Author’s note: It’s a couple of days after I wrote this post, and I just wanted to make something a little clearer. This post was written while I was experiencing serious suicidal ideation. I was not however, at the planning stage. I think writing this post kept me from going that far. The point of this post is to show people who have never been here, what here looks like. Because, even the next day it was hard for me to look back and explain it, and I was the one who experienced it. I understand that my family would be devastated if I took my own life. But, that kind of understanding does not penetrate the pure despair that spawns suicidal ideation.
Why do we want it? Why do we think about it? Why do we begin to think it’s a good idea?
This is not an article about science. I’m not good with science and my attention span and memory are so messed up from my meds that the science frustrates me. This is an article about experience. My experience.
Right now I am experiencing a clash, a perfect storm, of problems that lead to suicidal ideation.
I’m depressed. My bipolar is in it’s downswing and I feel like everything is so difficult. I feel like I’m slogging through deep thick mud just to get going.
We are having trouble with our cat. She is peeing all over the house. She is in remission from diabetes, which we found out by her peeing all over the house. She’s still doing it, and we don’t have the money to keep going to the vet to have her tested for everything under the sun. It could be something simple, or it could be something complicated. But at what point do we stop testing and treating and give up? I don’t want to give up, but she’s getting older, and we’ve spent thousands of dollars on her in just the last couple of years. And don’t tell me that I should have adopted her if I wasn’t willing to do everything for her. First, she was left with us by my stepson, so I didn’t choose this. Second, if I had unlimited resources, I would spend them on her, but I don’t. Not to mention that we are going to have to replace the carpet.
Hubby and I are fighting about the cat. When I laid out our feline options and our monetary situation, I began to cry. Which made his frustration overflow. My tears are valid. His frustration is valid. But he’s frustrated about me, too. And, now I feel like he would feel better if he didn’t have to worry about me. He’s afraid I’m going to breakdown over the cat and I’m afraid he’s angry with me.
I know my feelings are valid, but now I also know that he is (again) not telling me things because he doesn’t know which thing is going to set me off. So, he’s holding in work frustrations and other things that bother him. And, for me, the guilt has come raging in , because I feel like I am just yet one more frustration that he has to deal with.
And that, right there, is the problem. It’s the point at which things begin to spiral. I feel like I am making his life more difficult than it needs to be. I can’t work, so I can’t contribute financially. I’m depressed, but there is no discernible reason. I’m irritating him with the cat situation. He’s already frustrated about work. I’m not making things better for him. I’m making them worse.
The suicidal ideation is never about me. It’s always about someone else. When I was a teenager it was that my parents would be happier if they didn’t have to deal with me. As a married woman, it’s that my husband’s life would be easier. And all I want to do, as a wife, is make his life easier. If he’s constantly stressed out that I’m going to have a breakdown at any time, how is his life better? If he’s constantly on guard because he doesn’t know what kind of mood I’m going to be in when I wake up, how am I enriching his life? If his home life and work life are both frustrating, how am I making him happy?
Suicidal ideation is never simple. It’s not selfish. If anything, it’s about thinking about everyone else too much. It’s not about taking an easy way out. These times in my life are some of the most difficult times I’ve ever been through.
This isn’t something I would wish on my worst enemy.