So now they say it might be ADD

So the psychiatrist dude last Friday told me, no, I don’t think you have aspergers, but I do think you might have ADD. And when I saw the case worker a few days later, it was obvious she’d talked with the psychiatrist, because she was doing something new, asking me how I manage bills, appointments, obligations. To which I responded with a confused laugh: um, I just don’t. She suggested I do some thinking about organizing, started to give helpful suggestions, but I sat there feeling completely confused, and therefore resistant: I don’t need tips on what dayplanners to choose, I need an aspergers diagnosis, recognition for what I’ve been struggling with so many years, and help.

But what she said obviously percolated in my brain, cuz a day later I was at a friend’s house saying, I need something to help me get organized, and she said well shoot, I just happen to have an old iPhone lying around, maybe you can download some helpful apps, keep it with you? (big time parenthetical hugs to this friend.)

And my brain was obviously still percolating, cuz yesterday I found myself frustrated about my search for an aspergers diagnosis, getting blocked at every turn, and then the horrid thought, what if I -don’t- have aspergers? What if I’ve been deluding myself all this time, and the psychiatrist is right, I just have ADD, and what if the case worker was right, that my interpersonal, social difficulties are because I was abused as a kid. But I’m so confused about that last part because I’m an honest, self aware, intelligent, deeply searching person, and in all honesty I know what of my traits could be explained by childhood abuse (most of which I’ve processed, acknowledged) and which is not explained by it. But if the case worker’s initial thought was right, then geezus I am one seriously fucked up person.

I went for a walk today, and brain continued to percolate, and it was thinking this: you’re encountering many difficulties with getting an aspergers diagnosis. It’s possible you might have an easier time getting an ADD diagnosis. and from what you’ve heard, much of ADD is comorbid with many parts of aspergerness. So maybe go with the ADD for now, for efficiency’s sake? I resolved by the end of my walk to do in depth research on ADD when I got home.

It’s two hours later. I am ADD 100%. And from what I’ve been reading, people with ADD tend to have marked issues with keeping friends, miss social clues, frequently interrupt, seem as if they’re not listening, the other person sees them as standoffish, rude… ADD people are impulsive, poor decision making skills, very disorganized, life continually seeming a mess, or falling apart…

Which is me.

Then I read one guy’s description of his life with ADD, and what he described was straight out of the DSM for Aspergers.

And I read thru tips, coping mechanisms for people with ADD, and a lot of it would help me, but it would still leave a marked gap in terms of my complete and utter inability where it comes to feeling like a complete, social pariah, an utter failure as a human being.

And at this point I stop researching, stop reading, stop writing this post, and just zone out for the rest of the night.

one step at a time

my computer (laptop) died last week, tuesday. been online off for brief snatches, over to friends’ house twice to use her spare macbook (such as today), and brief fragments to quickly check email at job search centers. i owe too much in overdue fines at the local libraries to be able to use their computers. (and, by the way, have you ever tried to use the computers at a library? at least in the bay area, a vexing experience.)

then awesome friend, whose house i’m at, decided to give/loan me her old iphone wed evening, so started using that yesterday. i so owe her, and grateful. can at least get online, wherever there’s iphone, even without a phone plan.

saw mental health case worker for the second time tuesday. crisis mental health services for east bay county. and saw psychiatrist at that same location this past friday. i had my misgivings when i first went in, but after out hour and a half meet, where he asked extremely detailed questions, he seemed to be rather competent. he took me off the wellbutrin, and started me on tegretol. he said he wasn’t sure if i was bipolar or had unipolar depression (three-four other psychiatrist i’ve seen have diagnosed me as bipolar, so i’m sticking with that), but he suspected i had ADD in addition. sent me to have blood drawn, said it’s necessary for tegretol, and then i need to go get blood drawn again next week (after having taken a full dose of the tegretol for 5 days).

going off the wellbutrin, i initially felt grateful to be off it, felt like i had a personality again. felt really good, then hypomanic, then clearly mixed. also first five days of being off the wellbutrin, on the tegretol, violent nightmares, hugely intense dreams. now, a week after being on the tegretol, past couple days, no nightmares, though dreams are still pretty intense visually. started/ing to mellow out, though irritability developed over the weekend continues.

thoughts i’m having include the thought: what personality do i have underneath the mood disorder, instability? and realizing i had no idea.

my understanding of bipolar disorder is changing. back in my early to late 20s, i was diagnosed as bipolar 2 with psychotic features. given depakote, and a wide variety of psychotics to “control” meltdowns i’d have. in the research i’ve done recently, i’ve discovered that the two commonly prescribed drugs for bipolar, depakote and lithium, are commonly used for bipolar people with manic prevalencies. i don’t get hugely manic, tho, just hypomanic, and then mixed. the biggest problem, persistent, i have is a difficulty focusing, getting my thoughts in clear order, organizing, and then nearly omnipresent depression. so, back in my 20s, they’d prescribe me mood stabilizers meant for manic-ness, and it’d stabilize my moods to a small degree, but i’d still have meltdowns, still have trouble focusing, still dealt with instability, and still dealt with considerable depression.

so this recent psychiatrist told me about a handful of anticonvulsants that might be more appropriate for my specific type of bipolar-ness, and i brought out my little printed sheet of common ACs and their common side effects, and we decided on tegretol. he said that a number of clients he gets (mostly homeless, indigent) come in with severe drug abuse issues, and once they get off the illegal drugs he finds they had ADD, and he finds for my specific type of instability, ADD-ness, tegretol with wellbutrin he finds helpful. (i do understand he might be biased towards ADD diagnosing, but it’s a diagnosis for myself i’ve considered for a number of years.) he took me off the wellbutrin, tho, for now, cuz he wants to find out what the tegretol does on its own.

the night after my laptop died, given i’m in an empty sublet bedroom with no belongings, no books, nothing to do, i stayed up late and on 3 sheets of paper wrote out my 35 year history, marking every impulsive move to a new city, every psych med given, every diagnosis, every time fired from a job, every period of homelessness, etc. when i finished it, i looked at it and said, wow.

a year ago the partner of the friend who loaned me her iphone… this person is a case worker, and suggested i apply for SSI. i didn’t think much of the idea at the time, said, i’m not disabled, i’ve got 2 arms, 2 legs, am reasonably intelligent, etc. but then meeting with my iphone friend a week or two ago, we had a long, long conversation where i said, y’know, i’m reconsidering the disability idea. it’s not that i have CP or MS or am parapalegic or blind. but looking at that history of my life i wrote it, it was marked, heavily interspersed, month after month, year after year, a clinical picture of someone continually homeless, continually losing jobs, continually broke, continual instability, massive social connectivity issues… i wish i could post it here, so other people going thru the same thing could see it, know they’re not alone. what i wrote out showed that i am clearly dealing with something that clearly is showing that i need help.

so i contacted a local organization that helps people with disabilities, said, hey, i’m not sure if i have a disability, but i do have bipolar disorder, and i am seeing a case worker and a psychiatrist and am receiving psych medication, and i’ve got this 15 year history of homelessness and inability to keep a job and i’m wondering if i could talk to somebody. a series of going by in person, calling on phone, and i’m going back there monday for informal evaluation by the career coordinator.

also been going to the workshops, sessions at something called east bay works, they provide employment, vocational services for broke, unemployed, &/or homeless people. doing the sessions i need to do to sign up for their system, get placed with a vocational counselor. i’ll have the last session completed wed of next week.

and when i went in for my second meet with the case worker, she had me fill out an EDD form, said the psychiatrist had started the process on his own to get me set up with short-term disability. said i qualified because despite my inconstancy of employment, i worked long enough at a recent job that i’d paid into a state fund, and said i was qualified, psychiatrically, for short term disability payments. no idea when that’ll kick in. i’ve got enough $ to pay for rent for december, but after that i’m screwed. am not thinking of long-term, tho, only of the now.

being a week without a computer, it showed how being so computer-addicted as i was, it wasn’t good for me. i didn’t go out, didn’t attempt to be social. back before the computer age in my life, i used to go out dancing, hiking, did volunteer work, took free noncredit classes in art and such. since i got a computer? don’t do anything. also, given all the problems i deal with, instability and such, i realized i was creating an online persona, one of helplessness, inability, and it was circular, self-defeating. kinda don’t want to get a computer again, because off the computer, i’m accomplishing more. well, as much as a person struggling with depression and side effects from psych meds and going back and forth between psychiatrist meetings and case worker meetings and applying for food stamps and such can be.

the frustrating PT design client, i’d sent an email last monday, said, hey, the way things have been, i can’t continue working with you like that. (though said it in a nicer way.) said their expectation i was going to be available 24/7, etc, wasn’t workable. said i’d get their design job to them to them the next day, tuesday, and then if they wanted me to work for them further, we’d need to meet to discuss the working relationship.

so, of course, my laptop died the next day. and i told the person, told them to hold on. but the past week, it just hasn’t been good, i feel like a failure, seriously bad person, for not following thru with them like i said i would, guilty, but am realizing… y’know, i am dealing with a lot right now, and there is so much i am capable of. but then reconnected, said, hey, i’m working on getting a replacement for my computer, i’ll start working on your job wed (this past wednesday) and get to you wed with an estimate when the job will be completed.

this entire week i’ve been running nonstop between all sorts of meets trying to get help, and i did not get to her wednesday, nor thursday, and now it’s friday.

i took a chance, ordered a repair cd online for $30 (from what little i have to get me thru december), and it arrived today at my friend’s house. popped it in, and it said to continue, it’ll erase all my data. not having backed up my files, given how chaotic things have been this year. i’m not sure what to do. do i need a computer? am i supposed to be finishing at least this one job for the client? i don’t know anymore. all i know is i need help, and i’m doing everything i can to get the help i need, organization after organization, public assistance org, one after the other. that’s all i know, that’s all that’s in my head right now.

first meet with case worker, i said i believe i have asperger’s syndrome, and been trying to get help, a diagnosis, for 5 years. she said she wasn’t sure i had aspergers, cuz “i seemed ok to her.” psychiatrist told me, “i don’t think you have it, cuz you’re doing ok talking to me.”

but it’s like these people have the view of kannerian autism in their minds, like dustin hoffman’s character in rain man, and since i’m not like the rain man guy, i must not be autistic. none of these people i’m talking to have experience with asperger’s syndrome, have studied, or know what it is. and i’m continuing to struggle to get help, but each person i talk to says, “you seem to be ok talking to me”, which is so frustrating. look, people, i’m a reasonably intelligent person, and i am not making this up. i have been *living* this life, and you have no idea what i’m dealing with. i say the words, “i keep losing jobs because coworkers say they feel uncomfortable around me”, and they mark that down as a personality issue, something minor, not that it’s something big, something that gets me continually fired. and the disability advocacy place…

got off the phone with the woman i’m going to see on monday, about two hours ago. i’m going in so she can sit me at a computer, pretend i’m a coworker, see what difficulties i may have. and she’s a very positive, “i want to give you the support system you need” person, but the half hour conversation i had with her (the last 15 minutes of it i had a very hard time with, brain broke down, no more words, please, no more words spoken at me, i can’t take it), it was like she was telling me the same thing, it’s not aspergers i’m dealing with, a diagnosed disability, instead it’s my personality, i just need to try harder. and i have been trying, and trying, and trying, for so many years, and i’m tired of hearing people tell me there’s nothing wrong with me, i just need to try harder. and talking with her about SSI, and me saying i didn’t want to sit on my butt the rest of my life and collect a check, i *wanted* to work, but i keep getting fired from jobs and things keep falling apart… and she says to definitely look into getting any help i can, but to not be surprised if the SSI person i saw didn’t believe me when i claimed i had a disability, cuz i look reasonably well-functioning at casual glance, there are people who have a much worse time than i.

when i finally got off the phone with the woman, i grabbed my smokes, went outside, sat on the steps, and broke down crying from ragged frustration, not sure what to feel, what to think.

but i’ll be at her place monday morning to see what she proposes, cuz i need all the help, ideas i can get, and she says she can help possibly with food assistance, get me some interview clothes (i have no decent clothes to interview in by this point), and then i’ll be at the the employment help place monday, for another orientation session, and taking it one day at a time, trying to find any help i can get, cuz that’s all i can do, take it one step at a time.

aesthete

Sensitive peeps might not want to see this. Dark, twisted people, however:

Feeling grumpy ‘is good for you’ (uh, no)

An Australian psychology expert who has been studying emotions has found being grumpy makes us think more clearly.

In contrast to those annoying happy types, miserable people are better at decision-making and less gullible, his experiments showed.

While cheerfulness fosters creativity, gloominess breeds attentiveness and careful thinking, Professor Joe Forgas told Australian Science Magazine.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/8339647.stm

hunh?

met with the case worker

finally got to meet with the case worker today. turned out to be a very deep conversation, and possibly the most in-depth counseling/psych intake session i’ve ever been part of. she took highly detailed notes, got my entire family history, dates, education, year by year, what i’ve been doing my entire life. which is a lot to review, and a lot to account for. was in her office for an hour and a half.

one disconcerting thing was near the start of the interview. i’d said that i’d been on medication for bipolar disorder something in 2000/2001. but had bad experiences, and have been off medication the past 8 years. the disconcerting part was her looking at me suspiciously, saying, ‘i’m trying to understand how someone who is bipolar would be off medication for that long.” i.e., suspicious that i’m making it up now. thing is, there are many, many bipolar people who spend years and years off medication; i am not an isolated incident.

another disconcerting thing was being asked to narrative, in detail, the ways in which i was abused as a kid, family dysfunction, violence. she also spent what i felt to be an inordinate amount of time asking me to, in exquisite, painstaking detail, relive, recount every sordid detail about my having been sexually abused. reliving it, right there in her office, recounting it all. i don’t understand why that was important.

she also asked if i ever indulged in risky behavior. i couldn’t quite understand the question. did i ever go on shopping sprees, have sex with multiple partners? you mean, multiple partners at the same time? i asked. we both laughed. i said, yes, either way that question is meant. but i don’t understand the question, if having sex with multiple partners, being profligate, is a sign of mental instability, then the entire college population should be put on psychiatric medication to control their dangerous, unnatural behavior. and certainly porn stars, and polyamorous people, and sex workers, by her theory, all these people are deviant and unstable.

she came up with a theory, that the difficulty i have keeping jobs, the fact that i keep moving from city to city, lead a transient lifestyle, can’t keep friendships/relationships, it’s because of the trauma i suffered as a kid, and the reason i live such a transient lifestyle is because i’m running in fear. she turned to me, as if she were a therapist, asked pointedly, “what is it that you’re running away from? what are you scared of?”

i almost said, i’m sorry, is this going to be a therapy session? but didn’t, and i sat there, trying to at least do her question justice, but i’m sitting there, mulling it over, and yes, i’m living with a huge amount of fear…

i finally, after several long moments, say, “what i’m actually afraid of is that this instability i’m dealing with, these out of control mood swings that keep destroying jobs, my life, that i’m not going to get my moods under control, taht i’m going to continue to lose jobs, i’ll continue to be homeless. what i am scared of is that it doesn’t matter how hard i try, i continue to run into problems at jobs, despite how intelligent and a good worker i am, because i simply don’t fit in, am too weird for people, am not good with the small talk, office politics. i’m scared that i won’t be able to find a job that i can keep, that i’ll never be able to make it work.”

she stopped with the whole “running away from fear” questioning tangent when i said this.

i also said that i’ve lost jobs, repeatedly, and i described instances, where my inability to get a diagnosis for asperger’s syndrome means i can’t get the protection i need. that my insurance wouldn’t pay for it, back when i had a job and had insurance, and the cheapest option i can find is $1200 minimum, goes past $2000. did she know of any low-cost options for getting a diagnosis, so i could get legal protection at jobs? she said she didn’t know of any, but she’d ask her colleagues.

she also said that she couldn’t offer any help with finding work or housing, but that the place you apply for food stamps from, they should have some sort of job search resources. she also gave me a list of local places i could possibly get free therapy, suggested it’d be a good thing, to be placed into long-term theory, to learn social skills, how to set goals, manage my affairs, etc. and she made me an appointment with their in-house psychiatrist for friday. which is good timing, as my medication runs out on friday. and she said that this week, before our followup appointment next week, i needed to’ve called a local medical care program for indigent people, find a clinic that’s taking new patients, so i can get set up with a GP. And to qualify for that, i have to prove i’m broke, have no job, no money. which shouldn’t be hard to do.

i’ve got so much i need to do, and i’m not feeling hopeful about my chances of finding a job. i need to make something happen.

i’m a little worried about what the consequences will be, with regards to her having made me recount my sexual abuse history, in salient detail. things tend to hit in waves, goes thru my subconscious first, and i’m a little scared about how my subconscious might react to that.

your latest post is not appropriate

Autism Hub Admin
to me

Hi,

Sorry, but I have temporarily removed your blog from the Autism Hub listing. You are as free as always to write and post what you like, but your latest post is not appropriate for the Hub. I hope thing get better for you soon.

- Dave Seidel

yes, autism-hub, i apologize for having comorbid disorders. we certainly don’t want to talk about the dark things people on the autistic spectrum go thru. please go back to your fluffy, sanctimonious, candy coated world, and have a nice, candy-coated life. oh, and fuck off.

i have just downed 4-5 shots of jager

i have just downed 4-5 shots of jager, on top of a 6pack of cheap white trash beer. i have a private, paid for, sublet room, a fan blowing at me, and a laptop computer to wake me up at 12:30p for my 2pm psychiatric case worker appointment. i also have a fine patchwork of cuts made into my arm that, while lacking any deeper artistic integrity, are certainly not non-existent.

now, the only trick is to get me to sail across this mess and land into sleep.

oh shit, yes, i also just downed 2 very worn, soft-edged ativan i’ve been carrying with me awhile, and those are the exact things i am hoping will prope me beyond the land of disorganized excess into sleep.

Extroversion vs Introversion (subtitle: Songs to Kill Yourself By)

This is an unscientific theory, but based on personal experience, and reading I’ve done, it seems there are two ways a person can respond to pain/stress/breakdown/meltdown/losing-of-mind: as an extrovert, or as an introvert.

Extroverts are the people who, when seeing an accident, immediately shriek hysterically, or call out loudly over and over, “Call 911! Call 911! OH MY GOD ARE YOU OK ARE YOU OK?!!!” These are the people who throw their arms up and scream when on rollercoasters. These are the people who rise up in pep rallies and stamp their feet and cheer the cheerleading squad. These are the people who rise to their feet and utter hoarse cries in football stadiums.

Introverts are people who, when seeing an accident, immediately stop, go into neutral mode, assess the situation, and they either remain frozen, or they calmly do what needs to be done, using very few words. These are the people who sit quietly in rollercoasters, and do not make a sound. These are the people who remained sitting during high school pep rallies, not really understanding. These are the people who will sit at a football game and analytically assess the game on the ground, but quietly.

The extroverted insane, it seems, are easy to pick out. They are the ones who take a bottleful of pills, never having done the research to see if, in fact, it’s a practical way to go, and they do it in a public space, where they know people will find them. These are the people who, I don’t know, stalk madly thru city streets, cursing out loud, screaming at people. These are the people twitching, banging on walls, who have to be physically restrained, overdosed with thorazine, haldol. These are the crazy mental patients from movies. You can recognize them.

The introverted insane… Jeffrey Dahmer. Very quiet, you never would’ve guessed it to look at them, serial killers. The people who never make a sound, lead very quiet lives, unassuming, when suddenly one day they go postal, in a very deadly, final way. These are the suicides who everyone is surprised about, their friends & family never knew. These are people who slice their skin with razor blades, quietly, never telling a soul.

Borderline personality disorder. Or an inability to feel emotions as a normal person does. We are going on another tangent: I am not describing introverts en masse, but my own specific form of introversion. Where, if I see pain, suffering, I don’t see an emotion, I don’t feel sympathy, I only see it as Art. I see the lighting, the ambience, reach for my camera without thinking, looking for the best angle, the best photograph.

Without emotion, I take a knife, and carve shapes into my skin. I feel nothing when I do this. I calmly walk to the store, buy a 6pack of beer with money I can’t afford. Calmly I walk back into my room. I lay the 6pack on the bed beside me. Calmly, without sound, even a benign smile on my face, I go to the table, get my buck knife and my camera, bring it onto the bed with me. I open up iTunes, and I create a new playlist entitled, “Songs to Kill Myself By.” I set the playlist to play, quietly place sound-isolating headphones over ears. Without emotion I drink one beer after the other. Without feeling, empty, stripped of all ounce of personality.

Except for those times when something cracks, and I find myself doubled over in crying I can’t stop, I would otherwise feel like a robot. Calm, nonchalant. None of this touches me. Amused, even. I do this, have stood there for several moments doubled over with strangled, moaning, crying, then I straighten up, instantly empty, and I walk to the desk and pass myself in the mirror, and I have a bemused, not there smile on my face. A trick I picked up as a kid, if you have an adult who’s knocked you to the ground, jumped on top of you, and is whaling with his fists into your 8 year old body, you calmly, instinctively, pull your arms up to shield your face, but otherwise make no sound, just wearily waiting for it to be over. And a smart-ass reply (“thanks, that was fun”) when the bastard is done, and walk calmly back to your bedroom, shaking your head with a motion wise beyond your years.

I don’t know how badly I’ve messed myself up. I routinely lose relationships, friendships. Ex-lovers want nothing to do with me. I get fired from jobs, over and over. Continual interpersonal issues at jobs, people look at me strangely, I am not right, I am not like everyone else. I go sit in bars, have a drink or two or several, in a quiet corner, everyone else coming together in groups and laughing and flirting and dates, and I spend the night alone. Those who approach always leaving bewildered, nervous, they never approach again. And though I make it a rule anymore not to, in my blogs, discuss relationships with people, and I’m sorry to do this, but someone I recently met, who was just as messed up, plagued with problems as me, this person tells me that I’M emotionally messed up. And I can see it, I know what he’s talking about, something is wrong with me emotionally, and it feels pathological, the stuff postal serial killers are made of. Much too perverse, much too unable to give and take like a normal person does. I must have precise control, it must be done in a twisted, guarded way. I am deficient, maligned, to anyone I meet. Anyone who does keep me in their lives does so as a thing of curiosity; I’ve had people tell me this, that they’ve never met anyone who thinks likes me, and we always meet in private, never in groups, and it’s like psychological exploration for them, plumbing the depths of my weirdness.

I don’t know if I really am supposed to be a serial killer, or if I’m going to wind up going postal one day. Or if I will indeed slice my wrists open, or find that secluded cliff I need, throw myself off the edge. I’m trying to think of where to go, but I can’t get my brain to work. Golden Gate Bridge is too public, problematic. I want something in the middle of nowhere, I want the bottle of ativan or benzos or haldol consumed, and throw myself when I’ve gone completely numb, so I don’t feel a thing, so it only feels like I’m flying, peace. I don’t know if, when I go to meet with the case worker tomorrow, if she will, in fact, be helpful. If I will get the job help I need, the mental health help I need, the therapy I need.

I don’t know if she’ll decide that because I’m too quiet, too white, too eloquent, that I’m not in need enough, and I don’t deserve the help she could give me. I don’t know if she’ll decide that the help she can give is better suited to those who are extroverted about their breakdowns, their psychoses, their insanity.

I don’t know how, in my emotionally stunted, possibly pathological, scarily so, but very quiet about it, and the worse it gets the quiet I get… way, I don’t know how to ask for help in a way that’s convincing. Especially if I’m convinced that I’m lying, am making it all up. Because I’m too educated, too self-aware, for this not to be artifice. I’m being lazy, a faker. (Never mind that’s what my mother told me growing up, and when I’d told her I needed to see someone about the fact that, at age 12, I stood in the shower with her boyfriend’s razor in my hand contemplating slicing my wrists open. Her response was to clam up, say nothing, it never happened, and then ever afterwards tell me I was fucked in the head, lazy, worthless, nothing I didn’t amounted to anything. So, I’m not sure, would events from 25 years ago affect how I perceive myself, and my asking for help, now?)

Given I distance so much, til I feel nothing… it winds up in what I’m in the midst of right now, listening to “Songs to Kill Yourself By” on iTunes, getting detachedly drunk, knife by my side, camera at my side as well, because the pathological wrongness of me wants to film it. And emptily, feeling nothing, even a bemused smile on my face, I hold the knife over my wrist and press down.

All the while thinking: this isn’t real, none of this is real.

Songs to Kill Yourself By:
Lightning Crashes – Live
Chasing Cars – Snow Patrol
Run – Snow Patrol
The Show Must Go On – Queen*,**
Jump the Next Train – Young Parisians*
Creep – Radiohead*
*only during a mixed episode, not when depressed
**only during setup, not during actual act

no space ace!

i know you’re not my responsibility, but i am your friend

i hope the friend who sent this email is ok with me doing this. got back from a walk to the shore to watch the sunset, take some photos, found this email waiting for me:

i know you’re not my responsibility, but i am your friend and i care about you and if there is ever anything i can do to help, i would like to do it. i don’t know exactly what you are going through, but I do know what it is like to be on (or over) the edge of sanity and to feel pain so bad that you would consider doing anything to relieve it. i just want you to know that i am here if you want to talk or hang or im or just not be alone. i am especially good at hanging out without the need to interact with my company ;)

i am posting this because, if you happen to have a friend who is feeling suicidal or feeling very on edge, mentally, psychiatric-ly, and you’re unsure what to say, the above email is a pretty darn good way to phrase your offer of help.