Saved
By a Cat
By
Shannon
How
My Pet Kept Me From Committing Suicide
In
1982, I was diagnosed as having a “problem.” I was twelve. At
that time there were no real medications, or much therapy, for
juveniles. I suffered with periodic depression until I reached
college and was able to get some therapy at the campus’s mental
health center. Right after college, I chose to get married—instead
of attending Graduate School for a master’s degree in
counseling—for the mere reason that someone asked me to. I had such
low self esteem that I figured I might not get another chance. BIG
mistake. Though the man was patient with my issues, he never fully
understood and simply flew quietly under the radar when I was at my
worst.
In
my thirties I began to experience extreme mood swings. I would go
from frustration to full outrage in twenty seconds. I would throw
things, scream, and once I tried to stab my husband in the throat
with a screwdriver during the process of hanging a ceiling fan.
When
I visited a psychiatrist and described the instances, I was
prescribed my first mood stabilizer. Later came an anti-depressant
before an anti-anxiety drug was added to the cocktail. I began
intensive therapy but was getting nowhere with my bouts of
depression. I began to take the anger and sadness out on myself.
I
would have irrational thoughts, such that if I cut myself I could
bleed out the pain, as if I were accidentally injured. Though for
most of my life I was unaware of the name for this illness, I had
been suffering from Dermatillomania, a disorder where someone can't
stop picking at their skin. I had always been a “picker,” as it
was a self-soothing mechanism I had developed early in life. I hated
the results, but was comfortable enough to do so. With all of these
things combined, I was finally diagnosed with borderline personality
disorder, which put everything else under that umbrella into
perspective, and subsequently changed both my medication and therapy
protocol.
When
I next became ill I was prescribed high doses of Prednisone. BIG
MISTAKE. It resulted in an obsession with death and eventually a
suicide plan. I was miserable in my marriage, at work, and had
recently lost a very special pet. I was simply in more pain than I
could ever imagine. More than anything, I wanted to end the pain and
kill the painful parts of my being. I had no clarity that efforts to
cease that would end all my future. I just did not see that they were
all intertwined. I had a complete nervous breakdown, went on a manic
spree, and then planned my suicide.
The
morning I was to complete my act, one of my cats intervened. As I
began to take the pills I had been stockpiling after doctor hopping
for weeks, she literally swatted at my hand. SMART CAT! It shook me
into a reality that made me realize how many joys I would be missing.
I called my therapist and my husband and was admitted to an acute
mental health care facility. I was only released after plans had been
made to transfer me to another facility in another state that
provided DBT therapy, which was the protocol for BPD (borderline
personality disorder) patients.
After
four months at the facility, the staff and I felt I was ready to
resume life. My husband and I decided to divorce in that time. I had
met another wonderful man while in treatment. After several months I
moved to the state where we had met and we began a new life together.
I
was doing really well for one of the longest periods ever. Meds were
right, therapy was fitting, and things were going smoothly. During a
five-day vacation period from my job, I somehow developed
agoraphobia. I literally feared going outside, avoided sunlight and
kept my curtains closed. Thus began another hospitalization, this
time for about two weeks. My meds were again readjusted, and I was
released. Since then, that boyfriend and I eventually broke up, and I
moved back to my hometown.
I’m
currently suffering again from deep depression and anxiety. Yet, now
I have no health insurance and have to rely on state funded care,
which is minimal at best. I am able to hold a part time job and
socialize with two of my lifelong friends. I have a new pet that
brings a level of peace and responsibility to my life, which helps to
keep me together. I only pray that simply surviving will continue.
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