This relates to suicidality. This relates to my recent bouts with pretty much everything.
I have, in the past, been tempted to just end all of my suffering and successfully commit suicide. I've had vivid visions of myself ending my life. I've had detailed dreams of me falling through the darkness and hearing all of my criticisms while I fall, fall, fall...
I thought the only person I said the "s" word to was my therapist because he seems like a guy I can trust to keep subjects like that locked down. I mean, I said it here, but kept it under the cover of a "good friends only" tag. I was under the impression that I was cloaking my actual thoughts under the disguise of really good writing.
Then two things happened. One, a newer friend of mine looked at me and said "I know where you're coming from, man, I have also had suicidal thoughts..." and I couldn't really say anything back to him. I just stood there and nodded, knowing he had somehow figured me out and seen through my writing.
Flash forward (and yet, still, flash back) to yesterday and me, talking with my uncle after a long day of visiting. This would be the second time I actually broke down and cried that day. We were going on about life and everything and then my uncle said "Your Aunt has always had a special place in her heart for you." Well, that's nice of you to say. "It's been that way since she found out you were suicidal."
I guess I have tried to keep this a big secret from everyone, but I've also done that in the worst way possible. I mean... writing's been my thing for a long time. It's gotten me into trouble with people, it's gotten me through some personal situations, it's gotten me far (but not far enough!!! hahaha please) with the ladies, it's what I do. I've always known how to write to express myself, I've just recently gotten really good at it. And so I took to writing my feelings, and so I took to writing about dark moments, and... I guess my real intention in writing has always been pretty plain to see.
I remember a college exercise where I wrote about an experience I had but turned it into a poem. One kid looked at it and immediately said "This is about playing football on a baseball field." I've adopted or adapted to a style that isn't too deep. It's not hard to see through my message. So I guess I forgot about that when I have been writing about this, the one important thing I've written about in a while.
It's a god damned tough thing, thinking while depressed. It's even tougher to reason critically. Pretty easy to lay around and not do anything. I did that for a couple weeks. I've done it a couple nights this week, too. But what's really something is how self centered I get when I get into one of those suicidal modes. I just think that nobody or no thing can ease my pain when I'm down. I even get into a position where I don't want to talk to anybody -- too personal. Too painful.
And then there's times when I couldn't imagine doing something like that, when I think "If I did this, I wouldn't feel any pain anymore... but so many people would." I think about all the people I've touched. I think about all the people who have stepped in to offer help to get me through this. I think about the love and the compassion. I think about the people who have hung out to get me through episodes. I think about those who have barely met me sitting with me and talking about things that eat at me. I think about the family and depriving others of my gifts and experiences.
I'm not out of the woods yet. I can have good days and bad days. I wouldn't say I am on a high wire act, but I am kind of in a sensitive position. I don't know how long it'll take to become less sensitive or what it will take to make me comfortable and confident again. So far I've gotten through this. I've just got to concentrate on the positives that happen every day and focus on the potential for things to be good again.
I hate "potential" because it is so non-concrete. So non-linear. But non-linear is a thousand times better than non-existent.