04 October 2009
Suicide Is Painless
I woke up with a start at 0500 this morning. What a bite. It’s Sunday, a day when my alarm is not set. Why do I have to be awake so early? The nicest thing about sleep? My racing thoughts are quelled; the anxiety, the terror and the state of panic are at bay.
When I wake up, especially far earlier than intended, I can never go back to sleep. I just lie there and my thoughts just go to town. I can’t shut them up. All I could think about this morning was all the crap I didn’t finish before I logged out of the network Friday and all of the unread (118) emails still in my inbox. It’s SUNDAY for God’s sake…my supposed day off from work.
My thoughts quickly gravitate to suicide once again. I keep hearing the lyrics to M*A*S*H in my head, “That suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it if I please…” Right now, suicide is the painless option. There is too much pain just trying to eek out my day-to-day existence. I am so tired physically, emotionally…just too much crap. I just want to close my eyes and let everything go. I just don’t give a damn about anything. There is nothing to hold on to in my life that can make the difference.
I made a grave error in judgment about a month ago. I knew I was off my meds. I knew I was spiraling down big time. Tried my old DBT efforts of “mindfulness.” Didn’t work. Then I thought, you know, I could try to be responsible, for a change, with my bipolar. I could try being accountable to someone about how I am feeling. Way big mistake there. I actually called up the one friend I have and made the biggest mistake ever. I told her how I was feeling. Not that I was going to commit suicide, but that my depressive state was so bad that this is where my thoughts were taking me. Oh God, how I ever wish I had never made that phone call. I actually forgot that she has a key to my house. To make a long story short, she made it quite clear that if she couldn’t get in touch with me and if I wasn’t answering my phone at some point, she was going to march her ass right over to my house. I eventually convinced her that I was really OK (of course I was lying through my teeth), so she finally backed down. Now I have to pretend that everything is always FINE to her, the one person I thought I could be honest with about my feelings. Now I have to decide if I am going to go through the ordeal of changing all of the locks on my house.
Why is suicide so attractive? I don’t have to worry about the pressures from my job. I don’t have to worry about the awful pain I feel from being alone. I don’t have to worry about all of the things I do to myself when the pain of living exceeds my tolerance level just short of suicide. I don’t have to worry about living The Great Lie to the entire world (you know, that wonderful façade). That gets incredibly wearisome over time. I no longer have to be accountable to anyone (especially family) for what is going on in my life (yet another continuation of The Great Lie).
I have managed to keep the thoughts of self-mutilation at bay for quite a while. The function it served no longer works. There is no release in the pain felt. There is no release in watching the bloodletting. It’s like, “skip Go, do not collect $200.” I now just simply gravitate straight to suicide. Very bluntly, I am oh so ready just to lie down and quit. I am just so tired of it all. These racing thoughts are taking over everything and I can no longer control them. They won’t shut up. I can’t shut them out. They are taking over everything. I JUST WANT TO TURN OFF THE FUCKING NOISE IN MY FUCKING HEAD. Suicide equals silence.
Everything is ready to go. It’s all in the other room. All I have to do is set everything up. All I have to do is insert the butterfly syringe. Once that is in place, instant access to my veins. The bolus of KCl is waiting for me. Or I can opt for the insulin. Too much of either and it’s all over. Oh, sure, I have plenty of pills I could swallow and chase with alcohol, but there is always the chance I could vomit. The IV solution is sure fire…no accidents. The desire right now is so damn attractive. It too damn easy. I am angry that I am even having this discussion with myself. I’m wasting time sitting here and talking about it. What is holding me back from just walking into the other room and being done with it all? That pisses me off more than anything else right now.
I used to think if I could just take the time and capture all these feelings and write them down that it would provide a release for me. Writing no longer provides that catharsis. Sure, it gives me the chance to capture the thoughts, to force me in examining what emotions I am really feeling, but it now only boils down to realizing one thing: I’m empty. There is nothing left.
Yet at the same time, my mind is not in the same space it has been when I have attempted suicide before. I really haven’t made all of the preparations this time. The last two times the house was ready to go. Anyone coming into my house after the fact would have found everything neat and tidy. No, I’m not talking about making sure my house is clean. I’m talking about making sure all of the necessary paperwork is out in the open for anyone to find so that whoever will have to be responsible for picking up the pieces can take care of all of the arrangements. All my paperwork is in its lockbox right now. I have no idea who will ever discover me after the fact, or how much time will have to pass before someone comes knocking down my door. Sad to say, it will probably take quite some time before someone finally figures out that something might actually be amiss.
Sure, when my body is discovered, there will be no problem identifying me. Nevertheless, I have no emergency contact information anywhere except in that lockbox. Even my friend would have no clue as to who to call to make any announcements. I’ve always kept all of that information to myself for obvious reasons. I have nothing on file anywhere else (doctors, hospitals, etc.).
This is the worst part about suicide ideation…the pure desire and the means are there…yet something is holding me back at this exact moment. That really pisses me off. I have no reasons whatsoever NOT to do it, so why don’t I? What the fuck is holding me back this time? That only makes me more angry. Yeah, like I’m making a whole hell of a lot of sense right now.©2009