Suicide is a Four Letter Word
Originally posted to Thinkspot on July 6th, 2022.
I spent the last half of 2022 wishing for my death.
I’ve been suicidal a few times in my life. As a teenager, I dealt with it by seeing a counselor. To be honest, she was nice, but it didn’t really help.
Back then, those feelings subsided as my life started to change. One of the reasons (but certainly not the only reason) my feelings subsided was because friends started inviting me to be part of something. I went on a couple of extra curricular trips and met people who accepted me. My sense of being completely alone and worthless was somewhat dissipated.
Quick side note: for a lot of people (but not everyone), depression and suicide can be greatly diminished by forcing them out into the world. Monsters live in the darkness. If you lie there for too long, you risk being swallowed by them.
In 2022, I was close to my lowest point that I’ve ever been. I was 43 and a waste of space. My friends had all moved on in life, the way you’re supposed to by the time that you’re in your forties. I was alone and going nowhere. And after two years of constantly losing, I could only see a loser when I looked into the mirror. My thoughts never strayed far from my wish that it all would end. I grew more distant and unsociable. I gained 30 pounds on top of my already heavy frame, ballooning up to 320. My hair grew long and shaggy. Not long before, my hair color had been salt and pepper. Now it was just white, like a ghost. And that’s how I felt.
And I must have been a ghost, because no one saw me.
Suicide is literally the silent killer. No one wants to talk about it. No one wants to deal with it. If we see someone we know with a drug addiction, we have interventions. But when we see someone we know who just doesn’t think their life has value? We ignore it. We turn a blind eye.
Some people don’t notice. Some people pretend not to. Mostly, people don’t care. And hey, this is not me calling out the people in my life or suggesting they don’t care about me. In the words of Susan Ivanova, there’s enough guilt to go around in the world without grabbing for more.
I've always been difficult to navigate. I’ve been living with depression on and off since I was a small child. That isn’t an exaggeration. I have the report that the psychiatric hospital gave my parents when I was eight. Remarkably, most of the problems they diagnosed remain with me as an adult.
So how do you know when I’m just fine versus depressed versus being ready for it all to end?
It isn’t always so easy, even for me. Depression is a lot like my obesity. I’m so used to carrying the burden that I don’t always notice when it's gotten too heavy to carry on my own. And as scary as it is to think, being suicidal isn’t all that different. I generally don’t think my life has much value to the world. And I’m smart enough to know that I’m not wrong in that assessment. If I got hit by a car tomorrow, life would only change for a handful of people. The world wouldn't notice the absence of one mediocre life.
The thing is, I wanted to die, but there was never any danger of me intentionally harming myself. Having lived so long with depression, I know how I work. At best, I would have been a bit slower to walk if a bus was coming my way. I just wanted it to end. I don’t have it in me to pick up the knife.
For most people there is a guilt component in wanting to die. You feel like a burden to those around you and to the world. But if you kill yourself, that’s making them deal with your corpse and the fallout. But then part of you also thinks that when you're gone, they'll finally notice you. Maybe you'd matter more in death than you did in life. And you’re selfish for wanting that, but that makes you feel guilty as well.
Well, for some people anyway. Depression and suicidality are sort of like cancer. To someone who has never had it, you ask “why hasn’t someone come up with a cure?” But the reality is that these are blanket terms that cover all manner of sins.
One of the most annoying and insulting things people say to those with depression is “everyone gets sad sometimes!” as if they just canceled our favorite tv show and we needed to get over it. Incidentally, the second most insulting response is that you just need to diet and exercise. I say this with the full weight of my being- FUCK. OFF. Diet and exercise obviously do affect your mood. They don’t eliminate severe depression and suicidality.
Depression is not simply “being sad”. I don’t cry myself to sleep. Depression is the loss of hope. Suicidality is created by the feeling that life will never get any better and you’re merely a burden to the people around you. And deep down, they would be better off if you weren’t here anymore.
Wherever you hear about some guy who had a wife and two small kids who killed himself, most people go “why? He had everything to live for. He could have at least stuck it out for his kids.” You don’t get it. This is part of the guilt. When he took those pills or tied that noose, he thought his kids would be better off without him.
People like to post things on social media to the effect of “if anyone is contemplating suicide and needs to talk, I’m here.” And look, your heart is in the right place. Unfortunately that’s just not how it works. There are some people who are just too far gone for anything other than a straight jacket to stop them. For the rest, they need you to reach out to them.
I’m luckier than some people in my position. I’ve never taken the last step. I know myself. I wanted to die for somewhere around six months. Then one day, the weight didn’t feel as heavy. I can’t say specifically what made it stop, if indeed there was only one reason.
Productivity is part of it. I feel worse when I’m not being creative. I’ve been mostly doing very well lately, because I’ve been writing constantly. But at the same time, I haven’t been taking photographs, so that affects me. A sense of purpose is important in dealing with depression. Idle hands truly are the Devil's playground.
Another component is companionship. I went on a cruise with some friends in January. I shaved off my hobo hair, cleaned myself up and flew to Orlando. We had an amazing trip on a beautiful boat and saw some amazing places. It was a few weeks later when I noticed I wasn’t feeling the same need for it all to end.
They don’t realize it, but my time with my friends was probably a big component in pulling me back from the tide.
I no longer felt like a ghost. I was part of the world again.
Some of it though, is just my attitude. When you live with long term depression, at some point you realize that you have to get out of bed. I can be a worthless loser, but I still have responsibilities. So you get up every day and go to the job you hate and do the chores you don't feel like doing. And maybe if you do it long enough you get back to a relative normal.
These days, I'm not happy, but I don't want it all to end. I'm a bit on the bubble, mentally. Some days are worse than others, but the feelings of hopelessness aren't as strong or as swaying. I don't want it all to end. And I'm grateful for that little bit.
As you read this, please remember that I am not a clinical psychologist. I’m someone with lived-in experience explaining to you what life is like on the other side. Other people have other experiences that may differ.
I’m not sure what I want from this. I certainly do not want your sympathy. I don’t know. Maybe you’ll read this and recognize something you missed in a loved one. Maybe you lost someone to suicide and this can help you understand what they felt. And please, do not feel guilt. There isn’t always something you can do.
Maybe, just maybe someone else is feeling this way and needed to hear that they aren’t alone.
And you’re not.
It’s time we talked about that.
#depression #suicide #mentalhealth #mensmentalhealth #therapy #psychology
