Thoughts about suicide- but I’m not actually suicidal right now

In every movie I’ve ever seen, or story I’ve read, or bereaved family I’ve ever met, there’s a common theme, of the family being angry and hurt at the family member that committed suicide. It makes sense, after all, seems how it often was a case of “we had no idea it was this bad” or “they seemed fine before that” or whatever they say afterwards. They blame the dead person, or think that they did it without thinking of what it would do to those left behind.

I’d like to posit that the reason they do it, is to spare their family any MORE hurt.

My family’s been watching me losing a battle to a chronic illness most of my life. Sure, I have times where I’ve got it together, but hell, I’ve been losing my mind for over a year. Ever since my roommate was suddenly engaged and I had to move out, I’ve been in a downward spiral as my life has made less and less sense and I’ve been trapped in this deep depression.

When I’m around my family, it’s awkward. If I’m depressed, they don’t know what to say. If I’m manic, they’re afraid. I am constantly doing something wrong. I know on multiple occasions my mom has just wanted to shake me stupid. I’m a ticking time bomb. Nobody really knows what to do around me half the time; I’m constantly saying things and doing things that frighten and confuse them, and it’s getting worse.

The best part of a chronic illness is that it isn’t terminal. I just get to get worse, and worse, and worse. Even with medication and therapy and the best support system in the world, I’ll never be better. I’ll always be that wildcard, the slightly odd one you keep away from visitors. I’ll always be someone’s problem, because I can’t even manage living independently right.

But it’s not your fault. When they make that choice, it’s because they can’t fight the pain anymore, and they can’t bear to see yours anymore, either. It hurts so much to keep putting my family through this. So if I do make that choice, it’s not your fault. I know it’s going to hurt, and I know you might be angry at me, and that’s okay. But I couldn’t bear to feel this way anymore and know it would never get better, and know that I’d keep pulling you down with me.

In the old movies and cartoons, when someone would tie themselves to a large rock and throw themselves off a bridge? I’m that millstone. I’m pulling everyone down with me. All I’m doing is cutting the rope to let everyone else get on with their lives. Sure, it’ll be hard at first, because you’re still in the river and treading water, but you’ll be able to swim to shore and keep going.


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