People Survive Being Shot in the Face

Anxiety and suicidal thoughts are not a good combination.

I mentioned, among other things, in my last post that I have been thinking about suicide a lot. And this is not new. Suicide was the topic of my writing class yesterday and I found myself very annoyed by the questions posited by my classmates. I didn't admit I am suicidal. There's a lot of stigma to being suicidal and just saying you are suicidal makes it seem like you just want attention.

So I will admit to that now: I definitely want attention. I also detest the idea of attention. I am bothered by the notion that I am not hit on in public spaces like some of my friends- but I am very aware that I put off an unapproachable vibe. I do not want to be approached. I don't. But I do. I don't think this is anxiety.

There are a lot of things that carry a stigma. I try to admit these parts of myself here because it's very public but still somewhat anonymous. I assume the majority of the people I know will never read this. So there's a stigma on female masturbation and porn consumption: covered. There's a stigma against the poor: covered. Today I'll elaborate on being "suicidal."

I say "suicidal" because the term sounds ridiculous. It's so closely associated with petulant teen angst that admitting I am almost constantly contemplating ways I could die sounds absurd. In fact, that was the biggest question in class, "Who could do this? Why would you do this? What drives someone to suicide?" Here's where my judgement on myself becomes clouded: I don't really know why. It's terrible and incredibly dramatic but it's not what I want to have as my go to solution for any pain. But it is. I could stub my toe on a really good day and flashback to every instance of ever being in pain and no longer be able to comprehend the meaning of "trying" in life. Sometimes for hours there is just a hard nagging weight on my chest and at the end of that period I consider that it would be amazing to just stop existing.

This brings me to another point of why it's "suicidal"- I don't necessarily want to die so much as just stop. I suppose if I could just stop but still be alive some how I wouldn't mind. The thoughts that plague me are: running forever (void of thought, which would probably end in death from exhaustion,) dying, killing, and making out with everyone. I assume this is why I was given medication (that I have not been taking, because I can't rationalize that other people don't feel these things too. Is it really that odd? Probably.) I imagine that there are a lot of creative people that are obsessed with these themes though, as there are genres like horror and torture porn. It troubles me that there is probably a fine line between artist and murderer. I would not spend the night at Eli Roth's after having been subjected to Hostel.

This brings me back to the title and the initial concept that anxiety and suicide are a bad combination. I spend all day running through scenarios. I'm sure you do to. Mine are sprinkled with death. I probably spend a quarter of the day thinking of stabbing myself in the face and what that would entail. What would the ramifications of my death be? Where would my debt go? What if I didn't die? People can survive a lot of things. People are selfish and don't want to let go of others. There are so many ways to try to die that could end with you alive but worse off.

At this point I have accepted that I will probably just give in to these urges one day. I have learned to find it somewhat amusing. Especially in the tug-of-war between that impulse and the need to over analyse things due to anxiety. I don't know if this will apply to everyone you know who feels suicidal sometimes, but I like being candid in small doses just in case.


Popular Posts