I don’t want to write about this but I am. And, if you have issues with suicide you might not want to read it. I don’t know how to talk about it so it is going to be extremely awkward. I don’t have any intentions of being inconsiderate or selfish or presumptuous. I’m writing about what has happened to me in the last several days and how I’m feeling. I’m just letting you know that it might be hard for some of you.
I have always felt a great amount of gratitude for one thing in my illness and that has been that I have never been suicidal. In a fucked up way, I suppose I’ve taken great satisfaction in knowing that it’s something I didn’t have to deal with.
Until 4 days ago when my life almost stopped.
I would like to blame it on new medicine.
It wasn’t that.
I would like to blame it on the jackasses in my life.
It’s not them either.
Truth is… I’m just depressed.
Really! Fucking! Depressed!
Never have I actually thought that I could end my life until Monday. I have never paid too close attention to suicide and the struggle that goes through someone’s mind. I have been grateful for that. Frankly it just scares the shit out of me to think about it. It hasn’t ever been my struggle. I do, however, have great sorrow for those who do have or have had to deal with it. But, for me, I have never had the capacity in my brain to go there and so I haven’t.
That was until Monday.
Monday, my life and illness changed.
Now, suicide is a part of me.
Now it scares me even more.
Now I have to deal with the reality of it.
Now it eats at my confidence.
Now it is one of my demons.
It bites at my heels every morning when I wake.
I started the New Medicine dance a week ago last Tuesday. I woke up on Saturday knowing something wasn’t right. I was the King of the World one minute, but couldn’t leave my house the next. Still, while I knew I’d just started medicine I thought the uncomfortable feeling must have been the new meds.
Sunday I had a tournament, got some disturbing news from my Ex and had it out with him. He’s my ex for a reason. And, it’s true. That wasn’t it though. It was just one more confrontation that I didn’t need. Just another smack in the face. Another wake up call reminding me that I need to step out and find other people to surround myself with and that means opening myself up to new people…
But 4 days ago I was on my way out.
No one was coming in.
New people could fuck me up even more…
I couldn’t handle this pain now.
I could inflict plenty of my own.
I didn’t need anyone doing it for me.
That’s where I got stuck.
And, that’s all I could keep hearing myself say.
I am capable of hurting myself …. why do I keep letting others in to do it for me?
Monday I opened my eyes to an entirely new feeling. I realized that the nonstop shrill of fear in my heart… the crazy unexplainable pain in my heart… It wasn’t anxiety. It was DOOM. My brain was telling me that I know longer had a damn thing to offer anyone and at the very same moment it told me that that was complete bullshit! 2 nanoseconds later I didn’t even care about any of it… I just wanted to die! There was a feeling inside of me that danced and fluttered in and around my heart. Picking at my soul so quick that it felt like I was being hurled off a cliff with no bottom… falling and falling and falling…
Over and over…
I cared. I didn’t. I cared. I didn’t.
I was enough. I wasn’t. I was. I wasn’t.
No stopping. No breathing.
Just picking at my soul.
Over and Over…
I kept seeing my Mom and Dad!
I could see them watch me destroy myself
Over and Over
I didn’t want to put them through it anymore!
I was suspended in this place that didn’t make sense anymore!
I was surrounded in this pain!
I was crying and I was screaming!
I didn’t know who to even tell about it!
It didn’t even make sense to tell anyone!
That was what horrified me the most!
I didn’t even want to tell anyone!
Nothing made sense!
I was just sooo done!
Monday I did things that I’m not proud of… To people who didn’t deserve it. Saying I’m sorry CANNOT repair the damage I did. Not a chance. There is no going back. No starting over. What people saw. What they heard. How they felt… They can never unsee. They can never unhear. They can never unfeel.
I cannot continue to blame my illness for hurting people. It’s true that chances are very good that if I hadn’t been sick I wouldn’t have behaved the way I did. I wouldn’t have made the choices I did that day. But, it doesn’t matter. The damage is done to myself and to a lot of people that I love. I cannot imagine what it would look like right now if I had succeeded.
This is the selfish part I referred to earlier… I have to continue to live feeling the physical and emotional pain that I do right now… I have to continue to make choices feeling this way. I fight with God every breath and every step I take. It’s not a pretty fight at all. But, I am taking the steps. I am stringing moments together with the SAME people standing behind me that I hurt and I am having to be incredibly humble in accepting their help in these moments. Looking into their eyes is crazy, CRAZY hard! I want to quit and crawl under a rock somewhere every second. But I can’t.
With that said…
I’m not sure what stopped me on Monday.
I’m not sure what is stopping me right now.
I’m not sure what stops anyone.
I’m still scared to pieces.
I still don’t have the capacity in my brain for this.
I still feel deep sorrow for people who are or have gone through this….
I want to quit every second and every breath I take.
I’m fairly certain I am just too afraid to…
It seems to be enough right now.
And… I think I might just owe to some people…
Suicide sometimes proceeds from cowardice, but not always; for cowardice sometimes prevents it; since as many live because they are afraid to die, as die because they are afraid to live.