Most of my time is spent worrying that decisions I am making are ruining my whole life. Some of these decisions are actually important, others are along the lines of “should I stop for coffee on my way to work, or make it at home.” With everything I do, the thought that I wouldn’t have to make any decisions if I were dead, lingers in my head as casually as remembering to pick up milk.
My days usually start like this:
- Wake up
- Remember that I am alive
- Go into a fit of anxiety, and think of ways I can end my life before the day starts
- Tone it down a little to think of excuses I can use to hide from life in my bed all day
- Finish crying and get on with my day
It takes me an exhausting 30 minutes to an hour to convince myself that I am capable of living another day.
Over the years I’ve developed a strong mask for my “negative” feelings. Most people who know me have no idea what I deal with daily. I’ve struggled with anxiety my whole life and was diagnosed with depression in college, along with what they called “passively suicidal thoughts.” This basically means that I am not actively trying to kill myself, but if the world were ending today, I would be completely content to die.
I’ve never seriously attempted to hurt myself. There was an instance when I was 13 and “all my friends were doing it,” so of course I had to try. Since I don’t personally inflict injury to myself, every time I do get hurt, whether it’s a burn from cooking, or a nick when I’m shaving, I feel indifferent and slightly pleased because ultimately, I feel that I deserve to hurt.
For me, self harm isn’t just purposely injuring myself. It’s turning the shower just hot enough that it’s uncomfortable. It’s falling in love quickly with boys I can’t have, or I know will break my heart. It’s telling and trusting people with my secrets, knowing they don’t care. It’s begging for attention when I know I won’t get it, and doing things that I know make people upset with me.
The key word here is obviously that I “know.” Some people might say, “oh, that was just a mistake,” or “you were just a bit clumsy,” when that isn’t actually the case. I know that hot water burns, and that boy doesn’t love me, and that no one will be available when I decide I need attention. I know these things and I still do them. That, to me, is self harm.
I do those things every day of my life, while also living a partially successful life for your average 22 year old. I just moved out of my mother’s house to a town three hours away. I am enrolled to go back to college to finish my degree in the fall. I have job opportunities and interviews coming a few times a week. My life isn’t totally together, but it is in a place where I can’t afford to totally give up. I have too many people rooting for me, and to be completely honest, I’m excited for what the future holds.
Where my life is going and where my brain is going are two different directions. My life, when I really think about it, is great. My brain, on the other hand, is still trying to convince me that I’m better off dead. I do feel guilty for having such intrusive thoughts about ending my life while my life is just starting this new chapter. The only way I can deal with the guilt is to remind myself daily, that despite what my brain might tell me, I am happy and I am safe. Just because I am in a stressful and transitionary period of my life, it doesn’t mean that I deserve to die.
Another reminder for myself would be that, just because things are going great, it doesn’t make my suicidal thoughts any less valid. They are thoughts that I have and deal with, they’re a part of me, and as long as I don’t act on them and continue to deal with them safely, I will be just fine.
So while I am living with these “passively” suicidal thoughts, I am going to continue to move forward in my life. I am going to continue to work on my degree, I’ll continue to write and edit, and I will work as hard as I can to get to where I need to be. Just because my brain is telling me I should be dead, doesn’t mean my heart will let me listen.
