I still feel like my life is over, and as such, it makes no sense that I continue to breathe and consume resources. Am I suicidal? Sometimes. Not as much as I was a few months ago. I’m giving time a chance to do its thing. Pain is easier to compartmentalize now, and I like the meds I’m on. I function. I’ll never be happy again, per se, but I can get by. Everyone else on here has a worse life than I do. Suicide is more of a fantasy I don’t want to let go of. A coping mechanism. I’m tired of thinking of my weird behaviors as “coping mechanisms,” though; rather, they’re just things I do now because this is what I am.
I don’t read every post and I don’t usually have much to say to the ones I do. But… I still like hanging out here. Maybe that’s one reason I don’t want to let the suicide thing go. I feel more comfortable around people who are hurting than people who are living a life I can’t. I can’t go back to Facebook (yuck, no loss there) and now I’m thinking even my beloved 8-year blog I’ve abandoned for 2 months might need to be laid to rest permanently. I’m too ashamed and it’s too painful. No one would like what I am now, they want me to be the way I was before… and I can’t. Even if I could, why would I want to — that person sucks. At least here, no one gives a shit. It’s okay to be broken.
7 comments
“Suicide is more of a fantasy I don’t want to let go ofâ€
I get that. I wonder about my own dark thoughts, a coping mechanism that doesn’t cope, becoming more and more a part of me. I wonder about fate, it feels like fate, at the mercy of the gods.
By the age of five, through nature and nurture our code is pretty much been written, we had so little say in how we were shaped. How we will experience and react to the life’s moments doesn’t change much. New, job, partner, hobby… the inner self remains…. me.
When is it ok to be ok with whom we have discovered ourselves to be? Where does this shame for who we are come from when so much has been shaped for us? Why do we care and need others to approve? Is that why were so tired?
“No one would like what I am nowâ€
These words haunt me. “no one would like me  I don’t even like me. Maybe that’s why were so tired?
When is it ok to be ok with whom we are?
Still you might be surprised? There are so many of us to which suicide is a fantasy. I wonder what insights your blog might reveal if you let it speak your truth, if you wrote it for yourself from yourself. You might not get to know the people you touch, who relate and experience love in your truth… that would be something, I think.
Everyone is broken, some have better glue, but we are all broken. I hope you continue to write
I struggle with that, with how we were formed so young… and how as we grew our experiences continued to shape us and cement our personalities… if I can understand why I am the way I am, that’s all well & good, but I can’t seem to do anything practical to change what’s wrong. And change my course.
It IS tiring, trying to be liked. I don’t want to have to try online as well, I suppose. Most people think I’m sweeter than I really am (in person, at least… harder to gauge people’s thoughts online). That’s what I want them to think. Yet I hate myself for “lying” to them. I wonder how nice I truly am vs. how nice I want everyone to think I am. Where is the truth?
I actually started writing a really long blog post about the suicidal thoughts and odd behaviors… but I titled it “unposted” and saved it on my computer instead. I still mess around with editing it sometimes. Maybe I’ll eventually post some version of it. I think some of those people might unfriend me if I posted it the way it is now. But… some of them would appreciate the honesty, too.
Anyway. Thanks for encouraging me 🙂
Hang in there. Please don’t identify yourself with the weird behaviours; compartmentalize them as coping mechanisms. My girl did that a long time ago, so for her she is her behaviours. It’s pretty intractable at this point.
I had a chance to read your old posts and comments. You sound so much like her it’s uncanny, but you are older (from what I gather) and episodic. The only major difference is that the MDD has never been managed, the ED only for a short time years ago, and the addictions in remission for only a few years. Antidepressants have never worked except to flatten her moods a bit. The prescription narcotics, Ativan, and Seroquel are more effective than the SSRIs or tricyclics. Even the addictions worked better. You both say the same things, but in addition she’s said, “I’m done” and “I’ve ruined myself.”
What breaks her heart is hearing stories about how 95% of depression in society is not real. What about the 5% who it’s real? What’s being done about that? You see, she really wants to live but doesn’t know how to do so. Nothing’s working.
So, don’t let it take hold of you. Don’t become the illness. Thanks for listening.
I kinda like that I sound like her. There’s a mini-me out there somewhere!
95% is not real? O.o I wonder who gets to decide that. I’ve often wondered if mine is “real,” but hey, if the therapist and psychiatrist say it’s real enough, and I’m not doing a snow job on them, then okay. It’s not chronic, though. And I’m not sure what’s due to low self esteem vs. “true” depression… whatever, I just know I’m crying less these days but nowhere near what anyone would consider “happy.” How many people get to be happy, though? Why should I get to be when others don’t?
Thank YOU for listening. I hope you find a way to help her through this, or help her find the strength to do it herself <3
I hope you start writing again, whether it is in your old blog, or you start a new one, or maybe you take a writing class and start writing stories for publication. Write whatever feels genuine to you. I would read it.
Aww thank you — I love to write, am constantly journaling, used to write creatively (for fandom mainly)… also wrote bad poems in my youth but I’ve soured on poetry altogether now… I should find more places to plant myself, though. Maybe a new blog, like you said.
Addendum
I started a “Member’s Diary” on suicideforum which isn’t interactive like a blog, but people can read it if they want to. I like that I won’t feel obligated to read others’ diaries (no one would even know if I did), but can if the mood strikes me, or if any in particular resonate with me and I wish to follow them. Still gonna babble in my private journal too. Hopefully the itch will feel scratched.