I’m Suicidal But I Do Not Want To Die – TW

Mental health is a hard thing to deal with for anyone. It shows your worst, most vulnerable and confused sides. It makes you do and say things you never thought you would. It makes you push people away and cling onto them at the same time. It makes you doubt you – who you are, your capabilities, your strengths and talents, your whole demeanour is suddenly up in turmoil. It’s a hard thing to cope with every single day and so many want an out. I want an out.

Because the thing is,

I am suicidal but I do not want to die.

It makes me sad – the idea and hope that people could care for me but it’ll only show once it’s too late. I sometimes wonder, who’d turn up to my funeral? I assume my best friends would but what about the guy from my old college class, the girl I had a heart to heart with on a night out, the guy I slept with, what about the people I was friends with and now walk past in the street?

The problem with feeling like this is you have to deal with thoughts that you’d wish on no one. You have to go about your normal life while your brain asks if that ex your not over would care, what would your friends say? Would your parents be surprised if you just made it all go away? What if it was at someone else’s hands rather than your own? An accident? No one could blame you then. You just sit there, feel the world go past you and wonder, even when you don’t want it to happen.

Or maybe to an extent you do. Maybe it’s like you deserve it, maybe then you’ll be worth something, you’ll matter. You’ll matter even more because you’ll survive it. You’ll be the person who almost died and miraculously made it through. You’ll get better and the world will in turn accept you. You’ll accept you.

But instead nothing happens. You don’t feel anymore worthy than you did yesterday. And that in itself is a battle. You have to continue to fight while no one notices, hardly anyone checks in because like everyone, they assume you’re just out there living life. But is this a life?

I’m not so sure, a life with suicidal ideation makes normal day to day, run of the mill tasks strenuous. I wonder what it’s like, to not feel this way. It’s all I’ve known since I was 13 – it’s not always constant but it’s always there, like a haze at the back of mind until the fog takes over.

But I want the fog to disappear. I want to see the sun and feel the fresh air again, that typical girl-running-through-a-field happiness is something I crave. That sense of freedom, like I could do anything. I really do want the fog to disappear. I just don’t know how.

I think the problem is we push ourselves so hard to be our best versions, we naturally want people to like us, we try to please others and in turn we lose our own happiness by trying to create it for others. What would happen if we lost our toxic friends, the job that makes us miserable? Would it be so wrong for us to take Mental Health days? Why is it so hard for people to accept that our brain can be damaged? If we fall, everyone runs to make sure we’re okay. If its a broken leg, everyone wants to sign our cast. If we have cancer, people visit the hospital. But a chemical imbalance? It’s for attention, or its us just being pathetic. How do you beat a society that would rather make you work with tears rolling down your cheeks than one that tells us it is in fact okay to not be okay.

Because it is. I am not okay – and that in itself is okay.

If you’re experiencing anything like what I have written then please feel free to message me, also try to reach out to a loved one or a doctor. You are not alone in this.
Advertisements

The Loss of Hope

My mind is foggy, distant, a suffocation.

My eyes are tired, heavy, two glazed shells.

My emotions are anger, fear and the loss of hope.

I’m sat in a world that is too fast for me, the never ending, never stopping pace is something I can’t keep up with. I feel myself losing grip on my life, my sanity. I try to keep going and enjoy my nine-to-five, my drunk weekends, my Netflix marathons yet every waking moment I have a dagger pain in my chest that leaves me with the inability to breathe comfortably. My head feels too full of air with no way to extract it. My limbs and muscles ache and pull me down all while I feel the hatred for life grow. Not life as a whole, but just my own.

I imagine a beautiful life but it’s hard to see it when the people you believe would be in it are no longer, I imagine an excelling career when I have no prospects, I see a family, invites to events, glamorous outfits and perfect locks yet all the time I gaze into it, I feel it slip away further and further, into the depths of nothing.

I don’t want to be like this but I wonder, how much longer will I last? How long can I go before the crumbling creates an avalanche? How bad do I have to feel to be on the receiving end of support? How do I ask? How do I explain a mind that does not work?

Or is it a life of war on myself, will it forever be a constant fight to not step out in front of a speeding car? Will it be a constant fear that I end up in hospital, either at my own hand or someone else’s? Do I need to forever live with the fear of someone leaving me? Watching me? Taunting me? Will I always be terrified of those around me, as well as myself? Will there ever be a point in this life where I feel content? Comfortable? God forbid, even happy?

I’m not sure how to fix this, I’m not sure that I want too. I’m not ready for the failure or the famous disappointed-but-not-surprised glint in my peers eyes as they realise there is no saving me? That this is me. That this is all I am.

Is there more to life than this feeling of empty sadness? Or are some people just not built for this world? I don’t know. I used to think everyone was here because they were able to handle the fierceness of this life and yet I wonder, am I? Am I fierce enough, brave enough? Is my spirit fiery enough to fight through my broken soul? Am I the light in anyone’s life?

More importantly, could I be the light in my own?