This post is really hard for me to write. Not only because I’m not very engaged right now but because I always feel ashamed thinking and talking about suicide.
The past 2 years have kind of been a constant struggle for me mentally. Even with the help of medication, I’ll go through periods where I just question what the point of going on is. Nothing compared to how bad it was in the fall of 2020 but the thoughts are still there.
I talked about it in therapy this week. Well, I didn’t really talk about ‘it’ but we talked a bit around the topic. T told me he understands my fears around hospitalization but he also realizes I’m smart enough to get around things like that if I need to. He told me that not so long ago I promised we would just talk about it. And apparently it’s a promise he’s holding me to.
So I guess we need to have a rather frank discussion about it.
I don’t feel like I’m at the point where hospitalization is necessary. I just feel sad and broken and that it would be better sometimes if I weren’t around. My plan is my plan. I’ve always had one and it hasn’t changed or become more important the last little while, but it’s still there.
The other day I wanted to quit all of my medications. Cold turkey. Even the ones I take to control my lupus. I’m tired of them. There’s too many of them. And part of me secretly wondered if things would even change if I stopped taking them. Would I feel worse if I stopped? Some days that’s hard to imagine. 8 pills with breakfast, 1 with supper and 4 at bedtime so that maybe I can actually get a somewhat decent nights sleep. I’m angry that medication is even a thing for me. I feel like my body is betraying me just like it did all those years ago.
I’m tired of the weight gain. I’m tired of the random dizziness, the odd twitches, the dry mouth and weird dreams although weird dreams are better than nightmares. I’m tired of feeling nothing although I often wonder whether feeling nothing is better than feeling too much all the time. Either one is difficult. And for those who haven’t experienced it, feeling nothing can be quite a painful thing.
I know what I’d be leaving behind. I realize it wouldn’t be fair to C. But sometimes those things don’t matter. Please don’t call me selfish because in my mind, suicide is not a selfish thing. It’s the last line of defense when nothing else seems to work. It tells you that everyone would be better off without you. It tells you that the pain will finally go away. It tells you you will finally escape from everything that you hate about yourself and the world.
So let’s talk about it.
I will tell you how it makes me feel. I won’t tell you that it doesn’t feel like a good option some days. I won’t tell you I have complete control over it. I want you to know what it means for me. Why it’s there and how we deal with it when we’re on our own. I won’t make promises I can’t keep but I will try my best to keep the one promise I made to you.
I promise to talk about it.
Even when I don’t want to.
Even when I’m scared.
Because it’s the only way we will learn to tame the beast that hides deep inside of us.