Content warning: descriptions of suicidality, attempted suicide, and depression.
The desire to die has been a core part of my experience for as long as I can remember. If it seems like that statement puts a question mark around everything I've said so far about joy /love and splendiferocity, I assure you, these things are all true together. Every morning, I leap out of bed with the splendiferocious energy of a terrier puppy, ready to live my best day ever. Then I go around with my heart bursting with joy/love for the people I find in the world with me. But by the time evening comes around, I'm usually pretty tired. Some of the activities of the day have placed a heavy sensory burden on my brain, and this fatigue often manifests as suicidality.
There are other factors, I believe, that aggravate this daily cycle. I'm too smart for my own good and can think myself into a depressed mental state quite easily. Being neurodivergent within a system of norms designed to develop, control, and reward neurotypical people has undoubtedly contributed to an accumulation of stress and exhaustion. But beyond all these, I think the most significant factor leading to my chronic suicidality was the family system I was raised under. It was never acceptable to voice my thoughts or feelings growing up. My father set the tone by exercising total control and there wasn't room for anything else.
So when I was told at age seven that my family would be moving away from the only home I had ever known, the distress, fear, anger, and confusion I felt could only be directed inward. At first, I was only trying to cry quietly with my face stuffed into my pillow. Then I was trying to stop my breathing with the pillow, but the automatic response of my body made actual suffocation impossible to achieve that way. I raged against that pillow for what felt like hours before sheer exhaustion put me to sleep.
That failed attempt marked the start of a lifelong struggle with the desire to die, emerging as an answer to situations where authentic expression and processing of experience is not a viable option. Things are different now. I have ways of expressing myself that alleviate this pressure most of the time. I have friends who make space for me to be what I am and they love me because of it.
In case this subject has been triggering, I include two resources that have been a literal lifeline for me over the years. The suicide crisis hotline for the US and Canada is 988. They respond over text if you don't feel like talking. I've used this number to work through the worst thoughts, and it does help. Also, NAMI.org is a great resource for localized support.
Image prompt: a child wearing pink Barbie flannel pajamas and tears on her face fights an epic battle against a white pillow monster, surreal horror nightmare, graphic misery, dramatic scene, children's book illustration style
This image was difficult to make because it does such an excellent job of capturing what it felt like to be so desperately frustrated. I give my child self of that day a lot of love.
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