I  am not going allow it become the silent killer I used to dance with.  Maybe out of sorting out the wreakage and killing my demons I can help people.


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