You know how people say things like, “Being The One is like being in love - you just know. Balls to bones.”
Okay, maybe the only time anyone said that was in The Matrix (or quoting The Matrix), but you get my point. Some things, you just know. And whereas the other day I was in a state of limbo re: do I really want to live or not? I’ve come to a conclusion. For now, anyway.
Yes, yes I do.
And perhaps in perfect opposite style of my last post, the way I came to this was thanks to a little help from my friends. I had thought that I had to make myself an island but my post, my video, was my one last flare being sent up, saying, “Please help me!” I didn’t expect a rescue effort. I assumed everyone was used to and sick of my shit - assuming they saw it at all. Truth be told, only one person reached out to me. But that one person was all it took.
I felt compelled to sit down and write because I’ve been more suicidal recently than I have been in some time. Last year when I was going through SSRI withdrawal and an enormous upheaval of my entire life at the same time, I was also quite suicidal. I honestly don’t remember if I addressed it directly - it would have been around the time that I started this website. That was a different flavor of nuts. That was almonds, this year it’s cashews.
I had an exchange with my friend the other day that revealed to me how much I had grown. In life, in the past year, in general. I told them that I went to Goodwill to cheer myself up because I was depressed; then I admitted that I had driven around old locations in town that reminded me of people no longer in my life while listening to sad music so the only person to blame for my mood was me. As such, I concluded, it was entirely my responsibility to proactively pull myself out of that mindset and do something to make myself feel better.
TW: Suicide, Self harm
Someone told me once, “You taught me to love suicide.”
They went on to clarify that my intense suicidal idealization as a teenager exposed them to the fragility of life and how to face the thought of death without turning away or pretending it didn’t exist. This was a wildly profound thing to be told and obviously it stuck with me.
A friend of mine recently asked me about boredom and quickly losing interest in things for folks with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). I figured it was probably related to the depression symptoms of BPD and didn’t think too much about it after that. Recently I’ve started to turn this question over in my head again which I’ll return to in a little bit. First a little backstory.