Trigger Warning: Suicidal thoughts
Below is an excerpt from my personal journal. I wrote it at a time in my life where I was struggling to process the demands of everyday tasks and the pressure to move forward and thrive. I am sharing it publicly now in the hopes that it will find the people who need to read it, the people who need to know they are not alone.
If you are having suicidal thoughts, please reach out to someone. I promise you, we want to talk to you and we want you to be here. Yes, you.
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Things took an unexpected turn. I searched for jobs yesterday with the intent of finding a wage that could support my needs while I continue to shed the trauma of a capitalistic upbringing and lifestyle.
I was met with an onslaught of suicidal thoughts.
Suicidal thoughts like I'd never experienced them before. It wasn't me. It was... but it wasn't.
What I mean to say is that I wasn't hallucinating a separate voice in my head, or a person that wasn't actually there. Just that it was involuntary. I wasn't choosing these thoughts.
I'd walk into my kitchen and my first thought was "I could slit my wrists with those knives on the counter." I'd walk into the bathroom and wonder "would I have the will to drown myself in the bath?" I started to wonder what my dead body may look like, once I was finally found.
Over and over again.
Each moment was a riddle, how could I kill myself in this part of my house?
By the time I was going to bed, I considered putting the kitchen knives out in the hall of my apartment building. I wasn't sure I would make it through the night. It was like a demon whispering in my ear, trying to poison my thoughts.
I have never experienced this before.
I woke up this morning feeling less haunted. I wasn't exuberant to be alive, but the demon had seemed to move on, to another target perhaps. I mindlessly completed some work, then I laid on the couch.
Miserable.
Eventually I stood up and started to clean the house. I felt like a shell. Hollow. I remembered a method I'd learned to release stuck energy, dancing uncontrollably. I put on some music and started whirling around the apartment. Shaking, stomping, and twisting.
I let my head fall back and exposed my throat. Long, tortured moans left my body. I guess I was still being haunted. By the time I stopped dancing I was out of breath. I laid back down on the couch and I put on a guided meditation. Shortly after it was over I fell back asleep.
I had a dream. I had gotten up from my nap and was doing the dishes. It was a pleasant dream, which isn't common for me. In my dream I felt better, less haunted, but I knew I was dreaming. I could feel myself, lifeless on the couch while I moved around my dream kitchen. It wasn't real. I woke up about an hour later.
I got up and decided to take a shower. I walked into the bathroom and my first thought was "don't take a shower, take a bath." So I took a bath. I made it nice, essential oils, a candle, music. I enjoyed the warmth swimming around me.
I got out of the bath and got myself ready for the day. It was 2pm at this point, but a start is a start. I wanted to go outside. I grabbed my journal and I planned to walk to the park, but on the way there I remembered the library has beautiful stone benches. So I turned left toward the library. When I got there I chose a bench, sat down and immediately smelled the stench of cannabis. A few benches down there was a person relaxing, smoking a joint.
I hate the smell of weed, but I'd already sat down. Should I just suck it up? Literally.
I decided to choose my comfort over the fear of looking silly for sitting down and immediately standing back up. I walked around the block to the other side of the building and found another stone bench. I am sitting underneath what I think is a pin oak tree and I am journaling.
The city is surprisingly quiet.
Last night I asked my suicidal thoughts what they were trying to communicate with me. They said they are my fear. Life is hard and I'm afraid it will never get easier. It will only get harder. It would be so much easier to exit life instead of putting in the effort to fix the mess I am in.
I reminded my suicidal thoughts that death by suicide is never a guarantee. If I fail at ending my life, which is statistically probable, life will get a whole lot harder.
No. Death is not the way right now.
Suicide would not be easier than moving forward.
So here I am. Breathing the fresh air, watching people live their life, journaling, still alive. Still with options.
I can't say I don't feel hopeless, or that I see a light at the end of the tunnel.
But I can say I know I am only at the beginning of my journey.
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Please, if you are in a place where you would rather die, please talk to someone. Call a hotline, DM me, reach out. There are people waiting to support you. You deserve to be supported.
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