TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide talk. Yup, I know, there’s been a lot lately. I’m going through a hard time, but I’m not going to kill myself and I really hope you won’t either. Get help now and don’t read on if you think it may be harmful for you.
I’m not particularly keen on life right now (*cough* understatement of the century *cough*). There’s been the usual Negative Voice noise but it has been turned up by a few notches. Last Saturday I was put in danger by a guy who’d obviously missed the ‘consent is sexy’ lesson and was trying to get me to do things that I wasn’t interested in. I was scared, it triggered lots of memories and it gave me a shock that I’m still reeling from. Then on Wednesday a particularly insecure girl thought it wise to tell me to die because she didn’t approve of my body. So things have been harder than usual. I have to do lots of work each day convincing myself that life is awesome and worth sticking around for.
I need to keep living because…
Circus is fun
On Monday I really, really didn’t want to have to deal with getting a train out west in peak hour. I didn’t want to expose my body in public or in class. I was shit scared about waiting in the dark getting home. But the tiny part of me that is fighting 100% to keep on keeping on whispered, you will feel better if you go. And she’s right. Throwing myself into crash mats is a great release from my head. Trusting that somebody else can hold me with their feet is a great fuck you to the Neg Voice. And so I will force myself out of bed tomorrow, and I will go to class again, one foot in front of the other until I’m there, having fun, and I don’t even realise until it’s over.
The internet is helpful if I allow it to be
For years I have used sites like Tumblr to reinforce what Neg is saying- that I’m too big, taking up too much space, worthless, unlovable, and on and on and on. There’s good stuff on the web, sometimes it can be harder to find but it is there. I spent a sleepless night downloading inspirational pictures and quotes to my phone so I can scroll through them whenever I need to. Highly recommended as a distraction from suicidal thoughts, and to light (or re-light) the spark of hope in humanity that is in you, in all of us, somewhere.
Beds are comfy and warm and safe
When I got into shit last Saturday and was shaking and freaking out and having flashbacks, I was able to find safety in my bed. My warm, familiar bed with soft sheets and scruffy velveteen toys and the hottest hot water bottle my body could tolerate. This is my space. In my home, that I have created and made safe from the demons of the past. I choose who comes in to my room and my bed and if it just needs to be mine alone for a while, that’s OK. Props also to SACL, who were able to bring me back into my body, and the present, and calm me done enough to breathe deeply again. Help and support, they are good, who knew?
I’ve worked too damn hard in my degree to bail on it now
Part of the increased head noise at the moment is that all my uni work is finished and there’s too much space for the Neg Voice to take over, which it did, almost the second I handed in my last assignment. I was convinced that everything I wrote was crap, and I’m going to fail, and I’ll never get a placement and I’ll never qualify and on and on in a spiral of doom. Reality has proved otherwise- I got my first one back on Wednesday and it’s a HD. Regardless of marks though, I love my course and I’m excited about my future. Dead = no future. Ergo, keep going. KEEP GOING.
People love me and care about me, even when I don’t believe that
I don’t believe this one, well, I find it really hard to accept. I just can’t fathom it. I’m here, I’m dead, what’s the difference? I lived my adolescence thinking I would be dead by the end of it and nobody would care. I tried, twice, to make that happen. To have the beginning of a supportive circle of people around me now, in my 20s, feels incredibly strange. But if I imagine somebody close and dear to me taking their life, and how devastated I would be, then maybe I can see why it’s not just me I’m fighting for. That’s compassion and that’s enough to hold me here. I’ve had this conversation with my Wise Woman a few times recently, and even knowing that she cares is holding me back, just that tiny but vital bit, from stepping over the edge.
Going through rental applications is a pain and I don’t want to inflict that on my housemates
Seriously, it’s awful. You have to interview people, and work out if they are weird enough to fit in but not so weird as to be annoying. And you have to fill out a zillion forms, and update Centrelink details, and vacuum the carpet to make it appear as if there’s no mice living in the house. Exhausting stuff. Wouldn’t wish it my worst enemy, and if I top myself, somebody would have to clean out my room AND go through the horrible process of trying to fill it.
OK, so it’s clear. No self-inflicted death allowed. Must. Keep. Living.