I have a therapist and I have seen a total of three psychiatrists but was only evaluated? by two of them.
A few years ago I was what I always assumed was depressed and I was constantly skipping school to the point where I was lucky if I made it more than a day or two a week. I was miserable and terribly guilty for burdening my dad with making up all these excuses for my absence when he didn't even know the reason himself. Honestly I'm not sure I did either. All I knew is that I wasn't happy and I felt like I wanted to die, but I was hesitant. I tried to overdose two but never did it as seriously as I could've done. I held back because I was scared and wasn't ready. After a couple months of slowly getting to this point I send him a text telling him that I'm miserable, suicidal and depressed and we go to a psychiatrist. We both at the time refused a therapist as we didn't think it was right for me due to my childhood which left me with two options; Antidepressants, or online schooling.
At the time I was only twelve so we were both hesitant on the medication with me being so young and neither of us knowing how bad my depression even was so we decided to go ahead with home schooling. I saw a few therapists to briefly explain my situation which didn't go very well as I was so nervous but it was enough for them to refer me to the first psychiatrist to see whether or not I was suitable for online schooling. We were there all of about 20 minutes and she never gave me a diagnoses, only said that she agreed that it was the best option. The entire experience was very vague and I never knew if anything was wrong with me if so, what. Never got a follow up or any other help, that was it.
It took a year and a half for the school to get me registered (they lost my file), I'm now 16 and I still haven't been able to bring myself to start school again. About 8 months ago I decided to get help because I felt like things weren't still right and was expecting medication, instead I got a therapist. At first she just let me vent to her and get to know me, then I saw a psychiatrist and was kind of vaguely told I had social anxiety but not much else. She prescribed me antidepressants to help and said I should start CBT with my therapist. I always assumed I had depression still and mentioned it to the therapist and the psych knew but never really said much about it so I figured I was wrong but was unsure.
A few months before I got help I started getting suicidal again but this time was different, at first I thought it was the same as before but as time went on I started to realize that it wasn't at all. Before I felt a lot more towards death, most of all I felt scared, uncertain and guilty for even considering it. Now I feel nothing, if it weren't for love I have for my cat I'd probably be dead already. Before I would always think of what would happen if I were to commit suicide, I would always imagine being in the hospital afterwards and people wanting to see me and often me not wanting to see them. Now I don't -and cant- imagine what would happen if I did, because I know that I would succeed if I tried again and that doesn't scare me nearly as much as it should.
I'm honestly not sure how to feel, I've moved out of town so I've had to transfer to a new therapist who I've only met once and am not at all comfortable with. I was on 5mg of escitalopram and she was surprised on how low it was and asked for it to be upped to 10mg and the psychiatrist agreed. I've noticed good changes in my moods so I'm happy with it.
But within the last few days in particular I've been rather suicidal, much more than usual and I'm not sure what to do about it, it's not super bad and I probably wouldn't act on it. Probably. I find a lot more pros then cons to it especially when it comes to the idea of school as the idea of having to start it again next year stresses me out beyond belief and dropping out won't do any good because it'll be worse once I have to get a job.
Whenever I'm pretty suicidal I cut along my wrist on a part where my vein rests ontop of my tendon as is a bit more prominent because of it. I don't really expect to kill myself when I do it, and have never gone deep enough to get the vein although I always get somewhat close. Last night was no different, or at least it would've been. I decided to dig to it, I wanted to see what'd happen, how much it'd bleed, how hard it really was. And I did in the end, I only nicked it as I was aware that right underneath it was my tendon but now I have this odd sense of contentment. Like I know that at any time I could slice my arm open and bleed out and I could just. Die.
And it's been on my mind constantly since, I so badly want to do it but for what reason? I couldn't tell you if I wanted to. I have no idea, I'm not stressed right now, I'm actually the happiest I've ever been but it doesn't make a difference.And I have no idea what to do about it or why I'm like this all of a sudden.