How it feels like to think about my own death about once a day
For the past 20 years, I thought about my own demise about once a day. Bipolar depression can do that to you. I was always prone to bouts of melancholia. Someone once wrote that the problem with melancholia is that it kinda feels good. It's addictive. Abandoning all hope is equivalent to abandoning all failure. You're suddenly in power. Eventually came the desire to die. My girlfriend lived in a high apartment and the thought of jumping from the window became a secret obsession. Every time I felt any kind of insecurity, during fights big and small, the window was always there, a reminder of a perfect solution. That's how some call suicide: a perfect solution. Something that cannot be rectified. The ultimate fantasy.
This girlfriend eventually dumped me, and then came another. She was going to another state and I had difficulties relocating. She was a doctor, I was a freelance professional. Two very distinct economic situations. When the move proved impossible, I took a box of pills and threw myself in the pool. Happily, I soon realized that breathing was grossly underestimated, and quickly swam to the surface. That day I decided to live.
This doesn't mean death is not a part of every single one of my days. It's like an addiction for the brain, an automatic response of the unpleasant kind. Lost a job or a relationship? Your brain suggests suicide. Is your Playstation 4 no working? Maybe you should not be living at all. Unemployed? Don't waste time and resources on a futile pursuit! For every single minor frustration that might ruin your day, I may be fighting with the thought of throwing myself in front of a train.
I could, of course, talk to people, but how many people do you know that are able to deal with the fact that their friend/relative/partner/coworker can envision their own death multiple times a day, and for the most mundane reasons?
No, I am not gonna kill myself, this is not a suicide watch. Living is awesome. I like eating, fucking and watching TV shows. I also think a lot about suicide. And it sucks.
I'm sorry that you've had to go through this process for so long. It's tough. And I feel you. I wouldn't describe myself as actively suicidal (at least not right now), but I am a perfectionist, and that quality extends to every aspect of my life such that suicidal ideation becomes a regular—if restrained—thought in my mind. When I encounter a problem, even a minor one, I instinctively think of it like an attempt at a perfect run in a video game. Anything goes wrong? End it. Start over. It's not worth finishing. My boss is a little irritated with me? My entire career is done for, may as well prepare for being homeless. Said something weird in a conversation? Welp, all my friendships are doomed, no point in socializing ever again. You know the stuff.
As much as I value what my brain can do for me, I resent that it leads me down these paths. I often lean into the abyss when I feel this way, wishing for a death that would raise me up above everyone else. (This would happen daily, if not more often, when I was younger. It still happens a lot.) A martyrdom, maybe. Something that would make everyone else feel sorry for my absence, for not talking to me enough, for not having loved me more, for never having apologized. It's a cruel desire, but to a moderately narcissistic person like myself, hanging out near the abyss feels really good. "Woe is me!" Feeling bad for other people is awkward. Other people feeling bad for me is embarrassing. But me feeling bad for me is something totally different. I get all the benefits of attention and none of the drawbacks of public humiliation, because I can come up with my own fantasy about what happens afterward. A grand, tearful, and reverent funeral, my name in the history books, my legacy not only preserved but bolstered by my premature death. "My life is the only thing that matters," negative though the context may be. I rarely seek this feeling out, but I've allowed it to take hold of me too many times and for too long once I've felt an inkling of darkness. The path of least resistance, no?
I practice mindfulness and just generally try to live in the moment, enjoy the little things in life, and express my gratitude for what I do have. That helps a little. But the only thing that stops me from feeling this way is not having problems in the first place, which is obviously not realistic. I want to be flawless. This desire to fix my weaknesses—not to capitalize on my strengths—defines my personal motivation. But it's a deathtrap, because it focuses my attention solely on what I can't do, not what I can already do well. I have a lot of talents, my brain just likes to pretend otherwise. And I can say from the bottom of my heart that this is true for every person in the world. I have never met a person who is incapable of extricating the good from the bad in themselves, and prioritizing the former. You do need a little bit of a kick sometimes, though. For me it's therapy and a lot of hobbies. For others it may be a piece of media, or a pet, or a really good friend. Something to remind yourself that the world is not a place of darkness.
Life is a beautiful thing. I take solace in the meaning I find in art, the good times I've had (and continue to have) with my family, the more resilient friendships in my life, the visual aesthetics of the world around me, the physical pleasures of the human condition, and the goodness I've tried to spread in other people's lives. I'd never feel sad if I were dead, sure, but I'd also never be able to experience all of these wonderful things either. That's what keeps me going.
I'm happy you're here with us, mrbig.
Thank you very much my friend. I will be. But some days are harder than others.
I know. I'm a suicide attempt survivor myself, so even though I don't have the words for it right now, please understand that I genuinely do know. I know, and I am so sorry you have to experience that pain.
I once visited San Francisco. This was only a short while after my attempt, so it was still fresh and the psychological wound was still a bit raw. I went to the famous Golden Gate Bridge, as tourists do, and I saw that along the length of the bridge there were call boxes for potential jumpers -- each one connected directly to a suicide hotline.
Seeing the boxes gave me a bit of a start. I wasn't expecting to be reminded of my attempt then, and thinking of it still activated a horror deep inside of me. As I walked the length of the bridge I remember noting each call box, wondering how many times they'd been used and whether or not they'd been successful at saving people. I don't remember how many I passed, but one made me fully stop what I was doing.
On one of them, someone had taken a permanent marker and written the words "life is beautiful and I want you to live it". I started crying right there on the bridge when I saw it.
I've got tears in my eyes right now as I revisit that moment in my memory. The person who wrote that note couldn't possibly have known the impact it would have. The person was clearly intending to reach people at their darkest moments, but there I was, healing from mine, and the words nonetheless still spoke to me. The author meant to speak to someone who was suicidal, but instead they connected with someone on the other side -- someone who was learning how to put everything back together after it had all fallen apart. I had recently made the decision to start living my life again, but what I really needed to know in that time was that someone else wanted me to.
I know you're not in that darkest of places right now, but I know it's something you've visited. Just like me, you made it through the other side, and maybe just like me, you need a reminder that some random stranger out there genuinely wants you to live your life. I really do. I cannot convey the depth of that truth in words. I mean it more than anything else I have ever written on this site, and I mean it for you specifically and for anyone else here whose hearts hurt so much they consider stopping. I want those people to live their lives, because life actually is beautiful and everyone -- every single person -- deserves to know that and, more importantly, feel it. I want that, for them and for you, more than anything else in the world.
We are all unique miracles of consciousness. There is no one else like any of us. There is no one else like you. You are the only mrbig we know and the only mrbig we will ever get. It's why I believe that we're lucky! You've chosen this place, of all the places out there, to share your own unique miracle of consciousness with all of us here.
Thank you for trusting us with your miracle. It is beautiful, and I want you to live it.
I was hit by a car about 2 weeks ago. It was not severe, but some people are just more sensitive. My face doesn't work right yet. I can't chew right, or emmit some syllables. The ability to say things precisely and strongly is at the core of my self-esteem. I drool like a British Mastiff sometimes. I still managed to fall further in love with a wonderful woman that feels the same for me and we had beautiful experiences. Life is crazy. I'm scared because I'm taking longer to remember words and brain damage is literally my biggest fear in life -- bigger than death. I rarely cry but I cried three times today. One of them because of you -- you bastard! hahaha-- but that was a good one.
That must be incredibly scary. I've wanted to ask about how your recovery is going, but I haven't wanted to pry nor pressure. If you need a space to let things out, whatever they are, feel free to respond here or send me a PM.
I'm glad we had a good cry together. :)
Also, I went back through my pictures archive, and sure enough, I actually did snap a photo of the callbox.
I'm gonna second what @kfwyre said and say that a lot of the stuff you have contributed to this site is not only valuable in a general level but also in a surprisingly personal level to me. One of the reasons I cited you in the user appreciation thread was not just because you were Brazilian, but because you have ADHD and also believe you have autism, which made me think "this person resembles me", which doesn't happen that often and I found that valuable and important, even if I didn't mention it for fear of focusing too much in who you are and too little on what you do.
You know this platitude I wrote you? I actually mean basically everything I said there and sometimes I genuinely look up to you. While I don't do that too often, mainly because looking up to people isn't very productive and can be pretty parasocial and detrimental if you don't moderate yourself (case in point; your reply), I do care, and while I do not know or feel what you go through and have only felt seriously depressed for political reasons, I enjoy and value your presence on a pretty personal level and I don't want it to go away.
my depression and yours come in at different angles (anxiety disorder and bipolar disorder) but arrive at the same location.
one thing that has helped me is meditation, and in particular a meditation called metta, or loving-kindness.
Thank you for sharing this. I'm also happy that you're still here :)
Can I ask you to expand on this? I'm sure it probably isn't the easiest thing to explain, but whatever you can come up with will help.
That is actually quite literal but English is not my first language. The act of breathing is extremely pleasurable in itself, and not-breathing extremely unpleasant. My sudden realization of this very obvious fact overcame any suicidal tendencies I had at the moment.