I Got Out ("It's All Alright" -Fun)

This is my first time writing on a blog..... Ever. I wish I could say that I had some clue of what I was doing here, but in all honesty I don't. I'm not usually an open book...in fact if you were to ask anybody that knows me they would tell you I was the exact opposite. With that said I am trying to be more open and what better place than here. I don't know where to start or how to introduce myself. So I'll start from where it gets Interesting. 

It was October 8th 2013. Five days after my 25th birthday. I remember waking up that morning with no hope. Like every ounce of happiness and ability to rationalize and look towards a better future had been stolen, robbed in my sleep. I sat in bed that morning and contemplated the question William Shakespeare so brilliantly approached in Hamlet. "To be or not to be". I don't remember much after that thought. Looking back I can remember choosing to take my life but I don't remember the selling point. The straw that broke the camels back. What I do remember is waking up in the hospital with nothing. No feelings towards anything or anybody. I remember being overwhelmed with emotions of  helplessness, loneliness, being scared, mad, confused, and yet....I felt nothing. I remember the looks on my family's faces as they stood over me asking me questions I knew I wouldn't be able to answer. However, of all the things I remember...the one thing that sticks out is remembering the relief that over came me as I came to the realization that I had been given a second chance. At that moment the deciding factors to take my own life did not seem relevant or important. At that moment I knew things were going to change. That I was going to change.  That day I cowardly came out to my family. At the age of 25 I was finally admitting who I was. Not only to myself but to family. To make a long story short my family was nothing short of supportive. My Mom is constantly reminding me of how happy she is I "Got Out" and strangely enough that's how I feel. Like for all these years I had been trapped in this mindset that nothing could make me better. That I was broken and worthless. After years and years of battling with myself I can happily and proudly say I GOT OUT! I have never been happier and though at times I feel down, nothing is as worse as feeling nothing. 

My name is Jaimee. I'm 25 years old. I am mormon and love my religion and I'm a lesbian. I came out one month ago and if I have learned anything from my experience its that "It's All Alright". At this point in my life I have NO IDEA what I'm doing. I guess through all this rambling and mess what I'm trying to say is we are in this together.... and it will be alright. 

Jaimee.

Log Off Of Life

I’m walking home. It’s cold and my headphones aren’t nearly as loud as they need to be. I try to keep a straight face but I know I look empty. Like my smile is too fake and my glare is too real.

My car broke down again. Something so trivial and it’s really getting to me. It’s been getting to me. Everything has. School and work, family and friends [or lack thereof]. My life has become an endless parade of Glee episodes, lying in bed, and cake. If it weren’t so pathetic it would be comical.

With every step I saw razor blades and blood. I knew what I wanted when I finally got home. I wanted it to be over. I wanted to be done.

But also I wanted to be selfish. I wanted other people to hurt. I wanted other people to finally see what was going on. Earlier that evening I had a conversation with my mother.

Mom: Are you okay?

Me: No I’m not okay. I’m doing terrible.

Mom: But you sound great?

Me: Well I’m not. It’s all a part of the façade. I’ve been fooling you guys for years.

The amount of emotion in my voice scared me. I didn’t have emotion did I? I mean where did that come from? I’ve been telling my mother I’m suicidal for a while now and I don’t remember ever sounding like that. I’ve always been so calm. And maybe that scared her, to hear me talk of not existing anymore with such complete lack of emotion. Or maybe that was why she never really understood the depth of it.

But I didn’t do anything, obviously. I have a rule. When I feel this way I just go to sleep. It doesn’t matter what else is going on I just take the appropriate dose of sleeping medicine and crawl into bed with my music. And obviously every time I’ve felt okay enough in the morning to wait.

Now I started this post on Tuesday night but something happened Thursday that changes this.

A friend of mine tried to kill themselves. As one friend put it “he tried to log off of life”. I wasn’t terribly close with this person but every time I hung out with him he seemed so happy. It was such a shock to me. The entire day I was just, I don’t know, blurry. Laughing and having fun seemed wrong even if that was the emotion that was playing out.

When I told my mother about my friend she told me to remember how this felt. To be on the outside and feel this way. How it would feel to my family and friends if I did commit. And even though I barely knew this kid it affected me. It made me wonder if I had done the same thing would it affect anyone?

And so when I was playing with this post in my head I realized that I couldn’t just end like that. I knew I had to put in some resolution so people wouldn’t worry about me. Something that said I wasn’t going to off myself anytime soon. At the time I couldn’t think of anything that I hadn’t said before but then something funny happened Thursday.

I looked over at a girl that I was kinda crushing on (way out of my league, nothing will ever happen) and she had her arm around another girl for just a second. The immense stab of jealousy made me laugh. It was so shocking. Like what is this emotion? I’ve been so hung up on people that have written me off long ago that a new emotion like this was out of the blue.

But liking someone, jealousy, butterflies, giggling. They are things that I’ve missed because I’ve been so dead inside. My general apathy for life was killing me. But maybe recognizing the little new emotions will be a stepping stone to a less a-pathetic life. Who knows… All I know is that I’m still here. And today feels like it will be a good day. And I have something to look forward to tonight and tomorrow. And I’ll just keep taking it one day at a time.

Dear Suicidal Self

Hello. You seem to be having a fairly quiet day today, which is good news for me. Tuesday, however, was a different story. We went to the therapy and you cried for a while bout how much you wish you could just go away. You didn't want to be here anymore, but you finally admitted that you were too scared of an afterlife to try to kill yourselves. What would be the point, after all, if you just kept on living after death?

Then you got talking about an afterlife in which we could be happy. Your picture was of our aunt and uncle's old beach trailer in San Clemente, on a pebbly, rocky, misty beach. We could live there in harmony with a dog and with rooms and rooms and rooms of books. If the afterlife could be a long stretch of misty beach with fresh fish on the pier, a good black dog in a cozy house, and all the time in the world to read all the books we will never had time to read, we'd be content.

Aaron Freeman wrote a beautiful sketch for NPR a few years ago that begins, "You want a physicist to speak at your funeral." He says,

"And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.

And you'll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they'll be comforted to know your energy's still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you're just less orderly. Amen."

We both find that comforting.

Still, the other part of me, the one who wants to live and experience and grow, wants to remind you on those terrible days that there are things in life that you and I both love. Here are some pictures to illustrate:

First of all, my wonderful dog,

And my Very Photogenic Boyfriend. I also love my wonderful friends, and would add photogenic pictures of them as well, but I'd be afraid of embarrassing them.

I love the seasons and the mountains and the trees.

There are those times when I'm so ridiculously happy to be alive, like at the 7th Harry Potter book release with these ridiculous glow-in-the-dark Harry Potter-esque glasses.


















And, of course, somewhere in California, San Clemente and its pebbly rocky beach and its long misty pier and its fresh fish and its warm cafes really does exist. Which is a comfort in itself.

Anyway, try to remember these things on those bleak days when you want your life to be over. It's hard. It's bad. And it's not going to just go away. You're going to cry, and you're going to hate yourself, and you're going to hate your life. But hold on, and remember that good things exist, and that people love you, and that you love them too.

Playing with my boyfriend's best friend's adorable baby girl for an hour today didn't hurt either.

And, of course, remember how beautiful poetry is, and what a comfort that can be in hard times.

Much love to everyone, and good luck to you all this coming week!

Carry

I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

-Billy Collins


Oh, and ps, happy bisexuality day! Celebrate!!

Horror Movies

Since Halloween is my favorite holiday, my boyfriend and I have been kicking off the October season early by watching horror movies. For instance, this weekend we watched this one:

which was absolutely and completely terrifying, in spite of the eventual triumph of this lovely leading lady:

played by Jessica Harper. We also watched Interview With the Vampire tonight, and I've never wanted Antonio Banderas to make out with Brad Pitt so badly:

or at least for their fabulous hair to become romantically involved in some way. 

Anyway, what I've been thinking about tonight is the fact that we have an entire holiday that forces us to think about death. I guess in American culture it isn't really about death anymore--it's about kids dressing up in cute costumes and parading around suburban streets to collect candy. Alternatively, it's about me watching scary movies and throwing a Halloween party featuring pumpkin carving, baked pumpkin seeds, caramel popcorn, and dinner inside a pumpkin. Spooky Halloween decorations placed strategically around my apartment are fun too.

But--and correct me if I'm wrong--it seems like Halloween at its heart is a reflection on death and dying, even if our culture tries to ignore that, like it does every other facet of aging and dying. It makes the familiar unfamiliar by dressing us up in masks and sending us to scavenge the dark neighborhood under streetlights. We hang up cutesy little ghosts that bobble from trees and windows, completely divorcing them from the idea that they represent dead souls.

I guess I was thinking about this in part because I've been watching so many vampire movies. Vampire mythology inverts the Christian mythos by substituting unholy vampire blood for the blood of Christ, which then acts to resurrect vampires to immortality. Interview With the Vampire wants us to believe that the tradeoff isn't worth it--instead, we're supposed to die at a given time to make way for other souls, so that we're not constantly feeding off each other. But death is a terrifying prospect for most of us, which makes it hard to fault vampiric characters who choose an unholy immortality over death.

What's interesting about Halloween, though, is that in some ways it becomes a celebration of death. Autumn represents the temporary death of some parts of nature, but it's a beautiful season (and, if you couldn't tell, it's obviously my favorite season). I know that it's been hard for some friends of mine who have lost their faith in a monotheistic god to deal with the fact of death without the cushion of faith in an afterlife with an eternal family. Speaking for myself, I don't find the idea of an afterlife comforting; it indicates that life goes on in some eternal toil, when what I want out of death is rest and release. But still, death is big, and terrifying, and painful, and frightening, regardless of whether or not you have a religious cushion.

But the point of the matter is, no one knows what happens after death. Different religions take different perspectives, and I like the Islamic idea that the afterlife is like an oasis in a desert. But what we do know is that everyone dies. Which is part of why we need a Halloween--a carnivalesque turning of life on its head to remind us that death is a natural part of life, including within the natural world itself, that the eerie can be lovely, and that as humans, we share a collective fascination with and terror of death, which in itself makes death less awful and all-consuming and disastrous.

I hope this post isn't offensive or harmful to anyone; speaking as a suicidal person, death can be a tricky thing for me to talk about. But Halloween is one of those rare times that makes me feel gleeful about being alive. And so does this poem by Robert Hass, a former poet laureate, which, in my opinion, is about the joys of life, of human sexuality, of beauty in the natural world and our connection to it, and about our inability to comprehend the enormity and beauty of the entire wonderful universe.

Have a good week, everyone!

Etymology

Her body by the fire
Mimicked the light-conferring midnights
Of philosophy.
Suppose they are dead now.
Isn't "dead now" an odd expression?
The sound of the owls outside
And the wind soughing in the trees
Catches in their ears, is sent out
In scouting parties of sensation down their spines.
If you say it became language or it was nothing,
Who touched whom?
In what hurtle of starlight?
Poor language, poor theory
Of language. The shards of skull
In the Egyptian museum looked like maps of the wind-eroded
Canyon labyrinths from which,
Standing on the verge
In the yellow of a dwindling fall, you hear
Echo and re-echo the cries of terns
Fishing the worked silver of a rapids.
And what to say of her wetness? The Anglo-Saxons
Had a name for it. They called it silm.
They were navigators. It was also
Their word for the look of moonlight on the sea.

Surviving Suicide and Other Destructive Behaviors

Although I have committed to blogging on Mondays, I have been trying to write this post since Wednesday of last week. I say ‘trying’ because that is exactly what I’ve been doing; I have tried to articulate something that I’ve never discussed at length with anyone and it’s been an extremely challenging and emotional experience. It’s a subject that three people in my life know about and even they don’t know all of the details…

Did you know that Utah is ranked ninth in the United States for suicides and that suicide is the second leading cause of death (after car accidents) in the state? Beyond these staggering statistics, there has been an increase in teen suicides in Utah over the last several weeks and, last week alone, there were two students from Clearfield High School who killed themselves three days apart.

The young men who took their lives in Clearfield were described as “great kids” who “played in the band and were on the soccer and football teams.” These young men were active at their school and within their community. They had friends and families who loved and cared for them and now they are gone.

The descriptions of the young men who killed themselves closely mimic shadows from my past. I too did music and played sports and had friends and family that loved me. The main difference between me and these two young men, though, is that I failed where they succeeded.

I failed because I am still alive and they are not; I am a suicide survivor.

I first began thinking about killing myself as a child in elementary school and by the time I was in junior high I fantasized about it almost every night as I’d fall asleep. I would justify my behavior as a means to an end. If I were to kill myself, the bullies who tormented me would feel sorry. They would know it was their fault and they would feel badly.

By the time I was in high school my desires to end my life did not change but my reasoning did. Without going into too much detail, I felt as though I was never going to be enough (hmmmm. I wonder what I could possibly dealing with...), I was never going to be the student, the athlete, the musician, the faithful churchgoer, the son, etc., that I thought I needed to be. To combat these feelings of inadequacy I would find even more ways to get involved; if I wasn’t good enough, I was going to keep adding to my personal resume to prove to myself and everyone else that I had value.

I kept adding more and more to my life until I eventually broke. I had maxed myself out and I didn’t have the emotional strength to go any further. I didn’t believe I was worthwhile and, as a result, I didn’t believe anyone else thought I was worth anything either. So, one afternoon, as I was babysitting my sisters, I decided I could no longer deal with the pain, guilt, and overwhelming sorrow I was constantly feeling.

I took my sisters to rent a movie from the local Blockbuster and came home, made them dinner, and started their movie. Once I knew they were settled and completely distracted, I pulled my car into the empty garage, closed the door, and started the ignition. As I got out the car, I sat down on the cold cement with my back against the door and I stared absentmindedly at the exhaust pipe as it slowly puffed its toxic gases in my face. Sitting there, taking in deep breaths of the fumes, I began to weep quietly.

I don’t know how much time had passed but I remember I was starting to simultaneously feel light-headed and at the same time developing an intense headache. I knew I was getting close and I started to weep even more. I remember lying down on the garage floor and encouraging my mind to let go and fall asleep when, all of a sudden, I had an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over me.

Immediately I had images of my young sisters (10 and four) opening the kitchen door to find me dead. Then I thought about the possibility of the poisonous gasses leeching into the house and possibly killing them before my parents could come home and shut the car off. My parents had already lost one child, and I was trying to take one more from them. What if I ended up taking all three of us that were left? The risk was too great so I slowly picked myself up and haphazardly walked towards the garage door opener and opened the garage. Eventually I made my way to the driver’s side of the car and turned it off too and made my way inside.

In the ten years since that first attempt I have had many other self-destructive moments. As a teenager I ran jagged glass across my wrists. As missionary I would wake up in the middle of the night and twirl an Exacto Knife between my fingers with my arms propped over the kitchen sink. At college I drove my car to the top of cliffs and ravines and undid my seat belt and sat with my foot on the brake. And, as recently as last week, I went through my medicine cabinet to see if I had any pills I could overdose on (the list goes on and on).

You see, if I’m truly honest, not a day goes by that I don’t think about death and wish it would all end. It would really make everything easier – for me at least. But, I’m still here, writing this post. For whatever reason, I have overcome these thoughts and feelings each and every time.

Now, I am not writing this post to throw myself a pity party and fish for compliments or consolation. I am sharing these experiences to help raise awareness. I hope that if you read this piece, you will take the time to reach out and share kindness in place of hate, love instead of intolerance, and compassion rather than indifference.

The faces of suicide are vast and varied and you may never know who is struggling to survive each and every day. And every time you decide to go on a tirade about how selfish or narrow-minded a person must be to consider taking their own life, remind yourself that you don’t know their feelings, emotions, or challenges, and hearing ignorant comments like these are only making it harder on the person struggling and fighting to stay alive and keep going.

To conclude, I want to share a song from Glee. I know, I know, I really don’t like the show but I’m generally very fond of the music. Anyway, the last episode of the first half of this past season deals with teen suicide fairly well and one of the songs they sing is truly appropriate for this post. I am alive today and stronger than I have ever been because of the experiences I have had – both the good and the bad. I hope you take the opportunity today to realize the strength you have inside of you and remember all that you have to offer the world (even if it’s just a smile).

All my love,

MJ

Where Do I Have To Go To Find A Honey With Lil Soul

You ever wonder what you are doing with your life? I am. Right now.

I went and saw the Shrink this morning. Love that guy. He’s helping me so much. Today we talked about how I almost went through with my thoughts last Saturday. Let me tell you this, it was freaking terrifying. I thought I was going to lose my mind and take my life. But I didn’t. The next day I finally broke down and admitted that I needed help… a lot of it. Called a friend, started talking to my roommate again, told my mother. People had different reactions. One friend told me to hop on a plane and come back to Portland. Another told me to talk to God. My mother was pretty upset. But I finally admitted that there was something wrong and it made me realize that there wasn’t something wrong with me, there was something wrong with my brain. I kept being ashamed for having these thoughts which in turn added to the thoughts. But now I’m just like whatever, let’s get help. It’s nice. I feel like I’m finally in control of my situation.

But today he asked what I wanted to do with my life. The generic answer is finish BYU, go to PSU and get my graduate and finish off my days in Portland helping addicts. But then I told him what I really wanted. I want to runaway to a beach in Italy, and work at little family restaurant and just live this simple life without my demons from my past following me. And it occurred to me that I could have that. I could finish my undergrad work and just leave the US. Why not?

So challenge of the week. What do you really want to do with your life? And if you’re not doing it, well why not?

Song Of The Week:

Tokyo- Imagine Dragons

A friend played this in his car the other day and I kinda fell in love (with the song, not him). It’s not somewhere in Italy but it still makes me want to get up and dance. So awesome!

And BTW I love you guys! I’m really happy I’m a part of this blog and have a place to talk about this stuff.

Things Left Unsaid

I’ve been thinking a lot about my cousin’s death. She committed suicide last July. We were really close growing up but when I moved to Utah I just kind of put her (and the rest of my family and friends) in a box labeled Oregon and forgot about her. I remember the week she died I was thinking about calling her and I never did. I remember that way back when I was in high school I really wanted to talk to her about some boy drama I was having and I never did. And then when I was coming out I wanted to tell someone in my family and almost called her up but then remembered she was gone.

I don’t know why my cousin took her life. I think about her everyday and can’t wait for the chance to see her again and tell her I still love her even if I don’t understand. When my therapist asked me if I had suicidal thoughts last week I told her it didn’t matter either way, I couldn’t do that to my family. I couldn’t leave people behind questioning what went wrong. I don’t blame my cousin. Her life is her decision. But I wish she would have called me and I wish I would have called her.

I wish I wasn’t left here thinking I could have saved her if I only I would have picked up the phone.

I wish there weren’t so many things left unsaid.

Things Left Unsaid- Disciple

If I Die Young- The Band Perry