Let’s Chat About Suicidal Ideations

August 2021

by Emerson Frost

Hi humans.

So it seems like everything on my blog comes with a trigger warning. I am currently working through some really deep inner work and this blog and my podcast were birthed out of my abuse recovery. The topics that create trigger warnings (my current inner work) revolve around suicidal ideations and childhood sexual abuse. The abuse created an insane amount of depression and anxiety, which led to suicidal ideations and attempts. My goal is to continue to heal my Self. I am here to heal myself, and I’m brave enough to share it out loud for anyone else who might want to jump into the lifeboat called Hope.

I’m here. I understand. I tried three times: when I was 11, when I was 19, and when I was 41. The voice of darkness was so loud, my depression was in complete control. Have you ever felt like the pain was so great that it wasn’t worth sticking around for the “good stuff”? You are not alone anymore, you never were. Your depression, your heaviness, your lack of energy, your desire for life to end, your lack of ability to thrive – it’s not you, it’s beyond you. It’s something attached to you sucking the life out of you before you can even open your eyes in the morning. And you probably blame yourself, like I did. Shame, self-hate, feeling guilty for even being alive – I am super familiar with all of these feelings. Come with me on my journey from self-hate to self-compassion. I would love a buddy to ride along with me. I don’t want to do this alone, so thank you for being here. See? We haven’t even met in person perhaps, and yet you’re bringing joy to my life. Knowing that I’m not alone has been key for me, so hopefully now you know you’re also not alone. My husband has been trying to tell me our whole lives how spectacular he sees me as.

The life that I have today is safe and loving. I am safe and loved. By everyone but myself. It turns out, my inner critic has been viscously freely running the show for literally EVER. And I thought that was my true voice. I’m only just now glimpsing my true voice again and I like her! I like myself. I don’t think I’ve ever said that out loud before. If I don’t like myself, how can I expect anyone else to? So even when I’m seeking external validation, it doesn’t feel earned. There’s a fancy term, imposter syndrome. Oh man. There seems to be a fancy term for all of my behaviors up until now. Now, the term for my behavior might be more along the lines of “stable, healing, self-accepting.” Those are my goals anyway.

Then my judgy inner critic, I’ll call her Judgy Emerson, wants to chime in and she snidely remarks something like “those goals are so dumb. I can’t believe how far behind everyone else your age you are, Emerson.” But let me tell you a secret about Judgy Emerson.

She’s just like the wizard of Oz. An illusion hiding behind a curtain.

I pulled the curtain back and found a crying little girl whose pain came out as Judgy Emerson. So, I’ve recently been focusing on discovering how to soothe this crying little girl, my inner wounded child. Did you just roll your eyes? I did for a long time when someone would bring up inner child healing. It made so sense to me, so I rolled my eyes. I didn’t need anything that didn’t make sense coming at my carefully created self-narrative. My house of cards was pretty convincing. So, now when Judgy Emerson tries to steal compliments from me, I just remember to pull back the curtain and ask the little girl what she needs. Now remember, this is all brand new to me and I still spend plenty of time wishing I was dead.

I’d been run by depression and anxiety all of my life. Only I didn’t know that, because I just assumed everyone felt the same as me. I had no idea how powerful my mind is. I had no idea that my norm, was only MY norm – not the norm for most people. I just assumed everyone was unhappy, so what I felt was what they felt. I did not realize that I had an extra struggle that most people don’t – medical depression.

I just thought I was weak. I thought I wasn’t trying hard enough. I felt like the depression was me failing to get it right. Why couldn’t I get the same results as other people I compared myself to? Why couldn’t I succeed, like those around me? Why couldn’t I get out of my own way? Because I needed assistance. So I spoke up. Even with people listening to me and supporting me, my medical needs were not quite met yet.

Why was it so hard to get out bed? Why did I cry or feel the need to cry all the time? Why did I have to fight and argue at work? Why was everything such a big deal to me, but not to others? Why was I constantly offended and yelling? Why couldn’t I just control myself? Why couldn’t I just let myself be happy? Why was it me against the whole world? Because of the sneaky depression.

The inner darkness was literally heavy physically.

The emptiness was a vacuum.

The self-hate was the only voice.

You can utilize 741741 and suggest it to anyone who is speaking about dying.

When someone talks about not wanting to live, yes they are seeking attention. It is a call for help. They are at the point where the inner thoughts are so loud they become spoken out loud, This is a big warning to seek help.

Call the local domestic violence shelter. Make an appointment with a therapist. Fight your way from survivor to surthrivor, you are worth it! I was ready to accept help at the age of 41. I was going to use radical acceptance to swallow my newest diagnoses, cPTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder (D.I.D.). My childhood abuse had left me with a fragmented memory and a fragmented personality. And now I was responsible for healing myself. Oh the bitterness and anger were real. And they were on Team Suicide.

It absolutely was not fair that I was trainwrecked as a child. But now I’m an adult and I need to function in the world without the mantra “I don’t want to live,” on repeat. So in the hospital after my third suicide attempt, after my D.I.D. revealed itself I accepted the help. I went to the group meetings. I did the follow up group counseling three days a week. I took my meds. I told the doctor which meds did and didn’t work. I went to work and did my best. I hugged my kids and cooked them dinner, as best as I could. I worked my way through my trauma with a skilled therapist. And the darkness began to lift. The mantra “I don’t want to live” shifted to “I like living.” Did I mention that I take my meds? There is minimal room for denial and pride, there is maximum room for radical acceptance. I accept without judgement that medication makes me function at a level I never knew before.

What works to help minimize the negative feelings? Medication, therapy, journaling, meditation, going for a walk or some other form of movement. (There is a saying, “Move a muscle, change a thought.”) Those are some of the positive coping skills that I have personally used. But in those moments of despair we may need help redirecting ourselves. What help is available? For one, the Crisis Text Line 74171. Another resource is free therapy: most local sexual assault crisis centers receive grant funds that cover free therapy for sexual assault victims. In my state there is government money available to pay for counseling. It’s called VOCA, Victims of Crimes Act. If you contact your local human services or behavioral health services business they can probably help you get started on a path to therapy.

If you are out of hope today, please feel free to take some of mine; I’ve learned how to keep my hope alive and to always have enough. If you don’t believe you can heal after the trainwreck you’ve had hit you, let me believe for you. You are not alone. Reach out. Surrender and let pieces of it go. Bit by bit it becomes a lighter load. I promise you have the strength to face your demons and to see them for the empty shadows they are. You can whisper or you can scream it but just say it, “help.” And remember the Crisis Text Line may be a good place to start. It was for me.

Best wishes,

Em