Falling Apart

*Trigger Warning*

I’ve decided that the best way to keep suicidal thoughts at bay is to just keep busy. And it works, for the most part. This past week has been a blur of appointments and activities. On Tuesday I went into the city to meet with a future students counsellor, on Wednesday I saw Placebo (which was fucking amazing), on Thursday I saw my doctor, and on Friday I did a First Aid course. So I’ve been busy. But the second everything stops, the second I stand still, is when I feel everything falls apart.

It’s like I’m flying and then all of a sudden my wings disappear and I feel the hard earth beneath me. It’s happened too many times and I’m tired of falling. I’m scared that it’s never going to stop. I’ve been suicidal nearly my whole life, for as long as I can remember. Even when I’m manic. I don’t know what it feels like to not feel suicidal. I can’t even imagine what that must feel like. Even as a child I never wanted to live. It’s always been too painful.

I’ve had three failed suicide attempts. The big one was when I was 15 and I overdosed on painkillers. I took a lot of pills and I’m lucky that I didn’t have permanent liver damage. I was in hospital for nearly two weeks after that one. The second one came a couple of years later. I slit my wrists but was too gutless to do it properly. It was bad enough that I needed stitches though. The third and final one was about a year after the second one. I was incredibly drunk and downed a bunch of painkillers. I threw most of it up the next morning and never even went to hospital. I didn’t tell anyone about that one. It’s been ten years since I last attempted suicide.

I’m scared. I’m terrified. I’m worried. What happens if I go down that rabbit hole again? What happens if it gets so bad that I can’t handle it anymore? I’ve been there so many times before. It’s a very lonely place. Being suicidal just isn’t something that a lot of people understand, unless they’ve been there. I keep trying to tell myself that someday it will get better. I keep telling myself that in order to put myself back together I have to fall apart first. I keep telling myself that maybe one day I won’t feel like shit. But am I going to make it to that day? What if it’s too far away and I’m not strong enough? Maybe I won’t make it to that day but I’m sure as hell going to try.

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5 thoughts on “Falling Apart

  1. I know what it feels like, at least as far as feeling suicidal while manic or when euthymic, although I can go for as much as a few months at a time without death thoughts. You’ve made it 10 years and I’ve made it 14 years. We can do it!

  2. So clearly written, and well written. Your intelligence and beauty shine through even your darkest words. Keep talking mental health, and keep writing about it! You have support out here! Lean on us, if you need to. 🙂