Blog Entry: Hello world, I'm FREE!

Hello world, I'm FREE! Why hello.

My name is Autumn, and I am a 2-time Inpatient Psych Unit alumni. I am a narp (aka not female or male gender-wise), and attracted to females and my S.O., Sam.

I've been struggling with depression and anxiety for about 6 months now. Suicidal ideation and self harm have been a big part of that as well. If you read my last blog, you'll see that I almost attempted suicide on Tuesday, April 17th. I was admitted to the IPU on Thursday, April 19th. I was discharged today, the 27th.

On my seventh day in the IPU, I had an epiphany, in which I realized I'm not as horrible of a person as I might think. I was really really... happy, that night. That has gone down a little, but I guess I have a little more motivation to get better now.

However, I still feel shitty. More so now that I'm home and I'm talking to people and I'm seeing all of the things that have changed since I was last here. Also, seeing the window I climbed out of to run to that bridge I wanted to jump off of... it's hard to resist the urge. And I hate that fact.

I'm not going to kill myself.

I still want to, I wish I were dead, but I'm willing to try. I'm willing to try to be happy and live and reach my goals and finish my bucket list.

I have a new list, of things to look forward to.

Like, being in plays. And having kids. And getting a career. And going to prom. And maybe going to gay prom this year or the next. And maybe going to gay CAMP this Summer (more on that later. :3). And. The possibility that... MY MOTHER MIGHT LET ME CHANGE MY NAME LEGALLY TO AUTUMN.

My parents totally know about the gender stuff, and the suicide stuff, and the sexuality stuff, and the self-harm stuff, and the everything stuff. Except for the fact that I'm dating Sam. But they don't need to know that.

I guess... I'm in a better place than I was on that Tuesday. I'm alive, and not attempting suicide. I'm not hating myself... as much. I have found that positive self-talk, comparing my life to things that would be worse (i.e. my hair's fluffy, but at least I have hair), and looking forward to things in the future help me get through days and be happier. My meds have been switched from Prozac, which made me worse, to Zoloft, which... I don't know. Might help.

We'll see how things go, and I'll pull through. I always do.

I'm not glad I'm alive.

But I'm going to take the hint from whoever could possibly be or not be sending me a message that this is my second chance, my only chance, at a better life. At a happy one.

And it's my time to live it.