(What follows is a serious and frank discussion of suicide. If you are experiencing suicidal ideation do not read this. Get Help. Go to http://www.suicidehotlines.com/)
One of the harder aspects of living with Mental illness is suicidal ideation. In my experience, the form it takes changes over time. I have struggled with suicidal thoughts for two years now, and though it has gotten better with medication and therapy, I would be lying if I said it really ever got easy. From what I have seen people don't just commit suicide, they lose a long war with suicidal thoughts.
For myself I haven't found a way to win this war yet, and I've come very close to losing it. Too close. There are occasional lulls where no active battle is being fought, sometimes it even seems like I have finally won. But then like an allergy it flares up again, and I am left struggling. At present I do not so much think of suicide so much, its more that sometimes I just really don't want to live anymore.
That sounds morbid I know, perhaps even frightening. I'm sure there are a few of you concerned for my well-being. Well don't worry, I'm not going to kill myself. As much as I might want to be done with my time on this planet, I have found a spirituality that keeps me going. I believe that we choose our lives on this planet, and we know what we will face going into life. I also believe that if you commit suicide, its an admission that you were in over your head, and you get to experience the same or very similar circumstances in your next life. The idea of having to relive all the struggles I've been through is repugnant. I did this all once, and I really feel like no matter what the results, I tried as hard as I possibly could.
Plus I am a stubborn, prideful man. I will not, no matter what, admit that I cannot handle this. I cannot bear the sting of a failure that big. I've had to eat plenty enough humble pie and I'm not about to cut myself another heaping slice.
Sure, those beliefs are probably totally irrational. I absolutely have no way of knowing the truth. I just accept it all on faith. Because it gives me strength.
So I am resolved to keep going on no matter what. To keep finding things to look forwards to. To keep finding pleasure wherever I can in life.
Moist of the time I manage to not think of death, or when I do its very fleeting. A passing moment of jealousy when I hear of someone's death, a glance skyward towards heaven with a wistful sigh, a stray thought of just how spiritually tired I feel.
But just sometimes, its all a little too much. And the desire to die can just flare up like an allergy, almost overwhelming, with little or no warning.
About five days ago I was visiting over at a friends apartment. I was just chilling, watching some Kpop videos (my guilty pleasure) on YouTube and not really doing much of anything. My friend was scrolling through Netflix looking for something to watch when he happened upon a documentary about near death experiences. At first I didn't pay any attention to what he was watching, but gradually it started to get my attention. By the halfway point I was enthralled, totally engrossed. By the end my whole mood had changed.
Schizo-affective is a strange disorder. Not only can your mood change quickly, but your entire thought process, beliefs, and motivations can chage as well. Sometimes, like this time, at the drop of a hat.
When the documentary ended I suddenly knew I was going to die. Deep in myself, I knew with absolute conviction that my time alive was almost up. I knew that I had pushed this body to the absolute limits, that my energy was almost all used up. I knew that I had done my job in this world, that I had played my role and whatever purpose I was meant to serve was almost complete. I knew that I wouldn't kill myself, but rather my body would give out soon, probably while I slept.
I knew I was going to die, soon, within a couple months, and I knew that I was leaving the planet with dignity, that I hadn't been a total failure.
I was absolutely ecstatic. I was so happy, so relieved, I could feel the stress, the anxiety pouring out of my body. I was so happy I was near tears. I had done it. I had won after all. Very soon I wouldn't have to struggle anymore. I wouldn't have to be a burden to my loved ones anymore. I wouldn't have to spend half my day sorting out the real from the unreal, or calming my anxiety, or enduring the shame I feel. It was all over soon. I was loved, I was forgiven, I was accepted. I felt happier than I have in literal years.
I was also excited. I've had many great adventures in my life. I've risked death, battled Corporations, taken huge doses of psychedelics, been involved in the black market, and taught newbies how to drive 18-wheelers in mountains. I have had many great adventures. But all those adventures paled before the adventure I knew awaited me now. What is death really like? What waits on the other side? Can it even be described in human terms? These questions and more rolled around in my head.
Somewhere though, a part of me said it would be best to do nothing. To say nothing, to make no decisions, and to just enjoy the night and do nothing.
I thought a great deal about what affairs I wanted to wrap up before I died. There were a few people I still owed apologies too, a few people I didn't owe apologies too but it would probably help them so I'll take the full blame for the past, and a few financial loose ends to tie up. I decided whom to leave what little property I own to (basically just my laptop) and how I would make sure that the online communities I was part of would be alerted. I decided that I wanted to be cremated, no headstone for me. I wanted my ashes to be spread in a pond in Silver Creek back home. Many of my happiest childhood memories were in that park, as well as some of the best times I ever had with my true friends.
I would leave all these details in a document on my laptop. I would make sure its location was obvious, so that it would be found after I died. Just in case though, I would drop a few hints as my end drew nearer.
It was all so great. Dinner that night was a simple meal of red beans and rice with a little sausage, and it tasted fantastic. I savored every bite, chewing slowly. When I went outside to smoke the tiny breezes of wind passing over my skin were invigorating. Each puff of the cigarette was a celebration of life. The soft bird songs of evening floated around me, creating a musical harmony that was just perfect. I wanted to savor my last few months on this planet.
When I went to bed that night I did so feeling safe, secure, and happy. I was excited and exhausted all at the same time. Thoughts of what I would try to do with the time I had left kept flitting about my mind. I wanted to eat at Whataburger. I wanted to get out to a Sushi restaurant one last time. I wanted to walk the river-walk. I wanted to finally sit down and read Das Kapital. I wanted to have one last barbeque with my friends in San Antonio. I wanted to rewatch all of DragonBallZ abridged. I wanted to tell my loved ones how thankful I was for their help over the years.
I felt like a child the night before Christmas, wanting to fall asleep so the morning would come sooner, but too excited to calm down enough to sleep. Slowly, happily, with pleasant thoughts a a feeling of such peace, I drifted off to sleep.
When i awoke I was still kind of floating, but not nearly as much as I had been the night before. I went through my normal morning ritual of combing my hair and getting freshened up. I went downstairs to eat breakfast. It tasted good, but not nearly as appetizing as food had the night before. As the day wore on more and more of that floating feeling faded. By the time I was into my third cup of coffee, it was totally gone.
About an hour later was when it hit me. None of it was real. I was going to go on living. It had all been a delusion, just another delusion. I had many mixed feelings.
On the one hand I could see how with the aid of medication this delusion had passed much quicker than other ones had in my past. I could also see that I had managed to not actually do anything, or make any decisions, or tell anyone of my sudden insight. So I felt some pride there. I felt relieved because I didn't really want to die. There was actually things I still wanted to do, reasons to go on, and I started to remember them. I felt a little better.
On the other hand it was embittering to realize that despite all the therapy and all the medication I still had these delusions. When you get treated for mental illness you here the phrase "symptom management" a great deal. What this phrase means is that often, the symptoms do not fully go away, they just become easier to.......manage.
As much as I can take some pride in weathering this particular sotrm, it is also a bit embittering to think that I might have to keep doing this sort of thing for the rest of my life For now though life goes on, I continue looking towards the future. I continue to walk my personal path of healing with the hope that someday I will find a way to win this war.
I'll never give up.
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