Like most folks, I have my own history and have been through several thought processes about suicide.
I remember for a long time thinking, about people’s suicide, how fkn dare you do this to yourself and put other people through it and then one day, that changed. I understood, you can really hurt that bad mentally.
Once I realized, in my own little bubble, the daily overwhelming despair I go though, can only be covered with a pharmaceutical band aid and I will never get better, I had to learn to redirect and not be around people and situations I hated. Kind of impossible.
Took years to realize how greatly I am affected by things. It’s taking a bit of time too to figure out with a Dr I see, that on top of everything else, we are 95% sure I am also dealing with Premenstrual dysphoric disorder. Yay.
So, I take meds and when they stop working properly, it truly does feel like the end of the world and there is no hope and no reason to go on but luckily I had tried to kill myself when I was 16. My saving grace.
I took a crap ton of my mothers pills and as I started to fade out I forgot what I was doing and only knew I needed to use the latrine, I didn’t want to be found in a puddle of my own urine. Silly, Silly me.
I just had to quietly make it to the bathroom, it was only 10 feet away…I was sure I could do it but I was so pill’d up I was crawling across the wall making all kinds of noise lol….BUT my mother and Step dad figured it out really fast and they took me to the ER making me talk constantly on the way there with all the windows down.
They basically did a bunch of lying and fast talking to the ER folks because otherwise I’d have been admitted to the psyc ward. Ironically, my mother has tried to kill herself 4 or 5 times that I know of.
Anyways…I feel really lucky it happened because it has saved me a few times. Almost bit it again when I was a ballroom dance teacher back in my 20’s.
I was just trying to function like everybody else. You can’t but you learn to work around stuff. However quite often you have a nervous break down. If you don’t get help, everything falls apart, you are irreparably broken, a cracked shell of nothing good.
With any hope, you can tape and glue yourself back together again and carry on best you can…but then all I knew is I wanted to be dead, to not feel anymore.
Now my options are take meds forever and live the highs and lows or take an equalizer, where if it works you don’t feel such a deep low but you no longer will feel any joy.
I think for now, I will just ride the ride. I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other and fantasizing about what it is like to be in someone else’s head, someone – supposedly normal.