I feel suicidal today but not in the ways I have felt in the past. I know this will pass, it does, every time I think I can’t make it another minute, hour or day, I wait. It does pass, I do not want to stop being here, never seeing my dog’s loving face, my kids, the grandchildren I might someday have, never laughing my ass off because I am watching something so funny like The Marx Brothers, or Monty Python, hearing or reading a funny letter or joke. I love fruit, I can’t eat much of it with IC, but the thought of never having the taste of a ripe orange on tongue again, well that isn’t alright, I need to taste that again
I have attempted suicide 4 times. Fortunately none of these attempts were successful, I caught myself in time and got some medical help. However there have been 3 instances when I was medically dead, from heroin overdose. I am alive to write about it, that there was nothing there, no dream, no white light, no realization that I wasn’t realizing anything–just nothing, no recollection afterward of the time when I wasn’t alive when I was brought back to life. There was no consciousness of the incidents, only profound relief that I was alive, even if I was still terribly depressed.
I am needed. I don’t know necessarily by whom it is that I am needed but I know I am, even if only for my dog, who depends completely, trustingly on me.
I feel depressed enough at times to consider suicide, even right now as I am writing this I am thinking of it because I am in so much pain, physical pain, that it seems like there is no quality of life for me. What I know for certain is that I do not know what tomorrow will bring, no one does. If they ell you they do they are only guessing, basing their statements on what has transpired in days past, assuming it will be the same. It may very well be the same but it might not be the same either, it depends upon the choices we make.
My advice–me with the scars on my wrists, the memories of taking so many pills and having my stomach pumped, of having to go to the psych ward afterward and being sent home the following day because of course I was alright–my advice is to wait it out. Find something funny to watch on TV, rent a movie that makes you laugh, or even one that makes you cry. As long as you can still feel something, laughter, pain, sorrow, anything at all, you are better off than not being able to feel anything, without the capability to even know you are dead. Once you do it there is no going back. It is permanent. Your death would be a waste of the gift of life.
I feel somewhat suicidal today, not depressed, suicidal. Just tired of being in pain. But my death would be in vain, I couldn’t help or be helped if I were gone. And I would be gone–just gone.
Wait it out. Laugh about something. There is no reason to stop now, not when you do not know what will be in your life in the future.
Eat some fruit!!
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Once I read, and have embraced as best as I can for my own life:
Some are called to die for others; the rest of us are called to live for others.
Also, there is a verse in the Bible that is similar in message: “You are not your own, you are bought with a price.”
When my desire to live is less than my desire to leave, I think of these things, and of the people who count on me and whose lives would be deeply and sadly affected if I left prematurely by my own distorted decision. My 83-yr-old mom has seen enough, and if anyone needs me it’s her. I help her etc, but what she needs from me the most is that I give her reason for joy, rather than cause her more pain. (She, like the rest of the family, is devastated still over the suicide of my 24-yr-old Marine, Daniel, who served two grizzly tours in Fallujah, Iraq, and took what was left of his life less than a year after honorably discharging from the Marines.)
You are also choosing life, Nicole, and choosing to “live for others.” God bless you in your crucial choice. I, for one, am so glad you are here, as a mom who lost her son. In escaping our own pain, we sentence many others to bear ours AND theirs for the rest of their lives.
Blessings,
Mary
maryligon@wordpress.com
Two years ago almost to the week, I tried to kill myself three times in one day. I remember it like yesterday. Loaded a gram into my first shot, pulled back, red flow, confirmed hit, push….woke up a few hours later on my bathroom floor in a pool of vomit, alive somehow. So I cried for a few hours. Cried at the failure I was, cried at how much my parents and friends would be hurt, cried for how scared my cat was running around me meowing her head off and rubbing up against me. Then, welp, I loaded up another gram, pulled back, red, push…..woke up collapsed between the toilet and the wall. So what did I do then? You got it, another gram, another suicide shot. But I fucking lived.
One of the main reasons that I’m responding to your post is because I have yet to come across another open addict like ourselves on this site in the, hmmm, eight months or so I’ve been visiting.
I have two questions for you, it would mean allot if you could respond.
First, are you still getting high? I got clean for two months after my suicide attempt that faithful day but now am back to daily use. The fucked up thing is that emotionally I felt a trillion times worse CLEAN than I do now getting high every day. Yes I realize that’s because I don’t have to feel emotions or deal with anything I just bang more dope, but is that really wrong? I mean if that’s what I need not to take my .45 out from under my pillow right now and put a hollow tip through my skull, is it wrong?
Second, I have been doing heroin for five years now. I have seen terrible things because of it. I had a close friend turn blue, vomit, and die in my arms. I have been shot at. I have seen people sell their bodies and souls for a hit. I’ve seen lives ruined, families shattered, fortunes of blood money, large quantities of drugs, jail, rape, wrath, and insanity. Pretty much everything they warned me about has happened. The fucked thing is I LOVE IT. My disgust and hatred for the world is so profound that I love existing in this murky dope world. I love seeing these terrible things in a twisted way. It’s like my personal fuck you to Life, like hey I’ve totally turned my back on you Life and this is how I choose to exist. I guess what I’m getting at is the need for my fixes, the street life, it’s glamorous to me. Whenever I tell people about the time I was clean I compare it to the last seen from Goodfellas. I was like Henry Hill in witness protection. Just another ordinary shmuck standing in line, no more action, just blah. So if you have gotten clean how did you get past this. I am really starting to fear that I will never recover.
I know this is a really old post so not sure if either of you are still on the site but throwing thus out there anyhow. I am suicidal (again) and can’t stop thinking about how I can’t endure this pain anymore. Now that I am 50 I feel like I have seen enough to know that these feelings are always going to come and attack me and that life isn’t worth the pain. I’ve attempted suicide several times before and really want to die right now. Problem is I now have a 9 year old son to whom I am a single mom. Dad is crazy and abusive and can’t take care of him. My parents are way old and cant. I am an only child and so is my darling son. So if I kill myself and feel thus relief that I so crave, wtf happens to my poor son? Oh god, it makes me feel so fucking trapped. So I have come up with an idea to maybe start using heroin. Sort of a compromise between life and death. Does it really make you feel better and make the hurting stop? I don’t know what else to do.