How TV Saved Me: Tune in to find out (part 1)

I always felt different. Too different. I had so many secrets but no one to share them with. No one I trusted. I don’t think I knew more than a hundred people until I left for NYC. I think I’ve more than tripled the number of Facebook friends in just these three or four years of college. So my only outlet pre-internet/social media boom, was tv shows. But back then they still didn’t have a lot a diversity. There was no one I could really relate to. So what I have to say in this post might sound completely stupid, but this is how TV saved my life.

So by now you know I was suicidal since I was about 11 and entering the 6th grade. TV was my life. The life I wanted. The life I couldn’t have. TV was my escape from this miserable reality. I still kept up with whatever superheroes shows were on. I think Teen Titans was still big and Smallville was in its prime. But I was also totally a Disney kid. If it was on Disney, I wanted to watch it. Same with Nickelodeon. I also watched a lot of (probably too much) detective murder mystery shows. Now like I said this was before Netflix had online streaming. You know when Blockbuster was still big (if you’re old enough to remember that; damn I’m getting old). Anyways you had to wait a week and stay tuned at that “same Bat-time” on that same “Bat-channel” if you wanted to see the next episode. If you missed it, that was it. You had to wait for the right re-run if you wanted to catch up (so archaic and medieval, right?). Before the DVR we used a VCR with tapes that you had to rewind to watch or else you’ll run out of tape, and then there was the danger of recording over something you haven’t watched yet.

Ok so here’s where you might start judging me.

Artistic Tips: Stream of Consciousness

Stream of consciousness is just free writing. Writing without thinking. Thoughts. Feelings. Put into words. Not necessarily complete thoughts. Just ideas that flow together. One thing leads to another like links in a chain. Not all are created equal. Some are strong and hold. Other are weak and break off. It might not make sense to anyone else, but it still creates a picture. It's a raw, pure form of poetry extremely open to interpretation. It doesn't have to rhyme, but it helps it flow better.

Scars remain

I remember the pain

The blood stain

The pouring rain

The smiles I feign

The fears that reign

Good old memory lane

Feeling insane

Shackles, the mental chains

The beating of the cane

Alone against the grain

The nightmare bane

The energy wane

Emotions drain

The burdens I retain

Artistic Tips - More internal poetic devices

Here's a quick glossary of poetic devices you can use within a line.
Internal Rhyme: words that have the same ending sound that's not part of the line-ending rhyme scheme
Alliteration: a group of words strung together with the same beginning sound (constant or vowel)
note: beginning with the same letters does not guarantee alliteration
Assonance: a group of words with the same vowel sound anywhere in the words
Consonance: a group of words with the same constant sounds anywhere in the words

(I'll make a video for this eventually although it might not be until after I graduate.)

Poetry - Scars Remain

Scars remain

I remember the pain

The blood stain

The pouring rain

The smiles I feign

The fears that reign

Good old memory lane

Feeling insane

Shackles, the mental chains

The beating of the cane

Alone against the grain

The nightmare bane

The energy wane

Emotions drain

The burdens I retain

Poetry - Cutting Words

Why do I let words hurt me

More than these cuts and bruises

I bleed and bruise

Because I choose

To control some hurt

Make all else feel inert 

Why do I seek approval 

When I don’t approve of myself

I need to be wanted

Because I am haunted

Of being alone enough

That suicide won’t be a bluff

Why am I jealous of friendships

When I know that they all have to end

I know everyone leaves

Taking my treasure like thieves 

The only thing I desire

Is to not fall for another liar

Why do I feel a need to bleed

When I know I won’t live much longer

I live from day to day

Not knowing what to say

If anything at all

How badly I want to fall

Life Before and After A Suicide Attempt

Although I think suicide is the most important struggle since it's permanent and it's also what I used poetry to help me process the most, I decided not to lead with it but instead some of the major contributing factors for me. I don't think someone commits or attempts to commit suicide for just one reason. I didn't try to kill myself just because I was stuck in a massive depressive episode for years. I didn't try to kill myself just because I was gay and that wasn't acceptable in the Christian environment I was trapped in. I didn't just try to kill myself because I didn't feel like I could ever be the man I was "supposed to be." Yes, all those things pushed me closer to the edge, pushed the knife a little deeper. But after all that I tried to kill myself because of society and not just the one I locally lived in. I was 11 and I didn't want to grow up to be a teenager because teenagers are idiots. I should know now that I've crossed that bridge recently. But I saw them on TV, in books, in my life, (I'd say in movies but I wasn't allowed to go to those), and I so desperately did not want to be one of those. Aside from the aforementioned, I had lived as great a life an eleven-year-old could live. I was fully content with dying and escaping the future torment. But I'm here now so that obviously didn't work out. Before I knew it I was a godforsaken teenager. Puberty, honestly, wasn't that big of a deal for me. It hit me rather early for a guy and I was like ok. The hard part was that I was like ok I like guys, how do I stop? I had a couple best friends who I called my Lights. As long as I was around one of them I was ok. But at night the depression hit hard and fast. And unless you're familiar with that level of depression, it's too hard to explain in any way that isn't a face to face conversation. But one by one my Lights went out for different reasons. But by then I was already almost done with being a teenager. And I had become the monster I was trying so drastically to avoid. I had lost most of my innocence, not that any of us are innocent to begin with. I decided my freshman year of high school that I had to get as far from this homophobic environment as possible and as fast as possible. And I was too afraid to ask my parents to let me go to a public school, and I couldn't even play the financial card since my mom worked at the school so it was practically free. I honestly just wanted a place to get away from the same people I knew since I was 5 and saw six days a week none of whom I could trust. And yes, I was hoping to meet a cute guy or any non-hetero so I knew I wasn't alone. Because I don't know what's lonelier than being the only inmate living in a prison with no bars surrounded by wardens who preach love but would hate me if they knew who I had a crush on. So if I was going to be stuck in this system till I graduated, I might as well move up my release date. And who needs a sophomore year of high school anyways. I'd make a joke about a "wise fool" but that's etymologically incorrect.

Remember when I went to a mental hospital?

Therapy Tactics: Suicide Triggers

Dear Friends and Family of loved ones who are suicidal,

So I'm 21 now and have had about a decade of consistently thinking about suicide so I have some advice to tell you on how not to treat people who might be contemplating suicide which could be anyone so really this is how not to treat people.

1. Suicide is selfish - I was thinking I would remove the burden that is me from this godforsaken world. I was thinking a funeral would be cheaper than a mouth to feed daily. Give my food to those starving children you use to guilt us to eating our vegetables. I actually wrote in one of my suicide notes that I don't want a funeral. Not that I had much at 11, but to give everything I have to charity. I don't want to be remembered. It would have just been easier if I were never born. I never asked for life.

2. Suicide is a mortal sin - I'm not a theologian but I think that goes against Once Saved Always Saved and it's saying that we can do something so bad even God can't forgive us. Is jumping on a grenade to save others a mortal sin or a heroic act? It's suicide by definition of intentionally killing oneself.

3. Suicide is an irrational and hasty action - Sometimes it is. Sometimes it's not. Suicide notes are a clear sign that the person has been thinking about it for some time. I was 11 so it would be easy to assume that I wasn't thinking or didn't really know what I was doing. But I did. I thought about it for months. It consumed my waking thoughts. Haunted my dreams. Like I said in the first point I had a written quite a few suicide notes before I lost track of how many times I attempted. Humans are amazing at rationalizing what others perceive as irrational. We have many reasons for most things we do even if other people don't understand them.

4. Suicide jokes - Just don't. It minimizes our pain, past or present. You're laughing at us. And the closer you are to us especially if you know, the harder you're shoving us to the edge even if we've made it a decade away from that edge.

5. Never ever ever tell someone to go kill themselves - We might just do it. We might just be waiting for someone to push us over a line we couldn't bring ourselves to cross.

6. Don't make it taboo - If you don't make it a safe place to talk, then we're not going to talk and for me writing was enough to get me by but we all don't have those outlets and they're never a perfect substitute to genuine human loving and understanding connections.

7. Never ever shame anyone for it - Making depressed people feel bad about themselves is like handing us a knife and telling us which way to cut.

These are all things I've personally experienced people say. Not all of them directed to me, and none of them aware of my situation.

Behind the Poem - Suicide Triggers

"Suicide Triggers"
Trigger Warning? Where do I start?
It gets better, but it never stops.
What I write; my whole life Is not for the faint of heart.

I’m a fan of starting the writing process with phrases like “where do I start” or “what am I doing.” I sort of got it from a Relient K song that starts with “Should I start this song off with a question?” And I’m a huge fan of Relient K and I’m sure they influenced a lot of my work subconsciously, and I enjoy writing parodies of their work. Ok but psychologically that kind of phrasing places the reader into a similar mind set as the writer. And “it gets better” is a pretty popular phrase from the campaign It Gets Better Project which actually personally helped me a lot seeing all those celebrities (some of whom I’ve crushed on) standing up and reaching out a hand to people like me. And along with the trigger warning theme from the title and first words is that the story I’m writing about my life isn’t for everyone. Some people who might be struggling could have a negative reaction (a trigger) and that’s the last thing I want. So please be aware of your situation when you’re reading or that of anyone who you might point towards my work.

The knife stopped twisting, but the scars remain,
On my arms, my heart and my mind.
They heal but I still feel Every cut every pain.

Yeah, I cut a lot and still have a lot of scars, but not all of them are physical or visible. My heart, both the stress on my body and my ability to connect with other people. My mind, well that’s where the triggers are involved.

Soul Sharing - Suicide Triggers

So this topic is really the heart of this blog. This specifically is why I decided to blog. There really just isn't anything much available to help with dealing after suicide attempts. So I decided to use my story to put something out there for others like me. 

So the biggest suicide trigger was a couple months ago watching tv. Basically there was a girl (middle school age?) who threatened and attempted suicide, and then when confronted admitted it. “Sometimes I just want to die.” It just hit me so hard. That was exactly how I felt at around that age. But when I threatened, no one took me seriously. Suicide has a way of blindsiding everyone. People don’t notice the signs because they either don’t know what they are or chose to ignore them because “So-and-So would never do that.” Well, I was certainly the last person you would expect to be suicidal at such a young age and for so many years consistently, and I guess I am really good at hiding everything really well. No one knew I was cutting everyday and night for a year or so, and in places more visible than my arms. But that’s another story for next week's topic of self-harming. This one is really about dealing with triggers. Triggers are anything that brings back all that pain so you feel like you’re experiencing it all over again. It’s a more common term for things like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or any type of assault. 

But really triggers could be for anything. And if you are recovering from something more serious, then it’s very important to know your triggers and how to avoid them and cope with them the best way possible. And again that’s going to vary from person to person. But tv scenes like the one I described are one of my more common triggers. I’m not going to stop watching tv to avoid any possible trigger. That would be letting the trigger win. Sometimes you just have to confront it in a controlled environment. It helps for me to be alone and just cry it out. When something this heavy hits me so fast, everything kind of stops. I get disoriented and I fall onto my knees or curl up into a ball. I’ve learned not to fight it, but let it run its course. Usually for few seconds to a few minutes, but in the past it could have been hours. The more I would try to fight it or deny it, the more I would think about it. Crying is very therapeutic. I’ve cried many times until I ran out of tears, and then cried some more. As a guy who was never really very masculine, I felt like I had to train myself to not cry in front of people so if I was with people or in a crowded place, I’d run to the bathroom or just leave and walk it off. 

So that's my summary of suicide triggers. I'm constantly reminded about suicide, but I'm not suicidal anymore. I don't think about killing myself. I remember having tried to kill myself. And sometimes it's a shock to my system. Attempting suicide is a traumatic experience that I just have to find a way to live with. In the next post I'll walk through the poem and the specifics stories behind the lines.

Picture Poem - Only a Tattoo

Photo by Beckah Jackman

Poem by David Wright

"Only a Tattoo"

I locked my heart and gave you the only key

The torch of our love is the the only light I need to see

The touch of time only tests our relationship

The canvas of our love only grows as time tightens its grip

It’s only a tattoo

It’s only a symbol of how much time I spent with you

Artistic Tips - Internal Rhymes and Irregular Lines

There's a lot more to say on this poem in the Soul and Therapy sections, but every poem is also an example to learn different styles and techniques. In this poem I use internal rhymes to make up for irregular line length.

This poem is written in tercets with an ABA rhyme scheme and no particular meter. (There might be one I used subconsciously. If you can figure it out, let me know! Refer back to some of the earlier Artistic Tips to help you identify and count meter.) 

The seemingly random capitalization in the last line of every stanza indicates where it could be a line-break making it a quatrain. I chose not to do that because I didn't like the rhyme scheme of ABCA and that with most of the stanza the line lengths would look incredible irregular. People often say that poetry should be focused on sound and rhythm because it's meant to be spoken. I highly disagree.

Imaginary Self - Who Am I? (Part 3)

As I left off in part 2, when I was little I wanted to be a prince. This was the start of my imagination adventures that I still go on to escape the boredom of reality. It's why I have always seemed so content in silence and so patient. I never really had imaginary friends. I had an imaginary reality that I entered to entertain myself. And it was all in my head, I didn't tell anyone or verbalized the dialogue running through my mind like I was directing and acting in a tv show. So I could be getting a haircut or just sitting on the floor staring at unplugged fan and no one would know that I had left this reality. The only physical thing I really did was use my two fingers to run as my characters were moving. For this post I'm going to psychoanalyze my four-year-old-self and see how this fictional world I created reflected one of the fundamental aspects of my personality and how that made me vulnerable to depressing and suicidal thoughts.

So the first character I created was named Silver. He was a prince with yet-to-be defined magical powers and his weapon was a whip. But instead of this being my imaginary friend, he was my idealized self.

Poetry - Suicide Triggers

Trigger Warning? Where do I start?

It gets better, but it never stops.

What I write; my whole life Is not for the faint of heart.

The knife stopped twisting, but the scars remain,

On my arms, my heart and my mind.

They heal but I still feel Every cut, every pain.

I don’t remember how many suicide attempts I’ve survived

Except that it was my favorite after school activity

From eleven to seventeen Poison laces any memories revived.

Suicidal memories have replaced suicidal thoughts.

It’s Russian roulette without a bullet.

There’s no pill for this ill but No Demons to be fought.

The trigger gets pulled and I fall to my knees.

Can’t breathe. Clutching my heart. Cloudy mind. Numb.

These tears are for fears That will never escape me.

Life progresses in either fast forward or slow motion,

Like life is passing by as reality constantly shifts

Triggering torment that I can’t forget Causing a caustic nauseous notion.

How the hell am I suppose to live with myself everyday

When the man in the mirror was my past potential killer?

I forgave him to save him But now what are we suppose to say?

It was Faith and fellowship that pulled me through

The proverbial fire that was my personal hell,

But it’s Grace and faces That pull my triggers too.

As much as I want to, I can never forget 

All my short comings, how far I’ve fallen;

It’s combined with how high I’ve climbed It’s a problematic set.

So anything can be my trigger at any time. 

I’m still learning how to cope with this post traumatic stress,

But every day proves another way That I can survive.

7 Reasons People Attempt Suicide

1. Pressure. To be perfect whether from personal goals/desires, to impress loved ones, or to keep up with society, school, or work.
2. Bullying. For different in any way from LGBTQ+ to race/ethnicity to religion
3. Low Self-Esteem. Feeling worthless or useless. Feeling like a burden with nothing to offer.
4. Depression. From mental illness or circumstances.
5. Escape. To be free from unbearable pain whether physical, emotional, or mental.
6. Loneliness. No support from friends or family. No one else to live for.
7. Abuse. Physical or emotional abuse at home or anywhere; past, present, or fear of future abuse 

The 7 Suicide Songs Poem correlate roughly to these 7 reasons but with overlapping issues because there's almost never just one thing that makes you try to kill yourself.

5 Statistic on Teen Suicides

1. Suicide is the 2nd leading cause of death for ages 10-24
2. More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic long disease combined
3. Every day there are an average of over 5,400 attempt by kids in grades 7-12
4. Four out of five teens who attempt suicide have given clear warning signs (that's 80%)
5. Females attempt suicide more than three times as often as males; but males die by suicide more than four times as often as females

Statistics found at the Jason Foundation from the 2013 CDC reports.

For more statistics on suicide in general with graphs and stuff check out the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.

Suicide Songs: Saturday

Saturday was Sally’s one year anniversary 

From when Sally was rescued from the most perverse adversity.

Sally was twelve when she ran away

Thirteen when she was pimped out every day.

Four, five, maybe six men a night

Sally was too drugged up to remember or to put up a fight.

By seventeen Sally was her captors’ best selling product.

Sally graduated to the busy streets earning quite the profit. 

Eight high-end regular clients from all walks of life.

Sally walked away wondering how many of them had wives.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

Ten minutes later Sally barely survived her insurgency.

Eleven hours later she woke up handcuffed to a hospital bed.

Sally was arrested for prostitution. A teenager who was barely fed.

Charges were dropped and Sally was released onto the streets.

After twelve months with no one to help her get back on her feet,

Sally almost went back to her pimp. The only life she knew.

But the memories were too much so in the next life she sought refuge.

Suicide Songs: Friday

Closing time. Say goodnight. Lock up.

Same routine like every other Friday.

But today was the last check Luke would pick up

Luke told his co-workers he would be ok.

And no one wanted to believe that it was a lie

Twenty-four years doing the same thing every day

Luke had always been too proud to man up and cry

It wasn’t the best job but it was more than decent pay

It was more than a job. It was what he loved. It was his entire life.

He was married to his work so he never bothered to look for a wife.

Money wasn’t the problem. He had a comfy retirement fund.

Finding another job wasn’t the problem. He was well qualified.

But his accident and the damage could never be undone.

Behind a computer at a desk, he knew he would not be satisfied.

So as everyone was leaving from the front door

He took the elevator up. Limped up one last set of stairs

One last check. Felt nothing in his core.

Said goodbye to his love then jumped into the air

Suicide Songs: Thursday

Lucy wasn’t feeling so lucky last Thursday. 

Her friends were no longer jealous of, or interested in her life.

She had everything and then lost everything in just one night.

A handsome husband and two beautiful boys.

Her high school sweetheart. Her pride and joys.

Her reason to smile as she laid down her head. 

Her reasons to wake up early and get out of bed.

Money can’t replace happiness. 

Insurance can’t fix faulty seat-belts.

It can’t cover the cost of the immense pain she felt.

She was drowning in all the paperwork and all her grief 

She was left alone to pick out three coffins of three different sizes

And no one was left to comfort her cries in her crisis

There wasn’t a bottle deep enough to grant her relief

There wasn’t an ocean wide enough to drown her sorrow

But her bathtub was just the right size to forever avoid tomorrow

If she could have had the support to stay afloat for a few more days

She would have discovered on her own that she was too late

It was too late for her boys, but not for her little girl

Suicide Songs: Wednesday

Andrew only walked through the quad on Wednesdays 

It’s the one day his roommate didn’t drag him to the cafe

Wesley was nice enough to Andrew so he had a hard time saying no

He would say he wasn’t hungry but Wes would still insist that he go

But he reluctantly went because he needed Wes to force him to eat

After class they walked around the quad to avoid to the sunny heat

Andrew was too depressed to eat on his own

When he did try, he would vomit before he went home

Next semester Wes had practice on Wednesdays so Andy skipped lunch and cut through the quad 

It was the quickest way to get back to his dorm, but he nervously gave everyone a frantic friendly nod

When he got home, he threw out half of his food so Wes wouldn’t suspect

He left crumbs on his bed and at his desk in case he ever tried to inspect

Andy told Wes he was anorexic and depressed over the break

He was trying to get better but the best he could try was to fake

Wes was nice but he wasn’t enough

Life was getting unbearably tough

Andy wrote a note for his roommate

Left a voicemail telling him to come home late

Locked the door. Said a prayer.

Tied the knot. Kicked the chair.

Suicide Songs: Tuesday

On Tuesday Brittany was teased for the last time.

She had the word slut carved into her arm.

No one ever suspected that she self-harmed.

She wore long sleeves but a short skirt

All the guys thought she was a tease 

And all the girls thought she was  a flirt

She was a virgin, never even kissed a boy

But that didn’t stop the lies that could not be appeased

She said no to the quarterback who tried to use her like a toy

He told everyone she slept with the entire team

And he told her he would rape her if she didn’t agree

She was scared and alone. Her mom was an alcoholic

Her step-dad abusive. Her cuts were simply symbolic,

A physical manifestation of all her emotional pain.

She wasn’t clinically depressed. She was completely sane.

She just cut too deep. 

And fell fast asleep.