Not Meant To Be Here

****Warning: Talks about suicide attempts, please do not read further if this is something that will cause you distress.  Click “more” if you wish to read this post.****

In the past year, I’ve made three suicide attempts.  One in June.  One in September.  One last Wednesday.

Some people struggle to comprehend the mortality of human beings.  They live their life saying “my loved ones won’t die…I won’t have to go through that grief.  And I certainly won’t die.”  I struggle in the opposite manner.  I know that I am going to die one day.  It has to happen.  Cancer, heart failure, car crash, murder…something will get me.  I lack the skills to deal with that.  I don’t want my death to be out of my control.  That is a very difficult thing to have control over.  In fact, the only way I have found is to actually take my death into my own hands.  If I cause my own death, then I no longer have to fear it.

Suicide isn’t always linked to depression.  For example, I am not depressed.  Instead, I am excited about some of the potential ways I see my life going.  I look forwards to the future.  I don’t have the symptoms of depression…aside from the fact that I think my life is helpless and hopeless.  Helpless because I have felt this way about suicide since I was 12 (my first suicide attempt) and nothing has worked to change my opinion.  Hopeless because if nothing can change my opinion then I will eventually succeed in causing my own death.  So if I don’t have depression, why am I suicidal?  Fear.  I am terrified of this world that I live in.  Schizophrenia makes it worse by often turning my own greatest fears into my own personal reality.

I’ve mentioned before that stress makes my symptoms worse.  As I’ve also mentioned, the beginning of a semester causes me stress.  When more stress gets added during this vulnerable time…the worse I get.  This is evident by the fact that I’ve already attempted to kill myself again.  The stress right now is recognizing that this is my last semester.  Soon, I will no longer be a student.  I will be in that place where I should start working because that is what a college graduate does.  But I can’t work.  Schizophrenia doesn’t allow it.  Constantly being suicidal doesn’t allow it.  Fear that coworkers or customers are going to kill me doesn’t allow it.  So when I graduate, I will be stuck in limbo.  I’ll have little purpose.  Can you remember what else causes my symptoms to get worse?  A lack of structure and purpose.  I don’t think things are looking good.

Therapist B likes to talk about what I’m going to do when I graduate…despite the fact that I’ve told her numerous times that I don’t want to talk about it.  It causes stress and I don’t need more of that right now.  On Wednesday, we talked about what I am going to do when I graduate.  Specifically, where am I going to live?  I’m under the understanding that my parents built me this great apartment so that I could live in it.  My therapist seems to think that this isn’t in my best interest.  So we talked about it…or she talked about it with little input from me.  I didn’t even get to bring up the fact that I was struggling with stress already due to the semester.  That would have been the relevant topic.  Not hypotheticals or conversations that I’m not a part of.

So Wednesday night I started feeling actively suicidal.  (Most of the time I feel suicidal in a manner that in no way means I will be attempting any time soon.)  I sent a text message to my therapist telling her that I was feeling this way.  I knew it would be morning before she got it so I didn’t expect an immediate response.  I worked on trying to distract myself and work on my coping skills.  But the schizophrenia was kicking in.  Voices were telling me to kill myself.  “Just get it over with,” they said.  So I took the remainder of a bottle of Klonopin.  About 16mgs worth.  Then I went to bed.

At 7am Thursday morning, my therapist texts me to see if I am all right.  I don’t know if it was out of honesty or remnants of taking too much medicine but I confessed to having overdosed.  She asked me some questions about how much I took and such and then stops messaging me.  I promptly go right back to sleep.  Around 10am my front door flies open and my dad yells his way into my apartment.  “You can’t put your mother and me through this!” is what really sticks out from all the yelling he did.  He tells me the police and paramedics are on their way to take me to the hospital.  I get up, feeling much more alert now, and get dressed and etc.  First a police officer arrives.  He confirms how much medicine I took.  He asks me if I currently want to try killing myself again (no).  The paramedics then arrive and the officer leaves.  I tell the paramedics I’m not going with them.  I have classes in a few hours and I don’t intend to miss them.  They agree that I seem awake and alert and not dead so they also leave.  Well, first they assure my dad that I am fine and I didn’t take enough to cause anything more that a really nice nap.

I know why I attempted suicide this time.  I’m scared because a phase of my life is coming to an end and I can’t see what is going to replace it.  I’m stressed because Therapist B doesn’t want to stop talking about it when there are other matters that deserve more attention.  I’m impulsive when it comes to this type of thing.  When I get really, really suicidal…I either do some sort of self-harm or make a suicide attempt.  I’m trying to sabotage my graduation by making it so that I have to go to the hospital and work doesn’t get completed and then I don’t pass my classes and I’m stuck doing this all over again.  Then, in my realization that I am trying to get myself stuck in the hospital, I’m getting way ahead of my work and making sure that if I am hospitalized…I won’t have so much make-up work to do.

What do I really want though?  I want to be in a hospital that will really work on my issues rather than pop me out the second I state that I no longer plan to kill myself.  I don’t want to be so scared of the world that I feel my only option to avoid those fears is killing myself.  You can’t fix that in a four to five day hospital stay.  It just doesn’t happen.  And apparently, all the therapy I’ve received thus far hasn’t fixed it.

Maybe I’m just not meant to be here.  Maybe some critical part that all the mentally healthy got is missing in me.  The ability to cope with the world…that’s probably what I am missing.  How do you learn that?  I wish I knew.

Category: Schizophrenia
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One Response
  1. Scott says:

    Hello Katherine. My name is Scott and I’m a diagnosed schizophrenic since 2003 (I’m 40). I’ve just been poking around your blog (I came across it after a Google search for “schizophrenia reality checking”) and I must say I’m very impressed. Also sad for you since you’re going through such a difficult time right now. I tried to think of something to say to you that would make you want to live. You have it much worse than I do, psychosis-wise. I float in and out of delusions (no hallucinations) but am able to hold onto a job, thank God. One thing I want to say is I’m very impressed with your writing ability. Your prose is so clear, it’s wonderful. So many blogs – including my own – the writing is not nearly as crisp and clean as your writing. I DEFINITELY think you are a novelist in the making – DEFINITELY. It’s your writing – and to put together these crystal clear posts while you’re under such duress! It’s incredible.

    All I can say is I look forward to your first novel. And I’m not just saying that to buck you up in a difficult time. I looked for something honest I could say to you to try to keep you going and complimenting your writing is simply honest – it’s great. You really have a way with story-telling. You simply must go on and try to crank something out – the novels you have ideas for. I mean if you can write this well while you’re suicidal and psychotic and in stressing from school, my God I think you can crank out something exquisite if you’re under less duress or even if not.

    So that’s my humble advice to you – live to write your first novel. I’ll be the first one to buy it. Based on what I’ve read thus far you will get published for sure.

    Oh, and no, I’m not reading your mind (I get that delusion too, but I’m not having it right now).

    Hope you feel better.

    Take care,


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