Empathy for the chronically suicidal.

On coming to terms with the realization that I will always struggle with suicidal thoughts and ideations.

I wanted to die last night.

I could not stop thinking about it. The reoccurring thought that I will always struggle mentally and emotionally, especially when life seemed to delight in my misery, felt like too much.

I was on the couch sobbing when Ava woke up and came out of her room rubbing her eyes and asking for milk. She stared at me a bit confused because she was half asleep and seemingly of unsure why it looked and sounded like Mommy was crying. She half patted my back, half whined for milk, and was on her way back to bed shortly after.

Once she was back in her room I sat on the floor and continued to sob and tell myself out loud how much I wanted to no longer be in that moment. And then the despair deepened at the realization that that’s not the first, and won’t be the last time Ava has had to watch Mommy cry.

Last week after I faced a crushing rejection, I was consumed by my sadness and again wrestled with my will to live. All day I fought the nagging desire to consume as many pills as I could find in my home and grew increasingly afraid that I’d actually do it.

I repeatedly wrote in my journal instead.

8.4.23, 4:25 PM—“I’m so tired. I don’t want to keep trying so hard to stay here. I feel so hopeless, so defeated, and so very empty. IDK. I am so sad today that it hurts. I can’t stop crying for long.”

4:49 PM—“I feel so heavy like I can’t hold myself up. I can’t stop crying. I am so sad.”

5:04 PM—“Why is this so painful? So very sad.”

6:33 PM—“I called Ash. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the fight right now. I return to deep sadness perpetually. What is now and always most prevalent is sadness.”

7:08 PM—“I’m so glad that Ash is coming. I want to be alone right now but I can’t be alone.”

7:25 PM—“I have a headache from crying.”

8:09 PM—“If I had insurance or the money, this is the point where (therapist) would implement my inpatient plan.”

8.5.23, 11:49 AM—“I’m so glad that Ash is here. I’m numb. And I need to keep writing.”

A losing battle.

With my bipolar diagnosis in 2020 also came the realization that I will always struggle with suicidal thoughts and ideations. A fact that feels so unfair and alarming. Unfair because I still have to operate as if I want to fight to stay in this place while my brain actively works against me. And alarming because I don’t know if the say will come when I lose that fight.

I recorded a voiceover of a short piece titled “Empathy for the Chronically Suicidal” below for TikTok, you can listen here. I know we’re not supposed to post pictures and videos of ourselves crying on social media but if it helps someone watching this in that very state, then the cringe factor is worth it to me.

Voiceover:
There is so much compassion and empathy given to those nearing their last days because of physical disease–and rightfully so. We see the weight loss, the sunken skin, the loss of hair and mobility and our hearts ache for them. And when they pass, the thoughts are almost always of how they bravely fought, how strong and resilient they were through it all, and almost never are they blamed for their demise.

Very rarely is the same amount of grace extended to those whose lives end due to a mental disease or struggle. I wonder how much kinder would we be when someone loses their battle if their internal mental decline could be seen physically. Would we be less inclined to call them selfish? To ask how could they not think of others? To wonder why they didn’t seek help. To say anything other than “they lost their battle with depression, or anxiety, or bipolar disorder.” Would folks who are experiencing those same struggles be less inclined to do so silently filled with guilt and shame that doesn’t belong to them?

I wonder.

🌞