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[原创] yeeyan组的祝福:留着青山在,不怕没柴烧

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发表于 09-1-26 13:22:29 | 只看该作者 回帖奖励 |倒序浏览 |阅读模式
第七章 月亮湾
我并不想写着一章,但我觉得这很重要。在十九世纪四十年代,现代医学出现之前,超过40%的双相情感障碍患者最终选择了自杀。即使到了现在,由于这个疾病而丧命的人数也极为震惊。

双相患者都知道那个黑暗时刻。我们孤独。我们害怕。我们感到整个世界的重量都压在我们身上而且我们再也不能带着这份沉重迈出一步。在那时,胜过其他任何时刻,我们必须明白这不是世界的本来面目。不祥之感并不是我们真实的思考。这可怕的负担以及对于黑暗的渴望也不是我们的想法。它们是大脑额叶、神经细胞成长速率、神经细胞髓鞘脱落的改变的产物。在那黑暗时刻,我们被羁押在这种疾病产生的思绪造就的虚假的囚笼中——这种疾病改变了我们大脑的正常功能。如果我们那时死了,那就是疾病的胜利。

在加利福尼亚的海滩上,我黑暗的时刻来到了。但这次不同,我已在抑郁和混合发作之间起起伏伏长达六个月。三天内,我已经能够跑完了从堪萨斯到这个海滩的全程,这是我有名的公路旅行之一。之后,我花了一周巡游北加利福尼亚。虽然我一周在绕加利福尼亚的村庄,但是我的意图是清楚的。在我汽车的后备箱里有专门为这次旅途而买的一把来福枪。我甚至买了一辆破汽车并且把我家里更贵的一辆卖了来填补这笔开销。

当我找到这个海湾时,我不知道那天是星期几。它在Mendocino北部,是一座漂亮的马蹄形海,有着高耸的悬崖和狭窄的出海口。我在海滩上逗留了几个小时。巨大的火山熔岩散落在附近,在右边有一个极小的山洞。我决定在此了结此生。

我进入Mendocino,然后在那里混了一下午。我换了一身,并不确定我在做些什么。我知道我在酒店餐厅吃了晚饭。我记得这些是因为我有过一场松松垮垮的有关是不是要放弃自杀去定个酒店房间的思想斗争。此刻,即使我有钱了,并不是说这会造成一些不同。

那夜,当我返回海湾时,已经相当晚了。我把自己安置在一块大石头上,手里握着来福枪,兜里揣着遗书。那时,我不了解阿波罗13号,所以明亮的月光直接照耀在上空包围着我。这还是满月刚过去一两天,我能看见褐藻浮在水下。那是多么光明啊。

我立即开始哭泣,哭得满脸泪花。我哭是因为我的灵魂正在反抗另一个催促着我死亡的灵魂——由我的疾病所引起的催促。在我内心,决心油然而生。我告诉自己,无论何事,都不要去死。我告诫自己要活着。害怕与悲伤的眼泪化作了宽慰与对部分生活的悲痛。我曾败给了这个病。逐渐地,我愤怒起来。如果我不想死,那么我拿把枪战在加利福尼亚的海滩上干什么!是什么驱使我这样?
虽然直到下一次患上严重的抑郁前,我并未得到治疗,但这是第一次醒悟,我在我与疾病间划出区分。同时,这是给我动力寻找帮助的时刻。

我不记得何时进入梦乡了,但是几小时后,我在岩石上醒来。天很冷,火山岩并不让人舒服。我的右脚踝受伤了,因为我压在了自己的脚上。月亮正要沉到海面下,水面的漫射像走道倚着月儿。我没走向它。我撕毁遗书,坐到车里,发动引擎。 剩下的夜,我在路边睡了,拿没烤过的冰比萨当早餐。
我不知道为什么我突然决心活下去。难道是更强的动力作用了?因而,后来我能够把我的女儿带到这个世界?抑或是小脑中的一些额外的血管活性肽作用了?我不知道。我所确实知道的只是我还活着。我有这个病不是我的错,但是我让这个病杀了我或其他我能使他避开它的的人,那我就该被咒骂了。

我知道真实的自我从不想杀了他自己,自杀观念都是由疾病引起的。正如患肺炎会让你咳嗽,患双相会让你虑及死亡,总之,那不是你,那是疾病。

大量自杀边缘的平凡人最终致电当地执法,以防止他们自己彻底的结束自己的生命。有用的,能帮助你的的医务人员和警员是了解心理健康支持的。如果你正站在危机的门槛上并且等不及呼叫你的医生、当地精神卫生中心或是一个宗教领袖,那么合上书拨打911或是当地的紧急求助电话。我愿你活下去。我不能相信你离希望那么近却无动于衷。如果你需要帮助,立即行动起来。

Chapter 7 The Moon's Bay͟
I don't want to write this chapter, but Ifeel it is important. In the 1940s, before the advent of modernmedicine, more than 40% of people with Bipolar eventually committedsuicide. Even today, the number of those who lose their lives to thisdisease is staggering.
All of us who have this Bipolar know ͞thedark hour.͟ We are alone. We are afraid. We feel that the whole weightof the world rests upon us and we cannot carry it one step further. Inthat hour, above all other times, we must know that this is not whatthe world is truly like. The foreboding thoughts are not what we reallythink. The terrible weight and craving for darkness are not ourthoughts. They are the products of changes in the frontal lobe of ourbrains, in the rate of neuron growth, in the shedding of the myelinsheath around our nerve cells. We are, in that dark hour, locked in afalse prison built of thoughts produced by this disease ʹ a diseasethat has altered the very function of our brains. If we die in thathour, the disease wins.
My darkest hour came on a beach inCalifornia. I'd taken one of my famous road trips, all the way fromKansas to the coast in three days, then spent a week cruising northernCalifornia. This time was different. I had been back and forth betweendepression and mixed episodes for six months. Although I beat aroundthe California countryside for a week, my intent was clear. In the backof the car was a rifle I'd purchased especially for this occasion. I'deven bought an old junker car and left my more expensive one at home tobe sold to cover the bills.
I don't know what day it was when Ifound the bay. It is somewhere North of Mendocino; a beautifulhorseshoe bay with high cliff walls and a narrow outlet to the sea. Iplayed around on the beach for a few hours. There were large lava rocksscattered here and there and a small scoop of a cave off to the right.I decided this would be the place.
I went into Mendocino andfiddled around that afternoon. I was wearing an Other and I'm not surewhat I was doing. I know I ate dinner at a restaurant attached to ahotel. I remember this because I had a flimsy internal debate aboutwhether or not to skip the whole suicide thing and get a hotel room. Ididn't have the money, not that it would have made a difference.
Itwas fairly late at night when I went back to the bay. I set myself upon a large rock, rifle in hand, suicide note in pocket. I didn't knowabout Apollo 13 then, so the significance of the bright moon shiningdirectly overhead was lost on me. It was only a day or two from full. Icould see kelp tops underwater. It was that bright.
I began to cryalmost at once. I cried because the soul that is me was rebellingagainst the urge to die that was not me, an urge created by my disease.As I cried, the tears changed. From somewhere inside, a sense ofdetermination appeared. I told myself, in spite of everything, I wasn'tgoing to die. I gave myself permission to live. My tears of fear andsorrow became tears of relief and also grief for the part of life I'dalready lost to the illness. Gradually, there came anger. If I didn'twant to die what the hell was I doing on a beach in California with agun? What was driving this?
Although I would not get intotreatment until the next time I got seriously depressed, this was myfirst moment of awakening; a separation between me and the disease.This was the moment that gave me the power to seek help.
I don'tremember falling asleep, but I woke up on that rock several hourslater. It was cold and lava rocks are not very comfortable. My rightankle hurt where I had been lying on my foot. The moon was laying lowover the sea and her reflection was like a sidewalk out to her. Ididn't take that walk. I tore up the note, got in the car and starteddriving. I slept the rest of the night on a roadside somewhere else andhad an uncooked frozen pizza for breakfast.
I don't know why I gotthe sudden will to live. Higher power? So I could later bring mydaughter into the world? A little extra Vasoactive Peptide in theCerebellum? I don't know. What I do know is that I'm alive. It's not myfault that I have this disease and I'll be damned if I'm going to letit kill me, or anyone else I can keep away from it.
I know thatthe real me has never wanted to kill himself. My suicidal thoughts werecaused by a disease. Having pneumonia will make you cough. HavingBipolar makes you think about death. It's not you. It's the disease.
Alot of folks who are on the edge of suicide end up calling local lawenforcement in order to prevent themselves from carrying thorough withending their lives. Paramedics and police officers know the mentalhealth supports that are available and can help you. If you arestanding at the dark doorway and can't wait to call your doctor, localmental health clinic or a religious figure, put down this book and call911 or the local emergency phone number. I want you to live. I can'tbear to think that you would get this close to hope and not make it. Ifyou need help, go get it right now.
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发表于 09-1-26 23:21:46 | 只看该作者
要有死灰复燃的信心,凤凰般涅的美丽
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