A deep dive into mental illness affecting millions. A dive into how lives are changed. A dive into how some die.

One

I promise not to do drugs or alcohol.

I promise not to do drugs or alcohol.

I promise not to do drugs or alcohol.

I promise not to do drugs or alcohol.

I promise not to do drugs or alcohol. I promise not to do drugs or alcohol. I promise not to do drugs or alcohol. I promise not to do drugs or alcohol. I promise not to do drugs or alcohol, I promise not to do drugs or alcohol, I promise not to do drugs or alcohol I promise not to do drugs or alcohol I promise not to do drugs or alcohol I promise no I promise no I promise no I promise I promise I promise I prom-

Just one sip.

One sip to calm my nerves and I’ll be okay, then back to nothing. One sip, and I’m done. I promise. I promise to only take one sip.

Of course, to get that one sip I either have to go to a bar and order a shot or drink, or I could go to a liquor store and get a small bottle. A liquor store is safer for me. But if I’m buying an entire bottle, it makes sense to finish it. I’ll get a small bottle, the smallest I can find. Finish it in one and be done with it. I’ll go to sleep, I just need something to be able to sleep. But if I remember right, alcohol alone won’t do it. I’ll pick up some melatonin while I’m out. The smallest bottle of vodka I can find and some melatonin. That’ll do the trick. I promise to only do it tonight to be able to fall asleep.

—

Last night was rough. I’ll be the first to admit it, but you have to understand. Things have been so shitty lately and I’ve been doing my best without anything. I feel like I’m never going to get better. I’m never going to get better. And I’m never going to get rid of these thoughts. These terrible thoughts that I can’t handle. These terrible thoughts I used to be able to handle but now I can’t. These terrible thoughts I can’t handle that I used to be able to that will never leave because I’ll never get better. At least I struggled, that’s better than just making the decision outright. I know it’s wrong, I can go to a meeting later today. I just have things to deal with first.

—

Oh god, things were no better today. I still have half the bottle from last night. I shouldn’t. I can’t. One night is one thing, but two nights in a row can’t happen. Whatever demons want to come for me tonight will just have to try. I’m stronger than them, I know I am. One night of weakness doesn’t show it, but I am. I promise I am. I promise I am stronger than I was.

What did Dr. Anderson say last time? Coping skills. Journal. Breathing. Bullshit. Whatever, I’ll try it at least to tell her that I did.

Dear Diary,

Today was absolute shit. Yesterday was absolute shit. My life is shit. This makes me feel like shit. Maybe tomorrow will be less shit.

Sincerely,

The biggest loser in the world.

Yeah, that did absolutely nothing.

Breathing. I certainly am. That’s enough trying for me. Maybe I’ll just see if melatonin can help me fall asleep.

—

“How have things been?” We walked from the lobby to Dr. Anderson’s office.

“I haven’t been sleeping well.” Understatement.

“We’ve talked about this before. Is this the same or is there something new going on?”

I sat in the oversized chair in the corner, it gave me a perfect view of the park outside while also being close to the door. Dr. Anderson’s office wasn’t big, but it also wasn’t small. Along one wall she had her desk where she sat in her desk chair facing me. Along the opposite wall was a couch and next to it an oversized chair. I always preferred the chair, there wasn’t as much space to fill, and there was less demand for closed space. Open space demands too much from someone with issues. Open space is room for dreams, I can’t have that space.

“Technically it’s nothing new. I just haven’t struggled with it in a while.”

“Are we talking about alcohol here?”

Dr. Anderson had learned early that if direct questions aren’t asked, she usually won’t receive a direct answer. Sometimes she’ll receive a lie instead, but if she asks if it's a lie, the truth has to come out. Over the years, I’ve gotten good at lying to people about how I am. It worked on Dr. Anderson for about a month before she learned to call out my lies. At that point, I was bad enough she said I couldn’t be trusted to be alone. She said lying to her just proved it, maybe she’s wrong because I’m fine by myself. I had one bad night due to a lack of sleep, but now that I’ve gotten that good night of sleep I’m better.

“Yes,” I answered honestly. I figure it’s best not to beat around the bush here, we have a limited amount of time.

“How bad was it?”

“Not the worst, half a bottle of vodka and some melatonin.”

“Only half? Did you dump the other half out?”

“Not yet.” Lie.

“When are you going to?”

“Soon.” Lie.

“I want to believe you. I also want to help you, but if you don’t talk about it with me, I can’t,” Dr. Anderson gave me her look.

Her ‘I want you to be successful’ Look. She gave it to me a lot. She gave it to me every session when I first started seeing her. She gave it to me when I came back after I had to drop out of college. She gave it to me every day when I was hospitalized. She gives it to me often still, but it’s been less so now that we’ve been able to go down to weekly appointments and she can consider me less of a danger to myself. She’s given it to me much less in the last six months. Well, almost six months. For five months and twenty-six days, I received a lot less of that look. Naturally, this would be the return of it.

“I had a particularly rough day. I was having trouble sleeping and I fought with myself for so long that I thought I would either fall asleep with a blade against my arms or with some alcohol in my system. I figured alcohol is something we’ve figured out before, I can do it again. It didn’t kill me before, it won’t kill me this time.”

“Maybe we should get another appointment on the books before we go further,” she turned around to her computer to start looking at her availability.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Telling her about alcohol is one thing. That’s something we’ve dealt with before. That’s something she knows I’m set up to handle. Anything involving sharp objects we both know is forbidden. Something about me having ‘self-destructive tendencies’ and being a ‘danger to myself’ if you can believe that. Of course, she wants another appointment. Of course, I’m just moving backward. Of course, I’m hopeless.

Hopeless.

Stupid.

Never going to get better.

That’s where it gets blurry. It starts in my feet and hands, tingles, and then just. Nothing. Not numb, just not being aware of them. Then my vision, is blurry, not knowing what I’m seeing. Real and fake are one and the same. If I can think of it, it’s real because when I think about it I can see it. Hearing is going. It’s just ringing. A loud, obnoxious ringing that doesn’t go away. I can’t hear myself making the extra appointment, just the ringing as it happens. The ringing as all control is gone. I’m stuck watching myself, not even being able to remember what’s happening. That’s where I leave, someone else comes to play. Someone else comes to ruin everything that I’ve already ruined. Maybe they can do better than me.​​​​​​​