I’m very suicidal lately. It comes to me when I’m laughing, when I’m upset, when things aren’t going right, when things are going perfectly. It comes both in dreams and when I’m awake, sometimes even in day dreams.
The two most popular incantations of the thought are when I’m driving and I just drive my car off a bridge or overpass, unbuckled, airbag turned off. Or sometimes into the lake, even though I’m terrified of drowning.
The second much more reasonable thought is that the next time I am around a gun I would ask to look at it and shoot myself in the head. Quick and easy.
The most common way I consider killing myself when I am actually planning it out is to run the car in the garage with the door shut. However last summer I had an elaborate plot to hang myself from my tree in the backyard. Slitting the wrists is always popular but also the number one survivable suicide attempt.
In my past I tried strangling myself with a belt tied to a door knob but I passed out and survived it. I have also attempted to stab myself in my belly but never got around to do anything more than cutting myself.
I don’t look at either attempt on my life as serious seeing as neither got very far. But they say making a plan, writing notes and stuff is a very serious marker.
I’ve done all that. I’ve written a dozen notes to my sister explaining how she shouldn’t feel bad and there was nothing she could do. I’ve written notes to my wife telling her to move on quickly and find a better man. I’ve written notes to my parents apologizing and that my dad will no longer have to sit next to a stat head at ballgames.
I don’t really get the point of notes. Everyone wants the note to explain the action, but it never can, not to anyone’s level of satisfaction. I’ve considered killing myself because I downloaded a virus on my computer before. Explain that in a note.
It is times like these that I wished my pills worked better. They can’t keep me out of every low I guess. And if they did, they would in turn keep me out of every high.
I tell my wife all the time that I will die by my own hand, whether I’m 30 or 80 and I mean it. I’m not too sure how serious she takes it anymore. I suppose indifference is a defense mechanism at a certain point.
All I know is that suicide, and suicidal thoughts, are a part of my everyday life. And honestly, a part I don’t mind.