When I weigh up suicide, two factors generally seem to carry equal importance:
- I cannot stand feeling like this anymore. I hate being me, being in my head. It’s just this endless loop of regret, longing, despair, fear, self-hatred and shame. It’s not a life worth living, and I can only see it getting worse over the years ahead.
- . It seems unacceptable to put my family in the position of having to mourn my loss. They’re far too invested in my wellbeing, and they’ve done so much to try and help me over the years. I don’t think they’d get over it, and I can see it destroying them. I care more about my own feelings than theirs, but there’s more of them, so it comes out about even.
That leaves other less significant factors, which vary wildly in importance, depending on my mood on any given day. Whether my back pain is bringing me down, and how motivated I’m feeling to pursue meaningful experiences in life.
The trend in my thinking definitely seems to be leaning more towards suicide recently, but then January is generally a pretty low month for me. When spring arrives the balance will probably tip back towards carrying on. Even if it doesn’t, it’s unlikely I’ll actually go through with my plan. I’m too scared of death. I’ll always find reasons not to do it.
So I should probably just resign myself to living, and focus my energy on something more productive…
Except… I can’t stand it. No matter how I try to make myself ok with it, it’s not ok. I’m not ok. And I’m never going to be ok. I cannot live with this reality. It is intolerable. It makes me want to tear this world apart, just to make it go away.
So I will loop, again, and again, back and forth. Until my fear of death is reduced. Or I die of old age. Or someone puts me out of my misery.