People Who Attempt Suicide Don’t Want To Die

There are frequent reports that of the people who survive suicide attempts, they realized sometime after the pills, or the gun, or the jump, they didn’t want to die. This is obvious. No one wants to die. People who attempt suicide don’t want to die.  They want to be out of pain.

Hopelessness Creates Suicide AttemptsPeople Who Attempt Suicide Don’t Want to Die, They Want to Be Free of Pain

It is obvious that every human wants to live. No matter what their personal circumstance each human claws against death until they either don’t see it coming, or they feel there is no alternative for them.

Many people actually have no problem with that – we call it doctor-assisted suicide. The reason it’s “OK” to kill yourself near the end of your life is because it is medically certain you will be in agony for the short remainder of your existence. In this instance doctors just turn their head while a little extra morphine is administered. Happens all the time.

Bipolar (Mental Illness in General) Isn’t Considered a Terminal Illness

No one, however, recognizes mental illness as a terminal illness. It can never be determined to a medical certainty that the rest of your life will be lived in agony. Even though it might be. Tomorrow might be different. Magic might happen. A unicorn might walk through my front door. But probably not. Tomorrow is probably going to be exactly like today. Only it’ll be Saturday. Yay.

Depression Deprives People of Pleasure, Causes Pain

The problem with a disorder like depression is that pleasure is simply absent. Pleasure in all ways is gone. Desire is gone. Depressed people don’t like anything. Depressed people don’t want to do anything. And even if something extraordinary were to happen, like a unicorn in your living room, it wouldn’t matter. Because the ability to feel pleasure is gone.[push]I don’t want to die. I just really don’t want to live. Like this.[/push]

And if anhedonia weren’t enough to make life absolutely pointless, there’s the adding of pain on top of it. Pain on top of pain on top of the unbearable, unarguable knowledge of more pain. And still, the fact is, I don’t want to die. I just really don’t want to live. Like this.

Hopelessness Makes People Want to Die

And on Tuesday, the doctor I saw basically told me to give up. She told me medications weren’t going to help and I should just work on maintaining a chronic condition. I would not be her patient. There was no point. It was hopeless. Treatment was hopeless. I should go to therapy. (Like more than the 15 years I’ve already done.) A doctor telling you to give up is the definition of hopelessness.

I would suggest a woman like that wants me to die. She practically rolled out a red carpet for me and shoved me into death’s spotlight.

And see, it’s hard to get thrown out by a doctor. It’s hard to have the psychiatrist, one person who’s supposed to believe in you, give up. In this case, a person who didn’t even know me. A hard and heartless stranger decided it was over. And it’s convincing when someone with a medical degree says it. They seem right. Of course I’m done. Of course it’s hopeless.

I Feel Hopeless. I See No Reason Not to Die. It’s Kind of an Issue.

So, what I really feel right now is hopelessness. I feel like there is no point in anything, at all. I’ve always wanted to slice my wrist with a piece of broken glass. So I did. I didn’t see any reason not to. I was hoping I would be found in a puddle of blood on my kitchen floor. So I wrote in my blood, “It’s not your fault.” It’s not. It’s hopeless. That’s no one’s fault.

And I got really drunk. I never get drunk. It’s bad for crazy people. But if life’s hopeless, then it doesn’t matter.

And then last night I got really high. Like really, seriously, fucked up. I wondered what it would be like. And now I know. Normally I would never do that, but without any desire to live, without any hope, there’s no real point in being reasonable.

I wonder if it will go like this. I’ll waggle from idiotic thing to dumb, dangerous thing until something kills me. I think I might. I don’t really see any reason for it not to.


About Natasha Tracy

Natasha Tracy is an award-winning writer, speaker and consultant from the Pacific Northwest. She has been living with bipolar disorder for 18 years and has written more than 1000 articles on the subject.

Natasha’s New Book

Find more of Natasha’s work in her new book: Lost Marbles: Insights into My Life with Depression & Bipolar. Media inquiries can be emailed here.

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