There have been a handful of times in my life when wanting to die moved towards wanting to kill myself. All these times actually gave me hope. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel if I go through with it. The pain will stop. The continual struggle that I go through will end.
I’m fast approaching that time again. I don’t want to keep going through with life. I want everything to end. I honestly don’t know what I’m waiting for. Why haven’t I gone through with this by now. After decades of wanting to die or wanting to kill myself, I’m still here. But why?
I was thinking of this question the other day. Something hit me. I just want someone to tell me it’s ok. I want someone to tell me it’s ok to kill myself, that people won’t love me less when I’m gone. I know… theoretically, I won’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’ll be dead; yet it does. It matters more than anything to me to know that I made a difference. That the struggle I’ve endured for years was worth it to someone. That when it’s all over, someone will miss me. I don’t know that I can say that.
Everyone is replaceable. Everyone, including me. If I’m replaceable, why do I still need to be here? Someone will replace me at home. Someone will replace me at work. There’s no reason for me to be here. I can be done.
I had a friend in college that told me that I needed to make up my mind what I wanted to do and follow through. Do I want to live? Then get help and move on. Do I want to die? Then go ahead and kill myself. That might sound cruel but it’s probably the most real answer I’ve gotten in my decades of working with people to make the pain stop.
There’s 102 days until my birthday. I don’t know what to do. I’m scared and alone.