Suicide spaceship

Feeling suicidal isn’t as hellish as you’d imagine. 

The thought of finally being free from the shitpit of your life is more like a feeling of deep relief, like sinking your tired, sick to the bone body into to a warm scented oil infused bath. It feels like you might be able to finally rise above your pain and ascend to the suicide spaceship of freedom. 

At least that’s how the idea of topping myself feels for me. 

It’s a fucker of a thing to write about because I fear what people’s reactions might be. More of those scared, pitiful looks from people who have never felt this and the small erosion of my flailing career as those in the business of entertaining, shrink away.  
Mental illness is sexy only when you’re young.

I am meant to have my life together by now.  I don’t really. 

Oh and the comments on the social medias that will follow this, make talking about my suicidality seem like a serene stroll in the fecund rainforest. 

‘I’m here if you need’... ‘ You’re so strong and brave.’ .... 'You’re not alone’ 

…….. please don’t. 

The truth is I am alone when I am in my darkness. 
To quote the seminal Seuss in ‘Oh the places you’ll go.’ 

“Alone is something you’ll be quite a lot. Alone whether you like it or not.”
Yeah. Seussian science. 

I’m not saying all my friends are fucked because they are not there for me. 

This simply isn’t true. They are there for me but they can’t fight this battle. 
They can help me feel less alone and do so by loving me and checking in. 
They do this.  Bless ‘em. My dear friends love me despite my mess. 

No matter the efforts, I am alone. 

I know people want to be there but they can’t always be and besides, this isn’t about them, it’s about me and my sometimes broken shit brain.   

I’m alone in my head and that’s where my Aleppo is.  
The one of the things that we all secretly share is that ultimately we are all alone.

It’s a funny, sad paradox…. 

Anyone who thinks differently believes in a god or a benevolent universe and that’s at least one delusion I don’t have. Sometimes I wish I did, it must be nice. 

One of the closest times I have ever been to actually doing it was post a car accident, nearly 2 years ago 

It was a strange surreal feeling; watching the sea and thinking about my dead body floating in her perfect blue. It shocked me. That night, I nearly called an ambulance at 2am with the thoughts swirling around, my brain was being a fucking arsehole troll and goading me into a decision I felt to thick with bleak to stop. 

But I did stop it. 

Earlier that day I was at the beach when the sea called me in. That gorgeous giantess knew how sad I was and seemed to want to help. The dead star in my heart weighted my broken body down and the drag was fucking immense. I would not weigh that much in the sea. I would float. 

I wanted that fucking relief so much but I couldn’t do it as much as I ached for it. 

So I made a deal with the sea. It involved me writing the world’s greatest book before I could reward myself with ending my pain and floating into her largeness.  See what I did?…  yeah, I pulled a swifty with my own darkness. 

The next day I went to my therapist and told her that I was suicidal. I didn’t want to fucking tell her. But not being honest with your therapist is like faking orgasms…. It’s fucking pointless and shit doesn’t get better by pretending.
I thought she’d admit me to hospital. I didn’t want to go, I don’t want to be drugged. I didn’t want the shame of failing at another fucking thing. 

She didn’t send me off to the psyche ward. She asked a few important questions about my grand suicidal plan, I didn’t actually have anything solid. Then she said I was doing a great job of looking after myself and that I was pretty fucking smart for tricking the sea. 
She reminded that I just had a really big car accident only 2 weeks before I was in shock and that I had Acute Traumatic Stress Disorder plus I was also having a really hard time dealing with loneliness and homelessness.

She helped me remember my brilliant realisation from years before, that the urge to end my pain was different to wanting to die. 

I know this. I mean I usually know this, but sometimes I forget. Most of my death thoughts are because I am hurting so much and I just need relief. 

Not being in pain makes sense and I just needed to find a better way out of my pain but doing so involves hard work. I don’t want more work. 

I was fucking completely exhausted because I was already fighting with all I knew for my shitty messing fucked up life. 

I was homeless staying at my friends place while they relocated, my son had disappeared in a teenage haze of hubris and hadn’t called even after he knew about my car accident, and even my on again off again lover of 20 years hadn’t come over the night of my accident, despite him being 10 mins away. 
I’ve had no family for a long time, I mean I do have family but they really don’t like me. I embarrass them I think. Anyway I was alone and I had to keep fucking fighting despite my utter, complete and abject exhaustion and loneliness. 

Then my therapist gave me homework and told me to invite friends over for dinner because I was isolating myself. FFS. I rolled my eyes and left. 
What a stupid fucking idea. 

A week later, I did what she suggested, it was a weird dinner and me being me, who is always uncomfortably honest about my mental stuff told them that my therapist told me to do this dinner party. But my friends were lovely and forgave my burnt offerings and I actually had a beautiful night. 

I’m lucky I have friends like this. I know this.
They made me feel better just by loving me they way I was. 

It was a good idea that dinner; my therapist wasn’t stupid. I was. Typical. 

So the suicide spaceship didn’t pick me up and take me to Nirvana that time but it sparkles and hovers near me when I am down. Oh I get down a lot. 

And not like James Brown. 

I have episodic reactive depression. Basically that means when shit hits the fan I sometimes hit the floor and don’t get up for a while and most things feel pointless and nothing really feels good. It’s childhood abuse stuff mixed with a genetic predisposition. It’s mostly manageable with therapy and is always lovely when it ends.
Like having a bliss shit. 

I have to be really careful with my life choices, like I can’t drink like I used to, or take party drugs, I’m a shit and annoying drug user anyway so I can’t numb my pain with substances, which is ultimately a very good thing I reckon. 

But I do like getting drunk but that shit just brings the spaceship closer. 

So when the death star hovers and the dead star drags, I lay, sit and walk like a zombie in my own private hell day after fucking day. 

And I fight to keep living because I know it will pass. 

It always does. 

There’s only one thing that stops me from planning my own beautiful death in my fog of doom. 

It would hurt the people I love. I know this hurt. 

I’ve been really hurt by my friends killing themselves. 

Why would I add to it? 

I can’t do that. So I fight. 

And in my darkness at 3 am with my failed life mocking me with garish anxiety clowns popping in and out of my slumber as I sob into my pillow and suicide Scotty wants to beam me up, I shrug, roll over and think of my funeral with my fucking shitty family taking over like they do and ruining the day of mourning for my friends and I think of my friends feeling like arseholes for not being there even though they couldn’t because no one can be there 24/7 and I imagine their faces and I feel so sad I’ve let them down….. and then I see my son walk in.   
I see his face. FUCK! 

I realise then I can’t hitch into the galaxy just yet.  I made a decision when I was 20 to have a child. It’s my job to teach him and guide him. I need to do better, I need to find a better way. I need to do the fucking hard work. I need to show him how to fight for life. 

So weeping still, I roll over, turn my wet salty pillow to a fresher side at 4 am and try to sleep. 

Day in day out until… 

Today. 

Today I am still a bit of a mess, I don’t have my life together, my family still don’t really like me,  6 months ago the job I loved liquidated a few weeks after I injured my wing and then I got rid of all my lovers. 

I’m ok but. 

I just had a lovely cup of tea, there’s soft rain falling, I’m in ugg boots in my temporary but beautiful home, my injury is getting better, I can play guitar again now, I can write, my son and his friend are coming over to learn how to sew, they might not turn up but I’ll be here though. 

And the sea and I still laugh at the joke I played on myself….

4 comments

  • Ebony

    Ebony Byron

    I hear you so much in everything you are saying. All that you say is so real and so true for me also. Family is a big one. My mum always suggested that I was in the way and that ended up with me believing that I was not good enough for anybody and that I had to get out of important people’s way because I was an inconvenience or something. My dad is someone I can’t rely on because he asked me for sexual favours when I was nine. Someone asked me the other day why my sisters went to trinity catholic college and why I went to the public schools.. I said well they had a father willing to pay child support so that they could go to those schools.. my dad didn’t.. now he is saying that if I don’t support him in his aged care then I will be cut out of his share of his family’s money. What do you think I should do? We are poor and we are struggling with bills and dept living in community housing rentals. We could have what all my cousins will and have already had if only I spend some time with my abuseive father. Every day feels like lead trying to work it out and I feel so sad that my sisters and I are in this position. It is not fair!! I don’t think we should have to give up the family money just because our father is an abusive man. But it seems that it is the advice we get.. just let it go it is not worth it... He didn’t earn the money, grandma and grandpa did.. I am so bitter about it because during the time when he was calling me and telling me all about the money we would be getting, I was working in a great job and stupidly got a Credit card 💳 and thought that it would all work out. Now it seems that I will be living with a bad credit rating for the first time in my life.. my bad.. and having to realise that yes I was truly in the way and that no one in the family cares about myself or my sisters.. lucky I haven’t felt like ending it all lately.. but there has been many times when I have. After being unemployed for a while, I thank the new work options and the people I work with right now for giving me some sense of perspective and purpose!!

    I hear you so much in everything you are saying. All that you say is so real and so true for me also. Family is a big one. My mum always suggested that I was in the way and that ended up with me believing that I was not good enough for anybody and that I had to get out of important people’s way because I was an inconvenience or something.
    My dad is someone I can’t rely on because he asked me for sexual favours when I was nine.
    Someone asked me the other day why my sisters went to trinity catholic college and why I went to the public schools.. I said well they had a father willing to pay child support so that they could go to those schools.. my dad didn’t.. now he is saying that if I don’t support him in his aged care then I will be cut out of his share of his family’s money.
    What do you think I should do?
    We are poor and we are struggling with bills and dept living in community housing rentals. We could have what all my cousins will and have already had if only I spend some time with my abuseive father.
    Every day feels like lead trying to work it out and I feel so sad that my sisters and I are in this position. It is not fair!! I don’t think we should have to give up the family money just because our father is an abusive man. But it seems that it is the advice we get.. just let it go it is not worth it...
    He didn’t earn the money, grandma and grandpa did..
    I am so bitter about it because during the time when he was calling me and telling me all about the money we would be getting, I was working in a great job and stupidly got a Credit card 💳 and thought that it would all work out.
    Now it seems that I will be living with a bad credit rating for the first time in my life.. my bad.. and having to realise that yes I was truly in the way and that no one in the family cares about myself or my sisters..
    lucky I haven’t felt like ending it all lately.. but there has been many times when I have.
    After being unemployed for a while, I thank the new work options and the people I work with right now for giving me some sense of perspective and purpose!!

  • Sarah

    Sarah Bruns

    There’s a lot of letting go in life eh, Ebony? Our breath and our heartbeat are reliable mantras to get into the moment and stem the thoughts. Thoughts and self speak are like grey clouds scuffling across the blue sky. Be in each moment and each breath and you’ll find relief from the mind. Lots of love and understanding...

    There’s a lot of letting go in life eh, Ebony?
    Our breath and our heartbeat are reliable mantras to get into the moment and stem the thoughts.
    Thoughts and self speak are like grey clouds scuffling across the blue sky.
    Be in each moment and each breath and you’ll find relief from the mind.
    Lots of love and understanding...

  • Cubby

    Cubby Brunswick Heads

    I know suicide.....intimately. i gave it one hell of a go. Ended up in ICU for 3 days. But try as I did, I did not succeed. I made several more attempts because of the guilt, the shame. I've been in psych wards, under suicide watch in hospitals and it's definitely not something I make public. But.....we need to discuss this. So I am at the high risk of exposing myself. It's so easy after life's constant barrage of hefty blows, over a long time, realising the ones you thought loved you scream at you spewing out a lifetime of hatred and jealousy. Something snaps. It's fast, illogical and determined. A lever in your brain gets flicked and a chemical released. You are its servant and you believe the whole world will be better if you do away with yourself. IF ever you feel incredibly depressed, there are people to call who will talk with you. Sometimes we need someone to hear our pain. Reach out. Do it! Don't let your depression ever get to far. Better to call early and prevent a lifetime of pain for all those you love. And as far as your abusive father's will is concerned Ebony, you can appeal at the cost of his estate. You don't have to compromise nor sell yourself short on your principles. It's your inheritance too. This is family law, another thing I am well acquainted with. Life can be dark. Hopeless. Bleak. But always, always believe better days are ahead. Here for you if you ever need to talk xxxx Hope is the key. The Golden Key and I now know my days of suicide are well behind me xxxx

    I know suicide.....intimately. i gave it one hell of a go. Ended up in ICU for 3 days. But try as I did, I did not succeed. I made several more attempts because of the guilt, the shame. I've been in psych wards, under suicide watch in hospitals and it's definitely not something I make public. But.....we need to discuss this. So I am at the high risk of exposing myself. It's so easy after life's constant barrage of hefty blows, over a long time, realising the ones you thought loved you scream at you spewing out a lifetime of hatred and jealousy. Something snaps. It's fast, illogical and determined. A lever in your brain gets flicked and a chemical released. You are its servant and you believe the whole world will be better if you do away with yourself. IF ever you feel incredibly depressed, there are people to call who will talk with you. Sometimes we need someone to hear our pain. Reach out. Do it! Don't let your depression ever get to far. Better to call early and prevent a lifetime of pain for all those you love.
    And as far as your abusive father's will is concerned Ebony, you can appeal at the cost of his estate. You don't have to compromise nor sell yourself short on your principles. It's your inheritance too. This is family law, another thing I am well acquainted with. Life can be dark. Hopeless. Bleak. But always, always believe better days are ahead. Here for you if you ever need to talk xxxx Hope is the key. The Golden Key and I now know my days of suicide are well behind me xxxx

  • Michael

    Michael Brooklet

    Thank you

    Thank you

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