Trigger Warning: Death, Suicide, Depression
I think about suicide. Often. I have for years.
I was 12 or 13 when I really sat down intending to end my life. I sat alone in the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and held it over my heart, certain the world would be better with one fewer awkward, nerdy, “broken” people gumming up the works. The only thing that stopped me was the thought of my mother crying at my funeral. I couldn’t, at the time, conceive my death would hurt anyone, really, but I knew she’d blame herself and, at least in that, she would hurt. I couldn’t do that. I decided then that I could never take my own life as long as I could envision even one person saddened by it. The solution to my problems couldn’t be the cause of someone else’s (I realize now this was over-simple and more people-pleasing, but still…).
I never again came so close to attempting suicide. But, the thoughts persisted (as they had long before that night) and, even denying intention, the desire did too. I became apathetic to my death, reckless in many ways. I didn’t do any thrill-seeking, death-defying things; I was simply apathetic whether I survived. Instinct would move me to protect myself, but instinct was all there was in that. I just didn’t care to live, but had sworn not to purposefully end my life. This went on for years.
And still, the thoughts remained…
“I could just kill myself. That’d resolve [insert current problem/bundle of problems].”
“What if I just missed that turn and careened into that tree or off that cliff?”
“Does it really matter I’m still alive?”
“That life insurance money sure would help…”
On my best days, the idea passes through only once or twice. On my worst, it takes every “trick” in my bag to distract those words silent. Sometimes I dwell and ruminate. Sometimes I can brush them aside. These thoughts are always with me, but vary in intensity and frequency.
I realized a few years ago these thoughts are directly, inversely related to my mood — the worse and more depressed I feel, the more insistent and frequent that voice. I learned to use them as a gauge. Even if I think I’m feeling okay, if I notice thoughts of suicide popping up more and more frequently, something must be wrong. I don’t always manage to recognize it quickly, but it’s certainly a flag worth watching for.
As I’ve said earlier here, I have been, in the last year or so, diagnosed ADHD and identified autistic (diagnosis here is complex and expensive). Last year, I was in a long, slow burnout that involved steadily declining mental health, even as I began learning more and more about myself and how to accept myself. Toward the end, I discovered that I had not only been having more and more “passive” thoughts of suicide, but I had unconsciously made a plan. That scared me. I was in worse shape than I realized. The scariest thing, though, was that I hadn’t seen it coming — I hadn’t felt that depressive episode really taking hold as it obviously had. I didn’t realize how depressed I truly was until my thoughts revealed I had a suicide plan and shook me awake, making me see just how much those “I could/should kill myself” thoughts had truly been.
I have alexithymia. While there are a number of things this causes, the most pertinent here is that I don’t always know what I’m feeling. I often have to rely on cues from my body (fidgeting, racing pulse, upset stomach, lump in throat, chest ache, headache, etc.) or those background thoughts to figure it out. If I had understood — if I’d been able to listen to those suicidal thoughts — maybe I would have grasped just how far down I was spiraling. Maybe I would have understood the burnout for what it really was and seen the mistakes and the breakdown coming. That’s the thought and hope, at least.
I still have those intrusive thoughts. I still ponder the ramifications (ill or good) of my death, both unintentional and intentional. But, I’m trying to learn to examine those thoughts when they intrude, acknowledge them, really look at what’s going on and why those thoughts are cropping up (if there is a definitive reason) — just what those triggers are trying to warn me about.
I’m trying to tell myself, “I hear you.”