I just passed the 14th anniversary of my suicide attempt. And as happens most years, I regret that I allowed myself to be talked out of it back then. I feel like each year that I wait before I end it all I just widen the pool of how many people will be impacted in the ripples of the aftermath. Every day and month means more people who I cross path with who will be stunned and shaken when they find out that I'm no longer alive by my own hand. And for the people who I've let closer in, the damage of waiting is even stronger, since then they will have more time to allow me deeper into their hearts, which means that the scars afterward will be deeper in their hearts. I almost want to spend the next period of time being obnoxious to everyone so that they should be relieved when I am gone (though in hindsight they might feel guilty for missing what they decide is a cry for help).
I'm not ready to take my life, but I wish to not wake up tomorrow. Or for some accident to befall me so that I die but not of my own hand. It's hard to keep fighting when things seem to be getting progressively worse. From the outside I might seem to be doing better but that's just because I'm deeper in freeze and/or disassociation, i.e. the difference is not an improvement.
Please don't comment how my life has value or how other people will be hurt, that's not helpful to me. It's also not helpful to comment that things will get better, since that's not my experience.
#SuicidalThoughts #SuicideAttemptSurvivors #Suicide