One of the truly horrible things about a lifetime of bipolar, hypomania, depression and mental illness is that you’re always left wondering, is this depression the last depression? Is this my brain and my mind’s breaking point? Is this the depression I end with suicide?
Others Wonder if This is the Time You End Depression with Suicide
And worse, people around you, in idle moments, might wonder if this the last time they’ll have to hear you sobbing on the phone. Is this the last time they see your depression? Is this the last time they have to be scared for you?
Ah yes, a mental illness reality that is a treat for everyone.
I Wonder About the Last Depression that Leads to Suicide
I do wonder about the depression that leads to suicide. I don’t tell anyone I wonder about this, and if they ask, I tell them not to worry (and they shouldn’t, there’s no point) and deftly assuage their concerns. I can do assuage fears; it’s one of my powers. If I did, in fact, kill myself tomorrow their worry today would have done nothing other than ruin their dinner. No need to do that.
The Idea of a Last Depression Troubles Me
And still, I find the idea of the last depression and the suicide troubling.[push]There is still some vague hope that refuses to die that I might actually do something useful with my existence. OK, I admit, it’s unlikely, like I said, it’s a vague hope. (Yes, I am aware that I’m useful here and there, but somehow between the crazy and the crazy meds, nothing feels meaningful.)[/push]
There really is no logical reason to stay alive, other than to say, perhaps, there will be plenty of time to be dead later, so there’s no point in speed up the process any.
There is a biological trait that all humans have, the desire to stay alive. Self-preservation, and then of course procreation, is the drive of all life. This is a biological necessity, obviously. Suicide is like a 12-car pile-up during the drive.
I mean if I plunked a bunch of life forms on a planet, I would make sure they had a vested interest in staying there too. After all, I did go to all the bother of putting them there in the first place.[pull]Yes, I’m aware people are built to prolong life, not to end life. It’s instinctual.[/pull]
Suicide is the opposite of this driving force, of our instincts.
(Of course, murder is pretty opposite too, and people do that all over the place.)
My Instincts Don’t Want Me To Die
This explains my illogical hesitation.
But people defy biological urges all the time. In fact, it’s pretty much what a society is designed to do. So even though surviving might be the most ingrained biological imperative, it certainly can be ignored. And no one ignores a biological imperative like me. I left my humanity in my other lifetime.
If you’re feeling like you might hurt yourself get help now. You are not alone. It gets better.
Author’s note: This is a piece of writing. Not to worry.
As equally horrible is the knowledge that even when you do get past a bout of depression, there will be another one after it. In the grips of a deep depression there is little solace in knowing that it will eventually end, because it won’t be the last one.
I’ve been struggling lately with accepting a life living with this disease. It seems so utterly pointless. The time feeling well isn’t enough to get a good life going, and the time spent ill is soul crushing. It’s almost like I am living to just say I didn’t give in. That isn’t good enough.
I cheat the reaper and die while still alive and remain alive. I have a knack for avoiding the desire to be one
and none at the same time. My depression takes me into a vacuum. Why take
the body into a state of non existence? Feelings are fleeting. We as humans are not…
Interesting, I never thought about that ‘thing’ being different for different people. At my worst, when fantasising about death helps get me through, the fantasy is about relief. And release. Knowing that there’s an end in sight. And when I’m well I still see it as entirely logical. There’s a point at which you’ve had enough.
For me too there’s a vague hope that maybe one day I’ll have something to contribute! But sometimes you feel like you’ve just had enough.
It’s one thing to know that you’re more than likely going to bounce back and another to feel it. And for a bipolar person, the bouncing back is extreme… going from wanting to die to being ALIVE and feeling it. But I can’t remember feeling alive when I’m in a depressive. I can’t remember it except as an abstract idea. And while I know it will come back if I wait for it, I can’t feel that. When I’m depressed all I feel is the despair and the want… more of a need really, to die. (no worries, I didn’t get to 36 with this disease without coping mechanisms for that). So yeah. I wonder sometimes too.
“It’s one thing to know that you’re more than likely going to bounce back and another to feel it. ”
Yes, I have made that point many times. It’s true. It sucks. But it’s true.
I feel like if we could pinpoint that _thing_ whatever that thing is that finally tips the scales for people we could save so many lives. But I know, that thing is different for everyone. Still, I wish I knew it so I could fix at least just that one thing.
– Natasha