***WARNING: Some may find this post triggering. Please proceed with caution.***
This week hit me hard. Hard like a sack of bricks straight to the chest. A type of blow that leaves you reeling, breathlessly clawing at your lungs in the hopes of one more breath.
Two prominent community figures, lost to the world through suicide. In one painful week.
You may wonder how this relates to me. How this news affects a person dealing with depression and anxiety. And the truth is, this news may be nothing but another horrible tale added to the pile of what’s going on in the world right now for some.
But. For others, it means something entirely different.
For someone who suffers from Passive Suicidal Ideation, this news could be incredibly triggering. This news could be something way more than simply another gouge in a naive heart.
For someone like myself.
A woman who deals with Passive Suicidal Ideation, a woman who wants to die on a very normal basis, but doesn’t make any active plans to do so.
This is terrifying for me to admit. For me to release this part of me into the arms of others and hope for acceptance. It is a secret, a key, that I have clutched so tightly to my breast for many years of my life.
This key, and the door that it unlocks (should I choose to do so), leads to a flood of indescribable emotions, to nights of silent tears, to a whole host of confusion, frustration, and final resignation to what I feel.
I wish I was dead. On a very normal basis. The innate irony that I live with is the fact that I am actually terrified of death. Of an untimely demise. Of unfinished business left behind.
I don’t make any further plans to does and probably never will. But the feeling is always there, is palpable, all the same.
The world would be better off without me in it.
I contribute nothing. I am nothing. No one would miss me any way.
This pain, this constant internal battle is too much. I wish it would stop.
I am so desperate to end these emotions. The ones that invade my mind unwillingly, take hold of all reality and twist it cruelly into something unrecognizable.
These recent public deaths are meaningful to me. Probably in a way that is terrifying to most. To myself even.
It’s terrifying to have the internal realization that when someone says “I don’t understand how someone could do that”...that I DO understand.
I get it. I really, honestly, truly understand it. I get how this feeling can be too much. And how someone would do anything to shut it off.
And finally, I am tired of living this truth, but hiding it in the shadows. Of masking my pain with bubbly conversations and big smiles. Of politeness and distractions and censorship.
Fuck. This is my reality. And I will no longer filter it. If these deaths have taught me anything, they’ve taught me to "Fuck Politeness" (shoutout to my Murderinos).
I choose to take control and step into the light and be honest. I choose to say these words in hopes that it gives others who feel the same way the strength to do the same. To give solace in knowing that they aren’t alone. To let them know that they have an advocate, a friend, an ally who loves them.
This strong, lively, intricate woman suffers more than you know. And yet, I am still okay. I am still strong. I will continue to fight and move through this.
I will find a time AFTER my Passive Suicidal Ideation, and that’s what keeps me going every day. The light is there, I promise.
As always, KEEP YOUR HEADS UP, my loves.
(Happy Note: I got to meet Norbert, an internet famous therapy dog this past week!)