To Whom It May Concern:

I’m suicidal. And no, it’s not what you think. I am safe. I am not harming myself. I have had multiple plans, but I do not plan on doing anything. But I’m suicidal. And I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t.

Suicide. Killing yourself. That’s what I want to talk about. Specifically, how suicide pertains to me. It’s a highly stigmatized topic, and humans tend to go one of two ways when confronted with it. We either ignore it, or treat it like a priceless china artifact, delicate and frail. This in turn continues a vicious cycle of people wanting to reach out, but not wanting to for fear of judgement and alienation.

People think of things like suicide in such black or white terms. But much like everything else we are so quick to place into categories, being suicidal falls into a gray area for me. Sometimes, I wonder if it does for anybody else. See I can be in a great mood, right? I could be having the best day of my life. Still, suicidal thoughts will linger. I don’t have to be in a bad mood to be suicidal. I will still have those thoughts if I’m surrounded by the people I love, or if I’m doing something I’m passionate about.

Passive vs. active suicidality is something some people have problems wrapping their heads around. I can say with absolute certainty I’m suicidal. I’ve waged a war against depression and anxiety since I was young, and years of fighting an endless battle really does a number on the brain. So I’m suicidal. However, it’s mostly passive. The difference between the two is very simple (but also super complex). Being passively suicidal means you wish to die. Actively suicidal is just that — you’ve got your plan and you’re planning on going through with the plan.

I’m not going to lie to you: a lot of mornings, I wake up thinking I would be better off dead. It’s not early morning blues, it’s a deeply flawed brain chemistry. I go to work, and it wouldn’t really bother me if another car ran the median and slammed into mine. At work, it gets a little better because I’ve got a lot of things to do and distract myself with. I’ve got people who appreciate me and sometimes even laugh at my jokes (you guys are the best). Life becomes OK. However, that can change in an instant. If I say or do something wrong, anxiety tells me I suck and I shouldn’t be here, both at work and in the world. The thoughts come back and I need to fight them off again.

I still feel it, but I try not to give power to it. Throughout the day I am faced with challenges that deeply affect my subconscious. Either the suicidal thoughts get louder, or they remain just a feeling.

I should explain better; sometimes being suicidal is different than suicidal thoughts. It’s an actual feeling. The feeling that you have an itch you can’t scratch, that a dark cloud is shrouding you - it’s a mixed state. You’re drowning, there’s no air, and coming down from that feeling takes so long you think it’s impossible. You have blinders on and you don’t know what’s going to happen next. And while this feeling is happening, you go through your day, as normal as you can, without feeding the feeling.

Some days are harder than others, and today happens to be one of those days. I woke up thinking my friends are better off without me. Feeling worthless. My body feeling heavy. Then I started thinking about my future and my heart sunk a little more. I started thinking about the myriad of other things that tell me my life is worthless and the black hole gets worse.

I understand that way I feel isn’t a reflection of reality. I know in theory I have things to live for, I know people say things will get better.

But its really hard to feel that. To care about that.

I wanted to write this so people better understood feeling suicidal. It’s so much more than just one day someone deciding to end it. It goes deeper than that. It’s years of torment, even on good days. It mostly doesn’t happen randomly — it’s a build-up. I don’t necessarily know that I want to die; my subconscious and my illness may disagree, but I try to make my voice louder.

People with mental illness live in dark places and gray areas. It’s not something that shuts off and on — it comes in waves, it peaks and it fades. Some days, depression breaks me like a tsunami. One big wave in the morning, sometimes for an extra-long time, and then aftershocks throughout the rest of my awake time. Those days, thoughts come almost constantly. Everyone would be better off without you. You’re nothing to them, you don’t matter. No one cares if you’re here or not. Not a damn person.

But these feelings are never gone. And for many of us they never will be. For now I weather the storm.