For me, I think of suicide when my emotional pain is starting to mount. I know I’ve been through this thought process before, which means I know the choice I made before and why I made that choice and the consequences of that choice.
When I think about it now, I understand it as a sign of severe pain, but not as something I could actually do, even if I start thinking about how I would do it. I always come up with objections to the plan. At least, so far I have.
At this time of year, it’s easy to go after myself. Easy to feel like I fucked up and I will always fuck up and so what’s the point, really? Then I get into the worthlessness script. Then the idea that everyone would be better off without me. Finally the where to get a gun script.
Only I know it’s a sham. I know I’m indulging myself. I know it’s because I hurt so much and I can’t talk about it, except for one person, but it was my choice to stop talking to that person. I think. In the end, it’s just pain.
It feels like a months worth of pain each hour. Surviving one day seems like a miracle. But I’m at fault for bringing this pain on me. I’m ashamed. One more reason to consider it.
So round and round they go, chipmunks on a wheel, spinning off its axis. I talk to no one, hoping someone will figure it out. I think upside down and reverse, and the more I do that, the closer I get to thinking maybe I should put my money where my mouth is.
Pull that trigger (where? Work?) and consciousness (hopefully) will end and that will be that, and there will be nothing else, not even the knowledge of nothing else and it won’t matter what impact it will have on others. I won’t know. Ever. It’s the one-stop shop for all problems.
But life is a gift and once gone, you never get it back. It is an incredible gift, and didn’t you always say (talking to myself) that it was worth any amount of pain? Any amount? Maybe I was crazy when I said that. Maybe I’m crazy now. My psychiatrist always said to not make any major decisions while depressed. Just put them off for three months. It’s a trick. But it works. It gives you an excuse not to act, because you always could act in three months, if you still want to. Of course, I have violated that rule and only made things worse. But just like with death, in life there are no do-overs.
I’m definitely depressed. I don’t even want help. My wife is worried. I’ve not been sleeping. I must want to be like this since I’m not doing anything about it. But it’s my choice which means I don’t deserve help, either. Oh goody. No one better try because I’ll fight them off. Oh shit. Asking for attention by saying you won’t take it? Old trick. Haven’t learned to stop it yet.
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Anyway, that’s how it goes. At least with me. I can tie myself up in mental knots. It’s definitely a conscious thing. I kind of suspect it must be for everyone. I think the thinking of someone thinking about suicide is seriously out of whack, whatever that means. But everyone knows that. What is difficult is understanding how you get there—from the point where the pain becomes overwhelming to the point where you actually have the implement to do it with.
What is the difference between someone who does it and someone who doesn’t? What’s that final little push over the hump to where you become eager to have it be over? Why is it so hard to turn it around and go back home. All it takes is one little thought. One little thought either way. You could be happy in the next hour. You could be dead.