Less than a year ago I decided to end my life the other day. I haven’t had a plan and haven’t thought about it much, or at least, seriously. But that day I woke up and felt ready. Finally.
I was supposed to go to my psychologist that day, but I was so frustrated to the fact that nothing changes. I’m still depressed. How exactly is it gonna help me talk about it?
I was on the bus on my way to the clinic and planned my little escape. I always carry with me enough pills to overdose. I call it ‘my suicide kit’. You know, for days like this. So, as I entered the clinic I was twenty minutes early for my session and that was enough time to get to the toilets and lock the door.
I took out of my bag about forty 0.5 mg Xanax pills and thought Salvation. There was either my greatest mistake or my greatest choice when I thought about my brothers and goodbyes.
Immediately I phoned them both. First there was my oldest brother. The second he answered I started crying. I haven’t cried for six months before that, so it was relieving and nice. I couldn’t stop, and it only felt better. Then my less older brother answered. I was still crying. He thought I was joking at first.
I thought a damned thought: I have to stay alive. If not for myself then for the sake of my brothers. They don’t deserve that, losing their brother, with a chance of falling into the same path. No.
There’s not much of an ending to this story obviously, because I’m still alive and writing this, but even though I haven’t took a single pill, I look at that as a suicide attempt, because I was determined than ever.
3 comments
I have to say, I’m a little confused. I mean, you say you wanted to kill yourself, yet I cannot think of a worse place to make a suicide attempt than a few metres away from psychiatric help. Also, you didn’t take any of the pills and immediately called your brother, who is apparently part of your support network.
Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great you didn’t do it and chose to call your brother instead, but it seems to me that maybe some part of you really doesn’t want to die, despite what you think on the surface. The road to recovery from depression is not easy and it’s long and it’s a struggle, and I found that sometimes, you need to change the way you see things.
First of all, though, I think it’s important to acknowledge that what you want is not to die, but for the pain to stop.
Yes, I know that now. Back then I guess it was supposed to be a call for help, though I wasn’t aware of that. I know I want to live to the limit before I take my life.
I have to say, and please don’t take this to be facetious or flip – it seems to me that carrying a “kit” with you might mean you need something other than or beyond having the immediate ability to end your life without notice. It’s just something you might want to think about. The decision process or maybe more appropriately put the “resolve” to end one’s life doesn’t come fully into play. It’s more like the spy and the cyanide capsule; an irreversible escape for an emergency situation.
I’m not really sure why the concept is unsettling to me except that I strongly feel that carrying the kit is in some way meeting an unseen need that could be met with something other than killing yourself. I know, my intuitions sound screwy sometimes but I sincerely hope you can take a step back and take brief look at the bigger picture; maybe you will come to a different conclusion.
-peace