Bully

I have been bullied.
There is some one in my life who torments me almost constantly; the harsh hurtful words of this person ring in my ears endlessly. When ever I express any amount of weakness or struggle I find myself the recipient of hate; a hate so violent and intrusive that I have learned to grow around it. This hate, and the words it spreads, have become such a normal part of my life that they have grown roots into my core. I believe it, the things this bully tells me. I am too sensitive, I am weak, I am a cry baby, I am ugly and un-loveable, I don't deserve help, I made myself this way, I'm fat, nothing looks good on me, I am helpless, I can't do anything right, my kids deserve better than me, I bring everyone down...this is just the beginning of the list of things I hear. The hardest part is I can't seem to find a way out. The tormenting never stops. I can't even try to talk about this issue without fear of what I'll hear.

I am sure that if you are reading this you are getting concerned for my wellbeing; some days I too fear for myself. The problem is, I can't escape this bully because the bully is me. I am my worst tormenter, I have myself captive and no matter how hard I fight it I can't seem to get away,
because everywhere I go . . . there I am.

Some things you just can't know

I read a book recently called "So B. It" by Sara Weeks and there is this great quote that kind of sums up how I've been feeling lately about the ache to "know" something.

"If truth was a crayon and it was up to me to put a wrapper around it and name its color, I know just what I would call it - dinosaur skin. I used to think with out really thinking that I knew what color that was. But that was long ago, before I knew what I know now about both dinosaur skin and the truth.

"The fact is that you can't tell squat about the color of an animal just from looking at it's bones, so nobody knows for sure what color dinosaurs really were. For years I looked at pictures of them, trusting that whoever was in charge of coloring them in was doing it based on scientific fact, but the truth is they were only guessing...

"Another thing I found out right about that same time is that not knowing something doesn't mean you're stupid. All it means is that there's still room left to wonder. For instance about dinosaurs - were they the same color as the sky..? Or were they maybe the same shade of brown as the dust..?

"I'd be lying if I said that given a choice, I wouldn't rather know than not know. But there are some things in life you can just know for no good reason other than you do, and then there are other things that no matter how badly you want to know them, you just can't.

"The truth is, whether you know something or not doesn't change what was. If dinosaurs were blue, they were blue; if they were brown, they were brown whether anybody ever knows it for a fact or not."


This really resonates with me. I really like the idea that whether you know something or not doesn't change what actually is.
Like if there is a god out there, my believing or not believing doesn't change what is.
Somehow I find it comforting to realize that there really are some things that no matter how hard I want to know, I can't ever really be sure. Like dinosaur skin, or god, or what my life would be like today if something had been different when I was a child. Of course I still wonder and day dream about these things...but some how the ache to "know" has been a bit tempered with this realization.

there are some things you just can't know.

Does "checking-in" work?

I just read this article:
[http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/promoting-hope-preventing-suicide/201210/checking-in-suicide-prevention]

And I want to answer this question:
"Has checking in made a difference for you? What do you think is the mechanism at work in its effectiveness? Do you think it can contribute to suicide prevention?"


For me "checking-in" has very literally saved my life on many occasions. I think that knowing that someone would take time from their life to call me and see how I am helps me feel like they care. It makes me feel like I am needed and that people would not just notice that I was gone, but they would miss me.


In times of crisis having someone who was expecting me to call every few hours kept me alive. Knowing that if they didn't hear from me then they would know something had happened; Or that I only needed to make it through the next hour to the next call. . .
it kept me alive long enough for the suicidal thoughts to subside.
I absolutely believe that checking-in can have a big contribution to suicide prevention. It has for me.


In the article she mentions the Dean of Students Office at Boston University (BU) calling all the freshman students on campus to "see how they’re doing"
She says that; "On one hand, it’s just a phone call from someone you don’t even know. On the other, it could make a big difference for a student having a difficult time making the adjustment"
I think a call can be just that, "a big difference [when] having a difficult time, or feeling isolated" and feeling that "someone—anyone—cared enough to call."

My brain has no heart. My heart has no brain.

Why is it so hard to manage the needs of the heart with out compromising what I need to say?

I tend to stay quiet and keep my thoughts to myself when I feel that what I might say could hurt someone's feelings, but it doesn't do much good for my own needs to always put other people's potential feelings before mine.

maybe I'll allow myself to be considered "heartless" sometimes . . .

Blogging for Suicide Prevention

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day, and this year's theme is “Stigma: A Major Barrier for Suicide Prevention.” I have been thinking about this for about a while and really wanting to take some time to write out my thoughts and share them in a semi-public way. I feel like suicide and self-destructive behaviors are very important things to be able to talk about, and it can be so incredibly hard to speak out. And I know that some days it can feel like hiding struggles and staying quiet are the only choice. I want to be honest and talk about hard things, but some of the consequences that come with speaking are unbearable.

People don't look at someone with mental disorders the same way they would if they had some other medical issue; like a heart condition, cancer, or diabetes. The reaction I see when people speak of mental illnesses seems to be fear. Fear for their safety? Fear for others? Fear of the unknown?

There is a lot of ignorance in the world . . .
And that is where stigma is the strongest, in ignorance.

It is easy to judge something you do not know, something you do not understand. Not many people realize that someone dies by suicide every 40 seconds. Not many people feel safe talking about suicide; and the worst part is, not many people feel that they can ask for help.

I have come very close to committing suicide more times than I'd like to admit. There have been periods of my life where everyday was darkened by the ever present cloud of suicidal thinking. The first time that I asked for help was a year ago, on September 11th, 2012. This last year that I have survived has been the most difficult and life changing year of my life.

We have to break the silence, I have to break the silence . . .
I want to help make my world a place that we feel safe to talk about hard things. This is me breaking the silence. I want to be a safe place.

I know that suicide prevention is possible, I know that it is possible to live through suicidal thoughts and self destructive patterns. I have, I do, and I'm sure I will again.

Today I am alive. I have survived.


Crystalinda Buebe
09-10-2013




USC’s MSW Programs Blog Day.

Day 64

Feeling a little heart broken, this quote is to all the friends that stopped talking to me when I needed friends the most. [Thank you to the few who stayed]