I’ve been grappling for weeks. This isn’t my first time down this path, I’m a pro at weathering them (but for an attempt in my early 20s when I didn’t know better). Â Right now I’m losing the battle. Â I’ve decided to concede, if nothing else for the peace it instantly brings me. Â But two things are really pissing me off about this right now.
1. Â Someone cares, pick up the phone, call them, they’re all going to be so devastated when you go, blah blah blah. Â Screw that. They all know. Â They know I’m a mess. Â Granted they’re not mind-readers, they don’t know that I’ve crossed over again in the last two days. Â But ya know knowing that I’ve been bone-crushingly depressed and massively suicidal on and off for two+ months now, you’d think maybe they’d frickin check in every few days. Â And if they oh truly cared so goddamned deeply they would. Â Yeah, I’m sure they’ll be bummed if I decide to go. Â But you know what? Â I’m gonna die of something and I’m not gonna just hang out on life support like Terri Shaivo because you’re uncomfortable with my suicide. Â Which leads me to rant 2
2.  This is the one form of death where I am afforded no dignity.  I cannot find medical care support for my choice to leave.  I cannot say goodbye to people I love.  I have to do it in secrecy and shame.  It’s under a cloak that I have failed somehow and am behaving inappropriately.  Screw that.  Truly, why is it different that I die of suicide – which is escaping unbearable pain – at middle-age than it is of anything else.  For a while I actually thought about pretending I have a terminal illness just so I could say goodbye to people (especially my grown children) and have a nurse or someone hold my hand while I go.  The logistics because absurd  It angers me I don’t get that on my own with where I’m at.  Because I am a bad girl.  Oh F that.
The less-than-thinly veiled hostility toward people who kill themselves leaves me livid. Â Whatever, I’ll be dead and won’t care anymore. Â But can you imagine if you were dying of heart disease or something and there was all this weird judgment and animosity and secrecy imposed on your death.
We’re born, we die. Â It’s part of the deal. Â Your death is no more righteous than mine.
3 comments
Wow…I could not have said it better. I hope/know there is some brain on sp who can respond like only they know how, to your post. I hope you understood me. You are me!!!
The world is so fucked up isnt everyone suicidal? Oh no cause theres fake fucken greedy people.
Fake fucking greedy people don’t bring me down. I just have a brain that misfires. I’ve been on medication for 30 years and in therapy longer. I blah blah blah. It’s all just stopped working. I’m on my third dr in three months to get it straightened out and it’s just not happening. And I’m done. I’ve only made it this long because of my children. At 25 and 21 it won’t affect them the way it would have if they were 15 and 11. They’re adults and have created meaning in their own lives and an ability to form real connections with others.
If this weren’t such a stigmatized way to die, if I could say goodbye properly, it wouldn’t wound them the way that it will. But what’s the choice, I do my smiling Teri Schaivo act for another thirty or forty years so as not to traumatized them? Sorry, but enough is enough.
Chase12, thanks for the love <3