I know what it’s like to feel like you just can’t do this living thing any more. I fear that my life will inevitably end the same way as that of Robin Williams and every unknown person who committed suicide on the day the actor took his life and those who have taken their lives in the days since. It’s easy for people to talk. Nothing is easier than talking. Most of the time the talking comes down to blaming you for your suffering, especially if you’re not in therapy or on medication or both. You’re perceived to be doing nothing but just choosing to wallow in your condition whatever that condition might be. I’ve done the therapy bit. I’ve been on medication. I’m sure Robin Williams had a therapist. He’s been in rehab. He’s been on medication. I’m sure most of the people who committed suicide the same day he did, the days before, the days after–the ones who will commit suicide today–some were in therapy and/or on medication at one point or another. Others were in therapy and/or on medication at the time of committing suicide.
I can’t speak for anyone else as to how and why they suffer. Robin Williams was a rich and famous man. He had all the things some of us think is everything anyone needs in order to be happy. But in a moment of feeling like he could no longer bear to live, he ended his life.
When I woke up this morning I had one of those moments. For me they come on usually in the middle of the morning. I’ve spent so much time trying to fix my own problems that I’ve come to realize a number of factors and patterns that have nothing to do with my mind; and this has helped me keep things well enough in perspective that I’ve so far been able to suffer through the moments without doing anything to hurt myself. As life goes on and time passes and my mental state deteriorates naturally due to age I don’t know that I will have the necessary amount of control over my faculties to be able to conquer that overwhelming need to die that comes over me in these moments. But I have realized that, at least for me specifically as I cannot speak for anyone else, these moments come about as a result of multiple factors including chemical triggers that get into my system via what I eat and even via my sense of smell; and they also come about as a result of hormonal triggers. Recognizing this has helped me resist the many mad impulses that strike me during these times. I understand that something is in my system interrupting my normal mental functioning and I have to get up and get my blood flowing and refocus my mind so that I can conquer the feeling of doom and gloom. But I do fear that one day the momentary interruption to my system will be so severe that I won’t be able to recognize that I am in a chemically or hormonally altered state of mind and I’ll act on the impulse to end my life that always strikes me during these times.
As for my fibroids today, they are insanely huge. The hormonal triggers of my suicidal impulses are food for my fibroids. My blood is poisoned at the moment with exactly what the fibroids need to keep them thriving.
Note: I don’t talk about my “suicidal impulses” as if they are trivial. To go through any kind of pain that makes you think about ending your life is nothing trivial. I don’t have a blasé attitude about it. There was nothing trivial about how I felt this morning when I first woke up; but it is amazing to compare then to now. Imagine had I not understood that it was my system malfunctioning and not that I have such insurmountable mental burdens–not that I was sunken to such an abysmal depth of despair and hopelessness–I might have ended my life not knowing the impulse to do so would be a thing of the past and that killing myself would be an inconceivable thought to me an hour later.
