When I am bored
and my motivation is at its lowest
the persuasive thoughts consume me;
that is when I need to pay attention
to my senses
get out of my head
and go for a walk.
When I am bored
and my motivation is at its lowest
the persuasive thoughts consume me;
that is when I need to pay attention
to my senses
get out of my head
and go for a walk.
Those times when my actions are rotecompleted without thought,without accessing any of my senses,when my mind is numbleft alone in repetition,his persuasive thoughts consume me.his perspective is the only one I have.I am ready to act,ready to end.
I am stuck in hopelessness,
overwhelmed at the distance.
I'm supposed to just look at each step
one at a time
but I can't help but be discouraged.
It is all too far,
without guarantees.
What if it is a mirage,
a horizon that keeps receding,
unattainable
forever.
Why do I want to put myself through that?
Why not cut the journey short,
where I realize the destination
I've always been travelling towards;
where I can achieve the reward
right now,
and be content with who I'm destined to be.
You are important to me.
Even though we've never met,
I recognise your struggle,
and share in your pain and perseverance.
To have come this far,
to have said no,
time and time again,
even when every thought screamed for relief,
you chose life.
You are remarkable.
You are important to me.
I can't explain my silence
for fear you will think less of me.By lowering my mask,
the mask I've worn so faithfully
the mask you see as me,
you won't see the truth
rather a convenient excuse.
You'll think I'm abdicating all responsibility,
heaping all the stress on you,
blaming my disease
so I can live carefree,
without consequence
when in fact
I'm protecting you
from the constant threat of suicide,
a burden too cruel to share.
I want to help
do all that I can,
I just can't explain my silence.
This is a new resource in Canada. It is great to have one number you can now call or text to get mental health support 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The site also has additional information on understanding suicide, suicide-safe language, facts and myths, statistics and risk factors.
Suffocation, which includes hanging, is by far the most common method of suicide in Canada. More than half of the total 3809 suicides in 2018 employed this method.
Canadian Vital Statistics Death Database
Poison, which includes overdoses of medication and peach dust, was the second most used method.
It is interesting to note that in America, firearms are the top means of suicide. Stricter gun laws in Canada are saving lives. Guns are by far the most lethal means with which to attempt suicide. “Lethal” refers to ease of use, accessibility and the ability to abort mid-attempt.
Most people start an attempt and abort it partway through. If you overdose on medications, you usually have time to call 911 or other assistance. With a gun, however, that ability is all but eliminated. The fatality rate of suicide by firearm is more than 80%, while suffocation is 62%, jumping 34.5% and poisoning/overdose is 1.5%. The vast majority of attempts by poison are aborted.
This is the most challenging chapter to write. This is the topic I fear the most.
The Critic has been part of my life since I can remember. A voice that amplifies everything I do wrong, that offers suicide as a relief. I don't actually hear a voice; instead, it is an internal dialogue that drowns out every other thought. The Critic tells me I am destined to die by suicide and that my greatest action of free will is choosing when it will happen.
The Critic is not always blunt. In fact, in most cases, he acts as my greatest ally. Rather than dictating what I must do, he often sympathizes with my concerns and offers relief.
He recognizes my weaknesses and offers me peace. His ideas are so seductive that, in the moment, they make complete sense. It's only after the fact that I recognize how dangerous and permanent they are.
I have had many therapists but only one identified and separated out The Critic completely. She set up an empty chair so I could address and directly challenge his assumptions and arguments.
At times, I even sat in The Critic's chair. The dark thoughts I spewed were vicious; the self-hatred was exhausting. He identified every mistake in my life, real and imagined. He told me that I've accomplished nothing and never will, that I am a failed introvert without confidence and friends. My dreams have no hope of fruition. It is a lie that if you just persevere, you will win, so why bother? I have let down myself so many times. Why try? Writing these words is a waste of time. The Critic's thoughts are relentless and know precisely when to strike. All other words escape me, and I'm left to listen over and over, again and again. I am all I'll ever be. You'll cause pain whenever you choose to go, so why delay any longer?
The Critic views suicide as my greatest accomplishment. Even better if it is unexpected. I was proud of my last attempt when I caught my pdoc entirely off guard. The Critic told me it was something to be proud of, to wipe away the doctor's smugness. They locked me up in the hospital for eight weeks. Something else to add to my resume.
Please don't cry. Be happy with the time we had. Use our memories as your palette and paint a beautiful dream where we're all together again. *I am safe. |
Suicide
will be my greatest accomplishment. The only feat I'll be remembered for. My courage, my planning will be a surprise. No one will suspect. l'll win. Those are the thoughts, tantalizing, seductive, relentless, that give me purpose, an attainable goal. It's all I have to hold onto while I delay, living out the days and numbers that count plus one, slowly plodding again and again. Each day ending with the same prayer: that I sleep the endless sleep that my last breath leaves me mid dream and I die beneath the covers. |
I like to think of myself as kind and empathetic but deep down I know I'm the exact opposite: cruel and selfish. That is what the thoughts do. It's a constant fight over the very core of my being, over who I really am. |
|
I sat down today to write something positive. My mind idles. The words don't come. If I'm happy do I lose who I am? I've lived with suicide my whole life. I'm still certain it will be my end but I can still smile and laugh through the last days, without guilt or regret. I can still live until the moment is ripe and time is harvested. |
Here is my Doomsday clock.
I just finished reading Joe Tracini's book Ten Things I Hate About Me - How to stay alive with a brain that's trying to kill you. I was captivated by the title, hoping I could relate. The book is entertaining with humour throughout, even though it covers the very serious topics of childhood trauma and substance abuse.
I have none of these challenges, yet my brain is still trying to kill me. The book has prompted me to try and explain some of the ways I deal with my own chronic SI. So far I have posted a few TikToks and depending on how the content is receive I will continue there or here in Poppysmata. Perhaps combined with my what to expect articles, I might be able to have enough material to write a book similar to Mr Tracini's. I could modify his title to How to manage a brain that wants to kill you.
I posted another short story to ReedsyPrompts entitled Not My Fault.