Suicidality

 I have a lot of personal history with suicide and suicidality. My mother, very likely took her life (can't be confirmed due to no note or witness to her overdose), my uncle killed himself by jumping off a bridge in the town I currently live in, and one of my closest friends Kyle killed himself during a manic episode a couple years ago. Now within the context of these three people, they all had bipolar disorder, and I have been diagnosed with it - a notion that terrifies the hell out of me. With each individual you know personally that has committed suicide, your personal chances of doing it yourself shoot up drastically. 

I have only personally come close to suicide two times within my life. I've been depressed, felt hopeless, have dealt with having a ton of general apathy towards existence; however I have only ever come close to actively taking my own life twice. The first time was a little over a year ago, the night before I had a dream that felt like it had lasted a whole half decade on this earth. I had lived this alternative life where my relationship with the first girl I had truly loved worked out, I had felt each wave of affection, passion, putting together broken pieces that comes with a long term relationship with this girl in that one night. Within that same dream, I was next door to my best friend, Terry, and I was still in good standing with my friend Juan who I had recently had a falling out with and we just lived and enjoyed life together. It was all I wanted at that point, that companionship, that romantic closeness. I was in a relationship at the time that was in hindsight very obviously me attempting to resolve the trauma I had with the girl in that dream, Val, so I was dating this hopelessly codependent person to prove to myself that I could've taken care of Val, as our relationship ended during this time when she was fearful of her mother cutting off the family and I had begun to throw myself in to 50 hour work weeks so that I could support the both of us; and as I reach the point where it seemed to be a reality, she broke up with me. As well during that time I desperately longed for deep connection, some comradery. I wasn't getting it from my partner, I was lying to their face without even realizing it. At work I was very well liked but it was all paper thin, sure everyone liked me, but they didn't know me deeply. They hadn't gazed upon my soul.

So when I woke up from that dream, I cried, I cried a lot. I mourned a life I very literally dreamed of. I loved the lie my brain constructed so much, nothing outside of it felt worth fighting for, a reality that wasn't that which I had lived in that dream was not one I wished to be around for. The ephemeral "what ifs" we distract ourselves when we refuse to accept the past, all those hypotheticals we ponder and consider, they became real for me in a night. Every wish, every desire my soul ached for at that time was given to me and was then taken away from me that day. I hated everything that had become at that moment. A person who had been content and accepting was ripped of those delusions like it was nothing. I wanted nothing more than to stop that, I hated having to grieve that world. I believed myself to not be a person chained by desires of the could have beens, never believed myself to be man with regret. But I felt regret for life that I deeply believed could have been. A life that felt to be all my fault to had not been obtained. "If only had I made better choices" "If I had only understood them more" "If only I had done a better job at keeping in touch" The only thing that kept me over the edge was I instead became insolently angry at others when they tried to get my attention during this state of crippling depression. I focused on that anger and let it distract me until those feeling got repressed, like all my other feelings have been. Another step into the cess-pit of alexithymia. I wasn't emotionally intelligent enough to try and understand  what my brain had begun to try and communicate to me subconsciously. I pushed it down and went forward.

The second bout of suicidality I had was this year. For some reason I had felt compelled to listen to my friend Kyle's favorite album, The Hotelier's "Home, Like NoPlace Is There" I hadn't ever listened to it in full before, never gave it a deep listen. So that time, in mid February of this year I came across two songs on that album.  "Your Deep Rest" and "Among The Wildflowers". Those songs felt like daggers. In their contents were commentaries directed sniper accurate at me. I was called out. I felt I failed that friend, I felt I could've saved them, but I didn't do all that could. All the wasted time cascaded over me, I could've done so much more to keep in touch, make them feel safer, I couldn't accept what kind of friend I had been. "A good friend could've made it not happen" "A good friend could've given them more reason to live, to stay". This time I hadn't distracted myself from the emotions, I didn't cry though. I was numb. I felt a clawing lack of anything. An existential vast nothing. I had no ties to where I was. It could all end and I wouldn't mind, a true nothing would feel better then this nothing full of dread, a nothing that made my throat burn and stomach hurt, made me shake and sweat but freeze and shiver at the same time. I just worked a lot to distract myself from this one. 

I've come to a lust for life recently. For as long as I could remember I have been fighting. I was surrounded by failed adults. I never had an example, a role model. All of the relationships I was exposed to as child, Toxic. They had no discipline, complete slaves to their desires. The people who were supposed to have my best interest in mind had done everything to ensure that I was given the worst of opportunities. I have such a deep love for Terry and his dad, Andy, because these were the only two people I can point at and say were the two positive influences I had. But in all the other adults, I had grown a resentment. I had to prove something to them, prove something to myself. I had to prove it could be done, if you white knuckled it, gritted your teeth, put in the work, had the discipline; IT COULD BE DONE. I wanted to show them that they didn't have to fail me if they just had the will, what they lacked was strength and I was going to show them what real strength looked like. And I did it. I worked my ass off. I reached the top of my workplace. I was the king on his throne, a throne built on the hate filled temper tantrums of a kid that wished he had been able to live. I did it. I proved to myself that with determination and discipline I could make it, but I wasn't happy. While I could prove to myself that success was a possibility, that it was within my abilities; I never even thought to ask myself what I wanted for myself. I was so busy in my pursuit to show up these adults that I never even begun to ask what I wanted. I wasn't living for myself. In a bitter irony, I had come to realize that those adults still ruled and controlled my life, just now it was through trauma instead of their actions. So I started taking steps towards what I wanted. 

I gave up that top position, I couldn't begin making the steps I wanted if I was working 60 hours a week.  I couldn't make the steps I wanted if I kept that position and the weight it carried. I stepped down. Stepping down let me break up with a person I had no love for, let me run from their hold on me. Stepping down gave me the opportunity to spend time with the girl I do love. A girl who was a coworker. I had heard for so very long that you should never date someone you work with and I let those words control my decisions. But now, I was ready to do things for me. I was ready to forgo all that conventional advice. I knew what I wanted. I had been watching her for so long. I felt the chemistry and happiness between us. I knew her for two years. She was at the end of her relationship and I was not going to let this pass me by. I knew if I hadn't taken my chance then this would've become yet another what if, another regret that I didn't want to live with. So I started flirting, hard. I made her fall deeper for me, feelings that we always knew that there, but were too scared to let be revealed. I pursued something I wanted, purely for me, a declaration of the person I was, a person I was hiding away. She's beside me right now, and there isn't a single doubt that it wasn't the right decision. She's the best thing to happen to me since I have become an adult. I am so very happy I listened to myself. I listened to what my soul wanted. And thats what I have started to do, I have begun to listen to my soul. It always had the answers I just chose to ignore them. Always concerned myself for what was optimal, what was going to give me the most gains, I minmaxed life. Never made me happy. But letting my emotions poke through, emotions that weren't anger or bitterness, that led me to some happiness. 

I do think those years of rigorous work helped to get me there however. I gave myself quite the safety net. It became easier to listen to my heart when the next meal became a guarantee. When  I could consider stuff like fasting for the hell of it instead of fasting because all that was for dinner was air. I don't have to worry so much about the stability of my future because I've professionally secured it with my accolades and experience. And those adults? I have truly forgiven them and love them, I don't carry that resentment anymore, but thats for another long spiel. I have learned to forgive. Truly forgive. Learned to accept. Truly accept. Right now I am the  happiest I have ever been.