The Decision to End Your Life
Two years ago I was very closed off to the idea of sharing my experience with suicide. I had been to the therapists and support groups who claimed that talking about your problems was how to deal with them. This was not my experience. The silence was safer, and shutting people out meant I would hurt them less when the time came. Although I had clawed my way back from what was an unknowing sense of dispair, I didn’t see the value in sharing my experience of it.
As I mentioned in my first blog, two years ago, I met Sheridan Cassidy who made me realise that perspective is everything and sometimes, it is the only thing we need to change. This was a turning point for me and today I’m sitting down to write about the day I made the decision to finally end my life. I do this in the hope that those who resonate will be able to change their perspective and in turn, change and begin to value their lives.
People think it’s a whim, that you aren’t thinking straight or that when you consider suicide, you have to be going through a horrific life event or a series of repeated struggles. This is simply not true. I first started thinking about suicide around ten years ago. I suffered with depression and low self esteem for most of my life and I was always caught in a loop. I hated my job, I lived in a crappy flat and I took this out on my girlfriend at the time. I resented her for putting ‘demands’ on me. All she wanted was to go to the pub from time to time but as my depression grew, so did my lack of interest in anything. Including her.
I felt like every day was this endless cycle of repetition. Nothing mattered and I couldn’t see a way to change it, nor did I have the motivation to try. It was just pointless. The belief that you have to be going through a huge dramatic event to consider suicide is a popular one, but the truth is, it could be something as simple as boredom.
They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. When my girlfriend finally had enough of my low energy, resentment and neglect, it hit me. The last good thing I had was gone. Saying that, I didn’t feel good enough for her. I don’t think I ever did. The day we separated, I felt I had nothing. No one depended on me. No one who would expect to hear from me and honestly, that was all it took. In some twisted way I felt free, there was no reason to try and no one expecting me to. I’d been considering suicide for around 8 years and the day my girlfriend left me I thought, if I end my life, it won’t impact people as much anymore. It began to look attractive. She was the part of my life that gave me temporary moments of happiness that went away during a disagreement or a bad day at work. There was nothing left to care about or to hold on to, so that day I decided. It’s time to go. I was in no rush, I felt I had some loose ends to tie. It wasn’t even to end my suffering from a deep hurt, it was rather a feeling of indifference about life but either way, I knew I was about to go.
Every day at work, I would sit and my computer and my mind would drift to thoughts of ‘do I do pills?’ and ‘what kind of pills can I get’. I googled what drowning feels like and the nearby locations with dangerous deep water. It actually gave me a feeling of exhiliration that I could finally be free in one last rush. I kept thinking I wanted to do it ‘right’ whatever that meant.
I’d sit for hours reading stories of people whose relatives had committed suicide and although their accounts were nothing short of horrific, I felt nothing. I thought ‘they’ll cope without me’. This just furthered the idea that I was doing the right thing.
One day while sitting on the same bus I’d been taking for 5 years, I thought ‘tonight’. I decided to check into a hotel room, drink a bottle of Jack and take pills. I booked the room on my phone then and there and I had this sense of excitement.
As I went about my day I said my goodbyes to all the old familiars. I had a pint at lunch with the guys at work that I actually liked, laughing and joking as though it was a normal day. I actually enjoyed it more as I focused on soaking in the moment. I called my Mum, she just went on about the washing machine breaking and how my sister was thinking of having another baby. I just let her speak and said bye as normal.
That night after checking in and beginning to drink, I called my then ex girlfriend. I didn't expect her to answer but I wanted to hear her voice one last time. My intention was to be totally normal so she wouldn’t suspect anything. She didn't answer after two calls so I started to take the pills. I began to feel the room blur, I wasn’t sure if it was pills or alcohol but then my phone rang. It was her. She sounded upset and she asked to see me. She said she missed me. I told her it was too late in my slurry voice and she kept asking if I was ok and where I was. I wanted to end the conversation quickly as the more upset she got, the more guilt I began to feel. She sobbed uncontrollably as I told her we could never speak again. I hung up on her as she had disrupted my comfortable indifference. She continued to call my phone.
Plagued with the guilt and the sound of her sobs echoing in my head, the room began to blur even more as I felt myself slipping away. It was just that feeling of being so drunk that you can hardly move. I took one last look at a photo of her coming up on my phone as she called and I dialled 999.
I don’t remember the call or much of what happened after that. I woke up in hospital with Mum and Sister next to me, their eyes were red as if they’d up all night and constantly in tears. They stood as I woke and both began to cry. My Mum told me my girlfriend was on her way. The Doctor came in and looked me over and said there was someone coming in to talk to me, I knew what that meant. Then she came. She walked into my room trying to hold back tears, my Mum and Sister stood just behind her and one thing was for sure, I didn’t feel indifferent about my life anymore. I loved this girl, somehow the mundane path of life made me take her for granted. My family were great and were clearly broken at where I’d come to.
As my girlfriend took my hand, she shakily whispered ‘don’t go’. We both fell to tears and then and there, I decided to fix what was making me ill. That is truly what suicidal thoughts are, illness. It doesn’t matter if you push away the people that love you or if you forget how many blessings you actually have, if you are considering suicide, you are ill and illness can be cured.
If you have people who stick by you even when you push them away, hold on to those people, they are your family. I am still friends with my girlfriend from this time of my life and I always will be. We stayed together three more years after this happened and I will always think of her as my reason.
