Some thoughts on a Saturday evening
I recently found out that a friend of mine on Twitter lost someone by suicide. She had interviewed this person two years ago for her photo thing called “Live Through This” (www.livethroughthis.org). I was sad to hear this because I thought people who were interviewed were somehow free of suicidal thoughts, that they had their life together after their attempt. I never was interviewed because I don’t want the exposure and I didn’t think I had anything positive to contribute because my moods were so bleak. I also was actively suicidal at times. I still think one day I will die by my own hand, that is if some alien parasite doesn’t take it first.
I have been reading over my blogs from 2-3 years ago. The blogs were all about the severe pain I was in with my ankle/foot and how suicidal it was making me. I also wasn’t getting any support from my PCP. He just wanted to “fix” me but really couldn’t. He also was very discriminating towards me because of my weight. There were blogs on the visits where he just wanted me to be more active. How was I going to be more active if I couldn’t walk without severe pain? Even on the last visit he wanted me to go to some program to learn to live with the pain and gain function. I know he doesn’t want me on my pain medication but I really don’t have a choice. It’s either be on this medication or end my life. That is how I see it.
This evening, I have been thinking about suicide. My foot has been aggravating me all day. It didn’t help that I kept on going up and down the stairs or that I fixed my lunch or put away all my groceries. I just don’t want to be in pain anymore. And I am tired of being in this depression that has been going on for months. Despite me being on medication for it, I don’t feel relief. It could be that the grief of my father has clouded my thinking. I just know that I can’t go on living like this. I have the means to end my life. I just don’t know if it will be enough. I don’t want to attempt and fail. That to me will be worse than dying.
I have been trying not to think about this plan that I cooked up months ago. I just am so sad. I have been reading today to distract myself. I was reading “Common Struggle” by PJ Kennedy. He was talking about his addiction to alcohol and pain meds. He was hooked on oxycontin. I was on that drug many years ago. It worked for me but then it made me kind of manic. I was glad to get off it. I am glad I am no longer taking it. It just did a number on me psychologically. My current pain meds don’t affect me that way. They help the pain and make me sleepy at times, but not all the time. If I am already exhausted, sure, I will get sleepy. But if I am already catching my second wind, they will not knock me out. I don’t know why sometimes it does and sometimes it doesn’t. It’s just weird. And it’s the same dose that I take so I really can’t understand it. But getting back to Kennedy, he made me appreciate that I do not have an addiction problem when I could very easily. Addiction runs in my family, but mostly for the illicit kind like cocaine and heroin. I have had one cousin die from a speedball (combo of coke and heroin). They ruled it an accidental death but I learned that a week before he died he was giving away possessions so I think it was more of a suicide.
I often wonder what it would be like to be dead. I just don’t want to be anymore. I am tired of living. In Kennedy’s book, he said that he didn’t have suicidal tendencies because if he did, he would probably be dead. Given the amount of alcohol he consumed and the pain meds, I would say he wouldn’t survive an attempt. I wonder why I am still alive. I know it has been a long while since I last attempted. But even though I have meticulously planned out a suicide plan, I have never gone through with it. My therapist or psychiatrist always seem to pull me away from going ahead with the plan, either with increased sessions or with them telling me how devastated they would be with my loss. I don’t get what they see in me.
I always feel they will be better off without me. They can’t stop me. No one can really. Sure they can hospitalize me but there is always discharge a few days later. And I know the system to get out and in. They know I know this. It’s just a matter of time before I act on my feelings. It may not be today or tomorrow but it will be soon.