Suicide
I don't know that I will ever be able to go through with the act. I think too much about it. I think about how it would affect my husband. I don't know that it would really affect anyone else. My family already believes I am bound for Hell. I am, after all, a lapsed Catholic in a family of extremely conservative Catholics. I lived with a man for several years before I married him. I will never have children. I do not attend church. And although I have the deepest respect for the Catholic faith, I do not believe.
So suicide would merely confirm what my parents and siblings have always known. Suicide would definitely end the pain for me. I would cause some concern for my friends. But people move on. In a year, no one would remember me. My husband would be devastated. But his kids would take it in stride, maybe even be relieved.
So why can't I do it? God knows I've tried. But I will have to do better than the half-hearted attempts. All I have had are failures. And why is it that a suicide where one kills oneself is "successful", while an attempt that does not result in death is a "failure"? Now I have never had any attempts that ended in hospital. The closest I ever came was with a misfiring bullet. Dragging a razor up my arm has resulted in lovely scars, but I never seem able to cut deep enough. Attempted overdoses result in staring at the bottle in disgust with myself, and never taking the damn pills. Over the years, I have come to realize that I will always be a failure when it comes to suicide. And I know that my desire to suicide is not actually a desire to die, but a need to make the pain stop. I would be quite happy to make it stop any other way.
OK. This is quite rambling. I don't know why I am even talking about this now. I am trying to make a go of it without the meds. The last thing I need is to dwell on suicide. But it is always on my mind. Is that normal? Do normal people think of suicide every day? Do they want to die all the time? Something makes me this way, and I keep thinking that if I can just put my finger on it, those thoughts will disappear.
So I will continue to do the only thing I know. I will act like everything is fine. Try to hide depression and psychosis from all around me. And hope that by living a life that appears sane and normal, I will become sane and normal. Nothing to lose. The worst that will happen is that I will jump off that bridge. And really, that's not so bad.
So suicide would merely confirm what my parents and siblings have always known. Suicide would definitely end the pain for me. I would cause some concern for my friends. But people move on. In a year, no one would remember me. My husband would be devastated. But his kids would take it in stride, maybe even be relieved.
So why can't I do it? God knows I've tried. But I will have to do better than the half-hearted attempts. All I have had are failures. And why is it that a suicide where one kills oneself is "successful", while an attempt that does not result in death is a "failure"? Now I have never had any attempts that ended in hospital. The closest I ever came was with a misfiring bullet. Dragging a razor up my arm has resulted in lovely scars, but I never seem able to cut deep enough. Attempted overdoses result in staring at the bottle in disgust with myself, and never taking the damn pills. Over the years, I have come to realize that I will always be a failure when it comes to suicide. And I know that my desire to suicide is not actually a desire to die, but a need to make the pain stop. I would be quite happy to make it stop any other way.
OK. This is quite rambling. I don't know why I am even talking about this now. I am trying to make a go of it without the meds. The last thing I need is to dwell on suicide. But it is always on my mind. Is that normal? Do normal people think of suicide every day? Do they want to die all the time? Something makes me this way, and I keep thinking that if I can just put my finger on it, those thoughts will disappear.
So I will continue to do the only thing I know. I will act like everything is fine. Try to hide depression and psychosis from all around me. And hope that by living a life that appears sane and normal, I will become sane and normal. Nothing to lose. The worst that will happen is that I will jump off that bridge. And really, that's not so bad.
posted by Stoic Stranger at 3:24 PM
2 Comments:
I appreciate the comment, Hester. Contemplating suicide has been with me since adolescence, and I think will be with me forever. Medication, treatment are solutions, but they are solutions that come with a stigma attached. "Mentally ill" is seen by many as a more shameful diagnosis than any STD. It is certainly treated that way by society, insurance companies, many (but not all) doctors and of course... families. Especially step-families.
Got to agree with hester (I love the literary reference!), and yes, insurance companies and HMOs are criminal the way they treat people with mental illnesses and disabilities. But you really need a doctor who is your ally and advocate. If the one you are seeing and you are at odds, for god's sake, go out of network and seek help elsewhere.
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