I’ve always found it strange that people are so wary of “thoughts of suicide.” I first remember specifically wishing to not live anymore when I was 8. I’m about to turn 25.
I do not remember a time when I wasn’t “suicidal.” I have thought about killing myself or simply allowing myself to die just about every day that I am aware of. For the longest time I had no idea this was considered unusual, and once I found out I chalked it up to a personality quirk, one of many… many of which also happen to be in line with severe chronic depression.
I made it this far so I guess I was thinking that even though I feel this way it wouldn’t matter, I just get on with life anyway and keep it inside. I mean, I could be hit by a car tomorrow and die so why is it any different if the risk comes from within myself too?
Two years ago my mom died and I finally had an excuse to let the outside world go. I stayed in my room for almost an entire year, rarely coming out at all. When I shook it off, I moved from my small college hometown to a major city with a friend. I somehow on a whim got myself into culinary school, and when that was done and my lease was up I moved back to my hometown into a tiny rental space. I’m no longer employed, not in school, living off of a trust fund left to me for college and buying a house.
I keep the windows shuttered, lights off. I hardly eat or take care of myself. My passion for music is gone, I just listen to the sound of my fan and… feel nothing. Quiet, darkness, stillness. Solitude.
It is exactly what I want.
And today I realized it’s destroying my life.
Despite being a model student and graduating with high honors from my program that I spent so much time and money on, I cannot convince myself to step out the door and walk the two blocks to the ideal workplace that already expressed interest in hiring me. When I’m asked why I haven’t been hired yet, why I haven’t tried, I say it’s nerves and that I’m afraid of failure or rejection… but the truth is, I would really just rather stay in my dark little space and wither away. I’m losing my will to live.
And I can’t decide if I want to get help or not.