Suicidailty and Me

I talk circles around everyone when it comes to my feelings. Most people stand in complete awe, dumb struck to know that my distaste for life, runs deeper than they could possibly comprehend.

What drives my existence is very shallow to be honest. Pain; or rather the ten minutes of pain it would take to hang myself, or any other way to kill yourself; is the scariest part for me. I'm trying to escape pain, after all. Over coming the will to live is the ultimate trial. I marvel at those who have successfully gone before me to release themselves from a agony only others like us can remotely fathom.

It's cliche to repeat, it will be said a lot in this blog, but I've heard it time and time again. . .

"I've been there before Kirsten. I've had dark thoughts rule my life and been at very low points. It does get better. With time and effort."

*sighs* I know they mean well, but....

No, actually you only think you have been at low places. I live there, not occasionally visit. As in: I wake up there. I shower there. I take shits there. I cook and clean there. I hang out with friends there, I work there, I grocery shop there. There is no visitation. This isn't some god damn hellish vacation where one day from years of therapy I will be released from all my symptoms. For me? If I want to continue living, I must suffer by forcing my enemy to become my best friend. I have yet to find another solution.

I am not here to invalidate others feelings or experiences, but do not pretend to know anything about chronic suicidality that has been my every waking life since the age twelve. That's sixteen years. I am 28 and more than half my life I have wished I was dead. Many times I have tried to end it too. I have no idea how I have lived this long. And because I am intelligent, I know that no one is just going to grant me my wish, and so I have come to the conclusion that the only way I am going to get what I want, is doing it myself. So, it's on my to-do list.

The people closest to me know not to interfere with my decisions if and when my fleeting motivation makes itself present. I can name four people who have listened to my deepest, darkest thoughts and honored this strong demand I have. Four.

None of them my professional mental health team.

I must dance around these thoughts to the world, because YOU CAN'T handle my daily thoughts. Dare I say I live a fake life, hiding what really plays on incessantly in my brain. Sure everyone has intrusive thoughts, I'm not special there, but apparently mine send red flags to everyone with listening ears.

If I so much as hint that I have a "plan", even though I always have a plan, police are called for a mental evaluation and I'm handcuffed, taken to the nearest ER. But let me inform you again, I ALWAYS HAVE A PLAN. It's just the time and place that changes. Minor details at best.

So I watch what I say. Manipulating the situation for my benefit, depending on how I am feeling. I'm not always good at this or fully in control. I break down and being so lonely and misunderstood, I have vented to strangers, reaching out for help to alleviate the overwhelming feelings my body makes me feel. Word vomiting of helpless victims of my dangerous inner thoughts. This has never proven to be beneficial. It's never worth the intimidate relief I feel because everything rushes back as the local police, who have my name and address memorized, come knocking at my door. Every. Damn. Time. I'm a frequent flyer. *winks* My flights should be discounted at this point.

I don't know how to solve this equation. Hopelessness is one of many things that weighs heavy on my broken heart.

"But what about the good days, Kirsten? I see you smile, up and out and about. Giving to others. I see you working hard on yourself. Surely not all your days are so bad?"

I know that is what you see, and that's fine. There are days I hide it better and if you want to visualize a happy me, because that makes you feel better, go for it. But the next good day you see me having, PLEASE reach out and ask me if I'd trade it for being dead. I promise you I will, with a smile on my face. But I know you won't do that. It won't cross your mind to do such a thing. You see a smile and you go about your day. Because you secretly don't want to know the burden I carry. You don't want to know that I've never had a moment that is worth the torture that plagues my existence. If there was a pain free way to go, I would have absolutely taken it as a child. No questions asked.

I know by now, if you are still reading, that you may be feeling heavy. Perhaps even sad? And deffinitally concerned for my well being. LOL And I'm over here smiling, content that I am somewhat able to put into cohesive words how I experience daily life. I know my readers will never fully understand, but I appreciate so much that you read in hopes of learning a little more. It means a lot.

I'd love to leave a legacy for mental health education after I am gone. Hell, I'd love for my body to be donated to science and perhaps further the understanding of mental health and how to treat it. We certainly do not have the answers, even if modern mood stabilizers and anti psychotics have given back the lives to millions of very ill people, there hasn't been a working concoction of medications out there that has put a dent in my mental health symptoms for me. And I matter!

My self confidence and self love is not lacking. (at least not anymore) Contrary to what so many others believe about "people like me", not everyone who wants to die loathes themselves. I love myself very much. I have researched and practiced many ways to improve my well being. And I have become a phenomenal person because of it. Feel free to read my previous mental health blogs to learn about all the numerous ways I have sought treatment to alleviate all my personal demons and what benefits it has given. It may sound deranged to tell you but: I believe suicide can be the most self loving thing I could do for myself at this stage. (and for some other people like me)

I truly believe it would be better for me that I am dead. But this is far from a black or white topic, which is exactly why I'm bringing this up at all. We have all been taught that "suicide is wrong." Killing anyone, including yourself is a terrible act and leaves those around you in immense pain. But I will scoff at that last one, because while it true, there isn't one important person in my life that doesn't know I will one day kill myself. *sighs* I'm not saying that you can ever prepare yourself for the devastating news that a love one has died or took their life; I'm saying no one in my life would be surprised. I talk about it ALL THE TIME. I am an exception to the rules and that's my point. There are exceptions to all rules. Not everything is black and white. And there are more people like me out there!

My suicide would not be for the lack of a well trained team of professionals I have immersed myself in. It's no longer because I don't have people in my life who understand or support me. I do have that!

My suicide would be a product of them failing me. And they are, failing me.

Perhaps now you can see my hopeless a little better now. Not ever seeing a bright light at the end of the tunnel. Because even with a microscope, there isn't one. Maybe my vision is broken. But with my long list of ailments, it wouldn't surprise me any that my sight is a bit blurred.

Indeed the depths of my depression are something others only dip occasionally to. I'd be lying if I said it didn't bring me a little smile to know I'm not alone sometimes. Misery does love company. But so does joy, and I wish I felt it more often. It's really quite strange how constantly drowning trains you to live differently and tints your world view into something nihilistic.

But that's where I am at. I don't know what else I can say. It sucks here bro. No one wants this life.

I won't be occupying the ignorance of those who say "suicide is selfish". Read all my other mental health blogs to find out what I think about people with that opinion and fuck off with that noise. It's not welcome here. Educate yourself, your loved ones deserve a better support network that that toxic bullshit.

"But Kirsten, I really have been where you are. I thought I tried everything too, it took me decades to find a system that worked. I promise you, you'll be happy one day, too. And you will be so glad you stuck it out."

Oh shut up Karen. *rolls eyes* Almost everyone with opinions like that have kids or something that guilts and tethers them to this life. I accept your reality, I also accept mine. And it's okay that they are different. I'm happy you think suffering for 30+ years and that you are finally happy in you 50's that life has meaning. Sincerely, good for you. Your course of life isn't going to look like everyone else's.

So, all or nothing eh?? "If you want your readers to live in the grey, why are you so set on suicide as your only way to freedom?"

Good question! It's not my only way to freedom. I don't believe anyone is truly "free". Todays blog is explaining to you my every day suffering and my seemingly endless battle with it. Suicide is just the most beautiful, solid way that I am aware of that would sucessfully end my suffering.

There is no observable conscious afterlife. That's a fact. Now knowing this brings me comfort on my journey. I use to belong to a cult that told me I'd live forever, but if I took my life, it would be even worse on the other side. Guilting one choice I made "on earth" for the rest of eternity. Just to stay alive for everyone else's gain, not my own. Now that's selfish. Of course I have grown out of guilt tactics. I'm not here to change your mind, but to expand it. There are people who live in ways we have never seen before. Perhaps I am one of those people for you.

The last thing I want to talk about is my current "psychiatrist", aka Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner (PNP). Due to the escalating need for mental health professionals, especially with addiction in this generation, psychiatrists are few and far between. The mental health field is taking a turn and now accepting Nurses who have a focus in mental health as a viable substitute for med management. I am not upset with this, I am meerly informing people of the changes in the field right now! That being said, lets have a hearty laugh at my closing letter from my new PNP.

Above there is a yellow highlighted section of her warning me of the symptoms "returning" if I choose to come off my medication. I find her choice of words demeaning, because our last appointment two days ago, I told her the medication was doing nothing, I felt like I wasn't on anything and was considering leaving her care. I also told her that I was still extremely suicidal and considering another hospitalization. And that's being 5 months back on medication, under her care! Taking the medication faithfully as prescribed. Which is why she decided to add Rexulti. So what a total bitch to tell me my "sucidailty" will return. BWAHAHA, oh sweet summer child, it never left. Stop thinking so highly of yourself, Kim. I really thought I liked you before you said something so unthoughtful and disingenuous. I sure she copied and pasted that script anyways. I'm not stoping my medications because they were helping me. I'm stopping them because they aren't working and are seemingly making me worse. I was better without medication! what a joke!

*sighs*

Anyways, I want more people to know that I'm not the only one out there that experiences life at this intensity and struggles finding suitable solutions. I'm just few of the ones with a loud voice! So listen, and learn. Please.

www.nami.org

Sometimes depression looks like this.