One of the worst things to me about depression is losing the will to do pretty much everything. I lose the motivation to work out, do class work, eat, just getting out of bed in the morning is a horrible chore.
I often think back to when I attempted to kill myself and it scares me. The day before I attempted it, I decided to clear my bedroom so it could look nearly deserted. I took all of the posters down from my walls. I went through my clothes and put a lot of them in a garbage bag to throw out. I took everything off of my messy dresser, all of my books, birthday cards, jewelry, etc., and put them into boxes and bags. I remember my dad walking in and asking me what I was doing. I told him I was trying to clean and get rid of the clutter in my room so I could be more organized. He seemed a little confused and hesitant to let me finish, but he walked away and let me keep "cleaning".
My family was out doing something on the day I attempted suicide. I can't remember what they were doing. I was home alone. I used to imagine myself acting very frantic and sobbing when I was about to try to kill myself, but I was extremely calm. That's part of what scares me the most, my thought process on that day. I was not worried. I was not scared. There was no chaos in my head. The consequences of what I was about to do did not cross my mind. There was just quiet and calm, an eerie calm. My mind was set. After thinking about it constantly, I was finally going to do it and I was not going to back out this time. I wrote a note to my family telling them it was not their fault. That I'm sorry I caused them pain and that I hoped they could move on the best they could. Then I just thought about how much I was ready to be gone. Be gone forever, finally at peace. My family came home and found me before it was too late luckily. Well, I didn't feel lucky at the time. I felt like I had let myself down by it not working.
I still think about suicide a lot. I put on my poker face and pretend like I don't, but I do. It is always in the back of my mind. I think about ending it and finally being able to sleep like I need to. I feel like I've never gotten enough sleep. I think about escaping from the pain, leaving everything in my past permanently. The idea of me committing suicide is like when a dog gets a flea. The flea is always there, constantly nagging me, begging to be scratched.
The only thing holding me back from attempting it again at this point is my family. I already hurt them and scared them with my attempt. I can't put them through that again. I can't let them feel that kind of pain if I tried again, and I especially can't put them through the pain of having to say goodbye to me if I did attempt it again and was successful.
I saw a worm in my backyard earlier that made me think of myself and how I feel. The worm is slithering slowly, trying to edge itself on, but does it even know where its trying to get to? What is the point of trying to keep slithering? The worm sees all of the beauty up above it, and it wants to reach up and join that beauty, experience and live in it, but it can't. It wont. It has to stay stuck on the ground, in the dirt. Some people look at the worm and think of how pathetic it is. Some people even try to step on it. The worm knows its pathetic, but it slithers on anyway for some unknown reason, maybe just for the sake of not having anything else to do. The worm will live its life like this, unwanted and unfulfilled, until its time is up. Then maybe it will feel satisfied at last.
You're last post helped me.
