For Chester.

If you know much about me at all, you'll know I am a suicide attempt survivor. And it BOTHERS me when I hear about someone committing suicide, whether or not I know them.

Today the world found out the Chester Bennington, lead vocalist for Linkin Park, was found dead from an apparent suicide.

I used to listen to A LOT of Linkin Park, and I still love them. Their album Meteora was released in 2003, back when I started to feel really really depressed and I could relate to a lot of the songs and lyrics. Powerful songs! People might scoff because it's so famous, but one of my favorite songs is "Numb", and I used to listen to it over and over because it's so GOOD!

I remember in the computer lab back in mid school, logging on to VH1.com (pre-Youtube AND most iPODs!) and listening to Linkin Park songs on headphones while doing keyboarding work. They were the first band I listened to that had a little bit of screaming in their vocals, and they opened me up to a WORLD of music I had never heard. I remember having Linkin Park t-shirts and feeling kind of badass wearing them.

In my head, I visualize depression and suicidal intent as this dark, sticky, greedy unstoppable mass that crawls and seeps and oozes and permeates and suffocates all the goodness in the world. It's dark because it bleeds all the light and color from a person's life. It's sticky because it's so powerful and hard to get out of, once you get in it. It sucks you in as deep as it can, and even if you get out, there will probably be a bit that clings to you for the rest of your days, reminding you. And it's greedy, because it desires and steals all the happiness and joy in your life, and it won't stop until it has succeeded, or even til it's stolen your life itself.

Well, you know what? I described depression as "unstoppable", but it actually isn't always. It is just so goddamn HARD to beat. But I beat it! I beat it because I asked for help. People helped me. Meds helped me. You cannot be afraid to ask! It doesn't make you weak or stupid.

And I know from experience that in that deep, deep sadness, it can be easy to forget how much you mean to other people. Sometimes it feels like you might be doing a favor to your loved ones. But take Chester as an example. He took his life and the whole world is hurting, most of them people who never even met him. So just think how much YOU mean to your loved ones.

Of course, I also know firsthand that when you hurt that incredibly bad, and you desire relief that much, that sometimes you don't care about your loved ones.

But PLEASE, take it from me, life gets so much better, if you can just hang in there and get help. 

Ask friends, ask family, ask a doctor, call 911 if you need to! We need to beat this AWFUL MONSTER, depression, once and for all! It needs to stop.

Sarah

60 MINUTES (plus!) TIL BEDTIME

It is BLOG NIGHT! And seeing that I have no interesting ideas to blog about, I will blog about what is on my mind.. getting ready for bed! A countdown of sorts.. my habitual behaviors! Fascinating stuff, I assure you.

60 minutes+:  Put Mose on his porch, because he cannot yet be trusted to be left unsupervised inside the house... I have lost too many valuable possesssions that way, not to mention the time he ate a huge pack of chocolate-chip cookies that gave me AWFUL stress for the following 36 hours. Shower, apply copious amounts of colored-hair-specific product, release Mose from his prison.
60 minutes: Take pills. I used to have a HUMONGOUS pill box that I filled weekly, but now I just count the pills out everyday. And I have lots of company! The spot behind my pill cubby and beside my microwave makes an ideal spot for Sheldon to spy. Check time.

57 minutes: After his oh-so-helpful hint, I make sure my cats' food dish is full of Friskies Indoor Delights. Between the three of them, I go through a lot of food. Check time.
56 minutes: If not all of my cats have shown up to eat, I automatically check the refrigerator. It's actually one of my worst OCD habits! I am what they call "a checker" and I have this irrational fear that one of my cats will somehow get stuck inside and freeze to death/suffocate, so multiple times a day I have to make sure. Even if I know it's impossible. Check! Check.
53 minutes: Speaking of checking, now's a great time to check the front door is locked! And the porch light is turned off.
50 minutes: "WHO WANTS A PILL AND A HOTDOG??" is what I call to Otis and Mose, and boy, do they know and like those words. Technically, only Otey gets a pill (arthritis) but they split a hot dog, and then I let them outside for a few. Check time.
46 minutes: Now I like to watch a little old, familiar TV, like episodes of "Frasier" and "Home Improvement". It's calming and puts me in a positive mood. Check time.
43 minutes: At this point,  I am typically bombarded with cat-attention, and if I'm not, I check the fridge.
42 minutes: No cats in fridge: success! Now I finish watching the episode of television, while drinking lots of water. Check time.
27 minutes: Oh, that Niles Crane! Turn off TV, head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Check time.
25 minutes: Head outside, mouth full of toothpaste, call for my pups.
23 minutes: Rinse last bit of toothpaste out, put Mosey to bed with a full bowl of water and a Milkbone! "Who's my good boy?!" Time?
20 minutes: Give Miss Tiss her Milkbone and say, "Let's go to bed!" So she stiffly walks into our bedroom and gets her front paws up on the mattress. She holds the pose, then looks over her shoulder at me, waiting. I hoist her bottom end onto the bed, where she turns in a few dozen circles. After she finally plops down, I like to lie beside her and stroke her ears. I kiss her nose and tell her how beautiful she is, and she agrees. What time is it?
13 minutes: I go ahead and plug in my cellphone to it's charger, and set that alarm, and then two separate clock alarms for the same time.
11 minutes: Time to check! Refrigerator, front porch light, front porch lock, TV's off, as are all unnecessary lights. Mose is secure on the back porch. How are we doing on time?
9 minutes: Use bathroom once more, turning all lights off behind me. One more fridge check.
5 minutes: Double check that all alarms are set correctly, scoot Otis off my side of the bed.
4 minutes: Turn on my oxygen, put my cannula on properly. Listen to the soothing humming.
2 minutes: Either open a book or work on my own project, for just a few minutes...!
Negative 26 minutes: Ooops!

BED TIME!! Maybe next week I'll have something more substantial to write about... ;)

Sarah