I first tried to kill myself when I was 8. It was not a very competent attempt and all I ended up with was a very messed up bed (I tried to use the sheet tied to the bedframe. What can I say? I was ignorant.)
It’s not something I talk about much, but suicide has been on my mind almost ever since. I can’t say for certain that I think about it every day, but I consider it most days. The worst is on days when I’m feeling a little happiness or contentment, because then I have the thought, “I should just kill myself now, so I won’t ever have to feel that pain again. It always comes back.” And, it does always come back.
I haven’t tried to kill myself in 10 years now. I don’t know exactly why I stopped trying, but it may have to do with the fact that I’m afraid of the physical pain and suffering that will happen if I fail, but hurt myself severely. I may become disabled and/or lose my job and become homeless. My health and disability insurance don’t cover self-inflicted wounds, so I would be on my own even more than I am now.
Or maybe it’s just stubbornness. After 22 years, I don’t think I’m in much danger from myself anymore. The thoughts are in my mind, but they don’t have nearly as much power as they did a decade ago.
Still, I often find myself holding a knife to my wrist, just thinking about it. Or getting the bottle of narcotics I saved from my foot surgery out of the drawer and twirling it, thinking about swallowing the lot ,laying down to sleep and then there would be only nothing.
They are tempting thoughts, but for now they will remain thoughts.
People keep saying it gets better. I don’t know if it does yet, but it seems I’m stuck here and will find out one way or another.