Rerun:On Suicidal Ideation

Therese Bouchard of Beyond Blue had a gem earlier this month I must have missed.  It was on Suicidal Ideation.

I think I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation. Right now I have my ibook on my lap, a razor next to me. I want to pick it up, go into the bathtub and play with it. What is stopping me from that? I am writing this, fast, furiously, hoping among hope I can stay busy until the feeling passes and I can put the blade away without any cuts or blood to my person. But oh! It would be so tempting to just pick it up, go into the bath tub, strip down to my underwear, crawl into the tub, run a little hot water so that one delicious vein in my wrist will show, and cut deep.

But what stops me is what if I screw up, and only destroy a tendon. Not loose enough blood to sanguinate?  That is one. But if I mess up and can never use my hands again? I gotta fight it.

And in fighting it, fighting this feeling, I could take Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali down with one hand tied behind my back. I   have been doing this most of my life, since my first attempt at four.

I have learned various tricks to stop it when it hits, write. Write as if your heart is breaking and just keep writing. Don't proof read, just write/type as fast as you can, and when you are in a better frame of mind, proof read, or destroy the manuscript.

Another trick I have learned is to take an ice cold bath. Don't know why but it works. Another trick is to smoke- this probably won't work for everyone but for some reason after a few cigarettes, I feel stable. It must be the nicotine.

Sometimes the feeling comes and goes quickly, in minutes. Sometimes it goes on for days and weeks like it did when I wrote this to Liz Spikol, who was kind enough to print it.  Three weeks ago my mother phoned me and I was crying, begging her to let me come over and pick up the rifle my dad has. That is a rifle for game, not people. It doesn't even have ammo, and hasn't been used in over 40 years. I got over that by staying in the apartment, until it passed.   I don't drive. I try to identify what triggers, if any made me get Existential and want to x myself out of existence.

It's not that I want to die. I  want to stop living. I want the pain- whether it would be real or imaginary, to stop. What is painful to me, may not, as triggers and thoughts go, be the same for another. For me, it's broken dreams. The realization I peaked at 23, and the life I wanted never would happen.Wishing when i was 22 and had a chance to have my novel published, I choked.  From that point on, my writing and my career dreams went down the toilet.  Other things, the fact I am not a mother, that ranks pretty high. Seeing couples being happy and being in love, makes me want to stab myself in the heart and rip it out like an auto-sacrifice of my own in a mock  Aztec fashion. Only I would continue to live, without the heart.  It's not a big deal because I think honestly I am living that way now.

I still feel like I want to go into that good night, not sure if I will hit the publish button or delete. Maybe should try to sleep a bit? Lie down and arrange the pandas in the bed with me. With a bit of luck, the striped one will finish her nocturnal rounds and snuggle. She is my saving grace, my saviour. She leans up near me so close I can hear her breathe, and feel the fur against my naked leg. And it soothes me.

I know I will pray as I do most every evening of my life to not wake up in them morning. To learn if you dream you are falling and you really hit bottom and don't wake up. If a heart attack really hurts. And I have trepidation because I am such a loner and introvert it could be days if not a whole week before they find me. So what ever it is, will be. There are some things I can change, and other things I cannot and I need the courage to know the difference.  And dying, no matter how tempting it seems, isn't. Not now. Not ever.

On Suicidal Ideation

Therese Bouchard of Beyond Blue had a gem earlier this month I must have missed.  It was on Suicidal Ideation.

I think I am the Queen of Suicidal Ideation. Right now I have my ibook on my lap, a razor next to me. I want to pick it up, go into the bathtub and play with it. What is stopping me from that? I am writing this, fast, furiously, hoping among hope I can stay busy until the feeling passes and I can put the blade away without any cuts or blood to my person. But oh! It would be so tempting to just pick it up, go into the bath tub, strip down to my underwear, crawl into the tub, run a little hot water so that one delicious vein in my wrist will show, and cut deep.

But what stops me is what if I screw up, and only destroy a tendon. Not loose enough blood to sanguinate?  That is one. But if I mess up and can never use my hands again? I gotta fight it.


And in fighting it, fighting this feeling, I could take Mike Tyson and Muhammad Ali down with one hand tied behind my back. I   have been doing this most of my life, since my first attempt at four.

I have learned various tricks to stop it when it hits, write. Write as if your heart is breaking and just keep writing. Don't proof read, just write/type as fast as you can, and when you are in a better frame of mind, proof read, or destroy the manuscript.

Another trick I have learned is to take an ice cold bath. Don't know why but it works. Another trick is to smoke- this probably won't work for everyone but for some reason after a few cigarettes, I feel stable. It must be the nicotine.


Sometimes the feeling comes and goes quickly, in minutes. Sometimes it goes on for days and weeks like it did when I wrote this to Liz Spikol, who was kind enough to print it.  Three weeks ago my mother phoned me and I was crying, begging her to let me come over and pick up the rifle my dad has. That is a rifle for game, not people. It doesn't even have ammo, and hasn't been used in over 40 years. I got over that by staying in the apartment, until it passed.   I don't drive. I try to identify what triggers, if any made me get Existential and want to x myself out of existence.

It's not that I want to die. I  want to stop living. I want the pain- whether it would be real or imaginary, to stop. What is painful to me, may not, as triggers and thoughts go, be the same for another. For me, it's broken dreams. The realization I peaked at 23, and the life I wanted never would happen.Wishing when i was 22 and had a chance to have my novel published, I choked.  From that point on, my writing and my career dreams went down the toilet.  Other things, the fact I am not a mother, that ranks pretty high. Seeing couples being happy and being in love, makes me want to stab myself in the heart and rip it out like an auto-sacrifice of my own in a mock  Aztec fashion. Only I would continue to live, without the heart.  It's not a big deal because I think honestly I am living that way now.


I still feel like I want to go into that good night, not sure if I will hit the publish button or delete. Maybe should try to sleep a bit? Lie down and arrange the pandas in the bed with me. With a bit of luck, the striped one will finish her nocturnal rounds and snuggle. She is my saving grace, my saviour. She leans up near me so close I can hear her breathe, and feel the fur against my naked leg. And it soothes me.

I know I will pray as I do most every evening of my life to not wake up in them morning. To learn if you dream you are falling and you really hit bottom and don't wake up. If a heart attack really hurts. And I have trepidation because I am such a loner and introvert it could be days if not a whole week before they find me. So what ever it is, will be. There are some things I can change, and other things I cannot and I need the courage to know the difference.  And dying, no matter how tempting it seems, isn't. Not now. Not ever.

Send good thoughts for Liz Spikol

Last night Liz Spikol sent out a curious email, saying that her email address at Philadelphia Weekly was no longer working and gave out a new, generic address.

This morning, Philip Dawdy, at Furious Seasons, is reporting that

"I suspect readers of The Trouble With Spikol are just now realizing that Liz Spikol is no longer at Philadelphia Weekly and that her well-read blog is now pretty much shuttered, since it's technically owned by the paper. She told me by email last night that she's feeling rather glum, but intends to get back to blogging...just not right away. So stay tuned."

Virginia Tech Metal Health Records

Leave it to Liz Spikol, to find this gem. Liz writes

Coming soon to a headline near you: The mental health records of Virginia Tech Seung-Hui Cho, who killed 32 people before turning the gun on himself. (That number still stuns me.) Apparently, a worker at the counseling center had taken the records home — I’m guessing to protect someone. And for whatever reason, they’ve just been located now by lawyers working on a civil lawsuit against the university.

Then Liz quotes the Associated Press Story-

Kaine said the records would be released as soon as possible. Lawyers in a civil lawsuit found the records in the possession of a former worker at the counseling center.

The governor said taking confidential records from the counseling center was illegal and state police were investigating how the records disappeared.

He said officials first would ask the administrator of Cho’s estate to release the files. A second option was to subpoena the records.

He also said he was not happy that the criminal investigation of the shootings failed to uncover the files.

While a large part of the shooting investigation focused on how university officials and law enforcement responded following the first reports of shootings in a Virginia Tech dormitory, family members of the victims have also inquired about how the troubled Cho slipped through the cracks at university counseling.

In April, on the second anniversary of the shootings, families of two slain students sued the state, the school and its counseling center, several top university officials and a local mental health agency, claiming gross negligence in the chain of events that allowed Cho to commit his killing spree.

The lawsuits also claim a local health center where Cho had gone to say he felt suicidal did not adequately treat or monitor him. The status of the lawsuit was not immediately known.

Holly Sherman, whose daughter Leslie was among those killed, said in November that she was less concerned with continued analysis of how university officials responded to the massacre and more interested in learning about Cho’s mental treatment.

Mike White, whose daughter Nicole was killed, said in November he was concerned about why Cho’s mental records went missing.

Andrew Goddard, whose son Colin was shot four times but survived, said there was more work to be done on mental health services. Goddard was appointed last year to the state board of Mental Health, Mental Retardation and Substance Abuse Services.

The sad thing about this tragedy is several people, playing Monday Morning Quarterback realized Cho was a ticking time bomb. First of all, how he was able to purchase a gun is way beyond me, but also his family and his teachers should have put the red flags together before any destruction was done. But then, it's always easy being a Monday Morning Quarterback.

Liz Spikol wants to know- do you want to be on TV?

Article is here:



Are you going off one of your meds? Would you like to do a video diary of the withdrawal process for a major TV show? I’m looking for a person to help someone out, and it seems like it could be a good opportunity. Not exploitative, but interesting. Contact me personally if you:

1. are planning to go off med(s)
2. are interested in alternative methods for coping with illness, such as exercise and holistic interventions
3. are willing to share your story of withdrawal and coping — even if it’s awful and embarrassing — with the American public

Email me at lspikol@philadelphiaweekly.com


It sounds interesting if applicable to anyone reading this....

Best Cute Fix in the Universe

This has to be the best cute fix in the universe. Other than puppies and babies, what else is cuter? KITTENS!

Trust Liz Spikol, to come up with the mother of all cute fixes= A Kitten Cam.






Ah Liz. You might have a girl crush on Michelle Obama, but I sure have a girl crush on you.

Philip Dawdy-Hero Against Zyprexa

Will someone give Philip Dawdy a Pulitzer?

For the last few years, Philip has been writing tirelessly about Zyprexa on his blog Furious Seasons. He was one of the first, if not the first to unlock the Zyprexa documents. Award winning writer David Dobbs is the first (and lets hope not the last) to notice all that loyal readers of Furious Seasons know- that Philip is a tireless reporter and news breaker , working for little or no money and hopefully this will be the start of something good for this talented writer.

The story by David Dobbs is here. Liz Spikol has her own take on this here , and Bob Fiddaman here.


Maybe someone reading these pieces will see what a gem Dawdy is and nominate him for a blogging Pulitzer, which he so deserves.

Very Very Sick

Well I got my annual Winter Cold.

I am miserable. Got 102 degree temp, sore throat, cannot swallow. My nose is running and congested at the same time and I lost my voice.

Will be back tomorrow.

take care everyone.

Meanwhile- everyone drop off by Liz's blog and congratulate her on winning a Golden Globe yesterday.

Oh wait- you mean Liz and Tina Fey are two different people?

Truly Amazing

I have had more hits in the last three days then I have in the history of this blog since I started it in October 07.

There can be only one reason- I have had three shout outs from three wonderful bloggers this week, Philip Dawdy, Liz Spikol, and Therese Bouchard. 

Since I only know one of them in real life-  I want them to know, even though I cannot buy them a beer in real life- these buds are for them. Pretend they are ice cold brewskis. Sit back and enjoy. And thank you.