Bipolar Thoughts

Now or Never

I wrote the follow post on my 30th birthday. I stayed home from work that day because I was so overcome with depression that I could barely get out of bed. Around noon, I was able to peel myself out of bed and I wrote a couple of posts. I did post one of those, but this one seemed too dark, too personal, even then in that darkness.

Not even a couple hours later I would attempt to hang myself with a belt from my bathroom door. I would be hospitalized and receiving electroconvulsive therapy within days. Sadly, this was not the lowest point of my life, but it was very close to it.

I just thought I should offer up that introduction to this piece to sort of frame it appropriately. It is odd looking back on it and seeing how far I was gone back then, and how far I have come so quickly since then. ECT changed my life.

Sometimes I get the overwhelming feeling that it is time for me to go. And I don’t mean to the grocery store. I mean check out, quit it, bite the big one.

It is a feeling that is all encompassing at times and one I can’t run away from fast enough.

As I’ve posted in this space before, suicide is a thought that is with me near constantly, but it is hardly ever what my doctors would deem serious. Just fleeting thoughts and feelings, wanton desires. Having plans is serious, ruminating on the idea is serious, writing notes and preparing worldly possessions is the most serious.

By the time I get around to deliberating over the idea incessantly I find that it has consumed every action and thought that I have. Hell, I am writing this post because I cannot think of anything else to say or write. And this isn’t my first post on suicide I wrote today, although I only posted one.

The best way I have to describe it is that it is similar to the way to you feel when you go see your favorite musical act in concert for the first time. That all-encompassing rush of emotion you have for days. The all-consuming thoughts about going. The excitement that makes it hard to concentrate on anything for days on end. Suicide can be a lot like that, but instead of feeling good, you just want to lay in bed all day.

It is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t been there but all I want so badly is for an accident to consume my body tomorrow morning on my way to work so I don’t have to worry about any of it. My family won’t live with the stigma of suicide. It will be easier for my wife and daughter to explain my death in the future. And I will be totally happy, wherever I’ll be.

Unfortunately, I don’t think that will happen tomorrow. Of all the people who will die tomorrow in car wrecks, I probably won’t be one of them, even though I want to be. No, I think that by chance I will live a long prosperous life and be unhappy for most of it.

I certainly hope it isn’t the truth. I hope to live a long happy life. Somehow I don’t think that is in the cards for me.