I’ve been trying to get myself out of the suicide trend for a few years. I’m a diagnosed bi-polar, I’ve lived most of my life in poverty, in “a rich country” of Canada. I’ve done many therapies and tried many drugs, but it’s all quackery. what’s Quackery you say? it’s treating the symptoms not the causes. the causes are attachments to others, lack of stable/gainful income, stable food/roof, and women, god women. just god awful bitches every where I look.
I had an idea in my head that maybe if I could suffer my entire life and be in such darkness the opposite could be true. I could thrive, I could flourish, and for a time it worked. Notice I said worked. relegated to past terms, now I find myself worse then before and only seeing one option out.
Everyone in my life is concerned for me, but there pity doesn’t make me feel any better. The first place I called “home” since I entered foster care I now have to leave. Ever since that bomb dropped I’ve been hopelessly depressed. It was suppose to be august 1, but it’s seeming the sooner the better. and I get it. I’ve been depressed for several months on and off and I think they’re at there breaking point with having me around.
getting texts like…
have you found a place?
are you looking?
have you put out any ads?
which makes me feel very welcome.
I’ve been shut down in my room for about 8 weeks, I was running my own business which to say the least has collapsed. I’m a handsome man, for a time I had this energy working in me that was leading me out of this darkness. Then I had this thought, this creeping ache, why bother. really, I’ve been single for years, I’m not even close to over the woman I last lived with that coincidentally left me with nothing oh wait, she left me with a pile of debt. Which to this day is still not fully paid off four years later. The only things I got in the separation was the garbage she didn’t want and she blackmailed me for it via a storage locker.
I under went major panic attacks, PTSD aka Shell Shock which is a much more fitting description. loss of all social contacts, loss of my home, and ultimately everything that had any meaning. I remember having to work a job I hated to just be able to eat. every day I’d go in promising myself I’d end it soon, but I’d just come home and cry. then I did just as I’m doing now, why bother…I shut down for about 8 weeks. locked out away from a world that’s kept me in the reject pile as long as I’ve been alive.
My previous attempts include cutting/pills/hanging/electrocution/suffocation. I did succeed with liver failure via the pills but it healed. I just don’t get it, I’m not able to improve my situation, and I’ve tried so many times in so many ways but it’s a no go. the only reason I haven’t acted on my latest idea of charcoal bbq in my car parked in front of some rich f**k faces place. is the idea that I’ll do what I’ve done before in harming myself but not succeeding in the end goal of non-existence.
here’s a question, if you can’t fix it, if you can’t find a way, why suffer?
if you have a better idea I’m willing to listen. the latest round of are you moved out yet texts, has prompted me to put together the kit and figure out how to max out the CO ppm to quick death versus slow and painful.
6 comments
I understand your story all too well. I have written my story earlier today, and there are lots of similarities between you and I. I also live in Canada and am working a dead end job. I don’t have much money though I have a bit saved for maybe a vacation. I also want to use the money I do have to try the helium method for suicide. I want to research throughly so that I have enough information and do not fail. What I would like more than anything is an old car and use it for CO2 poisoing. However I don’t have a license so from what I understand it would be difficult for me to purchase a car to use this method.
the helium method was my idea of choice till I talked to a few friends in the medical side of things. it doesn’t always work, I tried CO2 again doesn’t work as often as you’d like.
CO aka Carbon Monoxide works well, and the method I was researching over the last little bit seems promising if that’s such a thing. people use tents, cars, sealing up there room. CO needs to be at toxic levels to go quickly, going slowly can lead to surviving with life long issues.
I actually read your post earlier and felt like voicing my own as a result of that. I’m tired of not being able to say anything with out getting the jesus cock down my throat or “cheer up” and then these ass hats just ignore you.
but then again depression clouds the mind, and I know it’ll pass, I’m just tired of the cycles, and they’ve been going on since I was a kid. you want a cure for depression, cover living expenses and food. that’ll take the urge to off yourself out. then set up groups and support. they have some support here, but I want some results, I want some means to cure this rather then turn me into a numb cocked zombie.
2Oblivion: God, that was an effective life-summary. You asked, “if you can’t fix it, if you can’t find a way, why suffer?” I’ve been looking for the answer to that question for a very, very long time. And neither the brightest nor the wisest minds have ever offered reasons that were even slightly compelling to me. Too, they’ve been consistently and painfully wrong in predicting that things would change for the better if I would only stick it out. Things have only gotten far, far worse.
I have the idea that we humans just don’t matter–like everything else. We happen to hurt, like countless other animals, but unlike them (I think), culturally we feel we (or those we care for) *shouldn’t* hurt. As best I can reason, life (capital-L) isn’t aware and so can’t care that living things hurt. And there are not solutions for every problem.
I think you are correct, ultimately, in the line of reasoning implicit in what you’ve shared. I wish I had a way to take away your pain. Do you mind two questions? If you were satisfactorily (to you) employed, would you still want to leave? How about if you found a woman whom you admired and loved–and who returned these feelings to you, would you still want to leave? I’m not trying to sway you, just to understand better what minimum requirements you have for continuing.
By the way, I’m not feeling generous towards those who’re encouraging you to move out… Peace, man.
if I had a woman that I respected and looked up to…
if I had sustainable and growing income…
I still wouldn’t have an answer as to why me, why do I get this shit.
I still would probably feel alone in the world and isolated.
I’ve had tastes of success, I have made major changes, the things I find is the only thing that is certain is suffering, everything else is like making a jump for the hoop, yeah if you practice and try and try and try… till the end of time you’ll get a little bit.
but man, one bad day becomes one bad week and then a few months and bam, worse off plus all the effort of the last few years.
In my head there should be a means to exist and enjoy it, and sometimes I find that, then the harshness of fucking money, and the unenlightened masses hording and pushing for there space.
I belong in a time with swords and barbarians, and after I’ve slayed the masses I too could be slayed and at least there would be some sense to this shit. and a little adventure.
A time with swords and barbarians, huh? That appeals to my affinity for sci fi/fantasy… Seems like you’ve concluded that without some inner conception of purpose, you feel you’d be suicidal regardless what else you have in life. I understand–and thanks for being honest with me. Like you, I feel no matter how my life changes externally, I’d still feel irrepressibly lonely. Not that you feel this way, but for me self-loathing permeates all my being–and that, years of reflection have brought me to conclude, is why I have to leave. So as much as I can, I get what you’re saying, “there should be a means to exist.”
So, how do you get through the moment-by-moment pain of existing still? How do you get to the last moment of consciousness of each day?
you must be of similar age. I’m 33 and yes I enjoy sci fi / fantasy. I’m also a lucid dreamer, and in my dreams I have everything, it’s waking up that sometimes throws me for a loop. I’ll have these great dreams and then wake up and I’m in my not so great life. I remember this most tauntingly when I was in kid jail and I had this dream that I got all these presents for xmas, I was released, and I living with my family again… Then bam waking up to a locked room, where I’m asleep on gym mats, and though it is xmas, no gifts are waiting for me. not one.
as for loneliness, that’s what usually drives my thoughts of suicide. Even when I’ve been lucky enough to have miserable relationships I’ve still found myself alone in the crowd. I’ve had ideation since I was a kid, my dad died when I was young and that’s when my first memories start. after working with my third psychologist, and getting my business going, and being in toastmasters I for once, had lost the offing myself fixation, and for a time I thought maybe I could cure this depression. The self loathing to the situation I’m in now hasn’t been this heightened in years.
back in april 2011 I decided I was going to die anyways, after a failed low hang, and there was nothing I could do about that. so I might as well go out and live, and that’s what I did. and again for a time things went well.
purpose/meaning/a reason is the only thing I’ve ever found to drive me out of these states, and it lasts for a time, at first I’d set little goals and I’d reach them, then I’d be depressed because I didn’t know what to do next. then I thought I had to have a higher reason, so I made bigger goals and for a time I had drive and direction, then the goals were too big and unattainable. really all goals are is a temporary distraction, something to distract the mind from the vacuum of life. and that’s the rub isn’t it, if you can’t be happy standing still, and your body and mind have limits, what should you do?
as for dealing with moment-by-moment pain of existence, generally it’s escape. womanizing, weed, video games, food, endless masturbation. something that feels good and distracts me from my life.
the more wholesome ones cost money, yoga, going to the gym, dinner with friends, taking a class.
if you gave me endless money aka independent wealth, I could hire a coach, I could have a stable place to live, I could have stable food, and I wouldn’t be so afraid to go outside.
all the time I’m worried about being homeless so I don’t spend a dollar. I actually have my suicide attempt on a t-100$ count down, which shamefully isn’t that far away.
I’ve tried so many things and all I know at this time, is things go up and down, round and round, and the glue that makes life worth while is deep relationships, which I literally run from, when people get too close to me, I get panic attacks, and this current situation is a result of me trying to be close with people.
catch 22 if there ever was one. and I’m just tired of explaining that though my awareness is increasingly high, my ability to “fix” my situation has always been out of my reach. that’s why before I ended my life I decided to reach out and try what I could.
after a few years of effort I’m marginally better off, with a foot closer to homelessness which is what I fear most. which isn’t really true, I fear people most, I know how they treat the homeless, which makes me terrified of that outcome.