Just Like Anyone

(Originally written October 10, 2006)

Just like anyone…
…or just like a statistic.

nooseI find myself crumbling under the weight of a variety of things: a full-time job (I swear, I don’t remember part-time jobs being this frustrating), a micromanaging manager, a job I constantly feel like I cannot get the hang of, computer programs that cause me nothing but frustration, and a therapy group that is dominated by one member. All of these things seem so small — so trite — but in my mind, they’ve accumulated to a point where I’m ready to collapse.

My thoughts have remained focused on suicide. I think about it often — passing thoughts during the day or serious plans several times a week. I can’t joke about suicide without a stern look from my husband followed by an explanation: “But the sample lotion DID look like it decided to jump off the cabinet ledge and plunge to its death in the sink! I can’t take this mundane life of being a sample lotion anymore! Aaaah!”

Well, I thought it was funny.

I have various detailed plans that have involved scarves, household items, knives, cars… you get the idea.

I don’t come from the “glass is half-full” mentality. Whenever I’m depressed/suicidal, I’ve heard over and over, “It won’t last” or “This too shall pass.” Last and pass, my foot. Like a dreary, rainy day, the clouds break to allow just a bit of sun — enough to give some hope — and then the clouds return and the grey, light drizzle continues.

Events in my life are “grey, light drizzles.” Pouring rain I can handle. I don’t like it but I can deal. Losing my dad several years ago hurt but I managed a brave face. Losing a parent doesn’t happen every day — it isn’t even occasional. It happens twice (biologically speaking here) and that’s it. Annoyances at a job, frustrations with people, and grievances with self are every day. Once the light drizzles last long enough, I’m pretty sure that the sun becomes out of the ordinary instead of the norm. Therefore, suicide is a pretty important topic for me and one that probably will be dealt with on an ongoing basis.

Although with my morbid thoughts, I can’t help but wonder: What would it be like to have been friends with me once I’ve succeeded at suicide? A song by Aimee Mann helps to entertain that thought:

So maybe I wasn’t that good a friend
But you were one of us
And I will wonder
Just like anyone
If there was something
Else I could have done

So maybe it’s true that
Your cry for help
Was oh so very faint
But still I heard and
Knew something was wrong
Just nothing you could
Put your finger on
And I will wonder
Just like anyone

Just like anyone

Yes, yes, I know. Suicide’s a selfish act and I’m a pretty selfish person, but I’m tired of being selfless and living for other people. It’s time I did something for myself.

Small admission: I’m actually quite afraid of succeeding but I’m not afraid of attempting. What an anomaly! Why attempt if you don’t hope to succeed? I don’t buy the “it’s a cry for help” excuse. As I observe my daily life, my natural instinct is to run away from danger — to get out of the way of a taxi. Those who succeed in committing suicide weren’t afraid of death and really WANTED to take away their lives.

But I’ve never had access to a gun. I’m sure if I did, I would have been long gone by now. You can’t screw up pulling a trigger. Or in my case, probably.

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