[sorry this is very long]
I’ve been having intense feelings of wanting to die for some weeks now. I feel like I can’t call a helpline and talk out loud in my own language. I’ve always been been better at writing in English.
I have decided on May 2nd, which means only one more week. I’ve got Benzos and I will buy some alcohol. Soon I’ll be free of everything and just get to rest. I’m already thinking in terms of what errands I should take care of and what is no longer necessary. What clothes I want to die in. I’ve written a note, but I will probably write a bit more. On Wed the 1st, I will get my benefits, and I will be able to eat one more meal at my favorite restaurant. I will buy sweets and pastries, and I will spend the evening with my boyfriend, watching things together. It’s a shame I’ll never see this spring, but at least I don’t have to live through another dark depressing winter.
Part of me finds great relief and joy in all this. But another part is very anxious and really doesn’t want to do this. I’m having trouble sleeping and I feel physically sick. But it’s just a beautiful thought that it will all be over.
I feel guilty about how this might affect my family and friends. But they’ll be fine, at least I hope so. Surely my boyfriend can find someone much better than me. My parents have two other children, as well as grandchildren. They’ll probably be OK… but I’m not entirely sure of this. My mother is very sick and I’m worried her heart might fail if she’s too upset about it. But maybe she will be relieved in the end, because I’ve been asking for money and she’s always so worried about me. Soon there will be nothing more to worry about. She can focus on being a grandma and keep her own money and buy something nice. My brothers are healthy and have careers and a good income. They’ll be there for my parents.
Here’s some backstory.
I’ve been struggling with depression most of my life, with bouts of euphoria and excitement in between. I was diagnosed with bipolar type 2 8 years ago, and my meds have helped with mania, but it seems like the depression has been strengthening. I have upped my antidepressant, as the doctor told me to, but I have yet to see any change in my mood or thoughts.
I’m unable to have a full time job, so I work part time with a small pension and some social benefits. Money is always very tight and I’ve had to ask my parents for help. I feel like a burden to everyone. I’m 44 and it’s likely I will never have any kind of career. I wanted to be a writer, but at this age, I feel like it should have already happened. Each year I feel worse about my inability to focus on things and get anything finished. I’m incapable of finishing even a short story. (I have so many ideas, but I just can’t flesh them out.) Writing was going to be the meaning of my life, and now I have no meaning. I just drift from day to day, working very little, watching things online. I’m worried that I might be addicted to sugar, and it probably isn’t helping. I feel like I’m massive and I used to be body positive but I don’t know anymore. (I’m 5’3 and 200 lb ). I wanted to accept my body, but I have a very hard time of it. However, the idea of limiting food, especially sugar, feels unbearable.
I lived with a room mate for six years and we were close, but now we don’t meet each other that often and I feel lonely. I’m in a long distance relationship, and we love each other a lot, but we’re both broke and he is currently unemployed and living with his parents. He is not out to them as either queer or trans. It’s complicated. It was nice to share my daily life with someone, even i it wasn’t romantic. I miss that and I don’t know if I will ever have it again, if the relationship doesn’t pan out. Should I pack my bags and move to the US? (I live in Finland.) I can’t afford it.
I haven’t managed to make a single friend in the two years I’ve lived alone. I have literally three friends. I live in a relatively big city and there are hobbies and peer support groups galore, but the thought of going to one is overwhelming. I’m often scared of new people. I’m volunteering at a cat shelter, which has given me a lot of joy, and I meet people there, but I haven’t made any actual friends. The volunteer work has really kept me going, but now I just feel tired when I go there. I’m just so tired all the time.
I honestly see my future as very bleak. My ability to work increased slightly when I got on meds - I couldn’t work at all in mania - but I have a very small amount of energy. Some days I can’t get anything done at all. I feel powerless and it feels like my life is already over, I’m just going to get older and likely get sick at a young age. I will likely live in poverty my whole life. I don’t feel like I deserve to live. Maybe it’s a mistake that I was even born. I just feel so worthless.
not always easy but it can be changed, these suicidal feelings will also pass. <3 The reason I send this reply is because a very dear friend of mine suffered in the exact way you are describing and she would plan the details of her eventual suicide often for pretty much all the time we were friends which was about 15 years, we went through a lot togeather including a couple of years of not speaking due to people coming between us but we came back to each other.<3 fast forward to June 2019 and I got a call from her mother telling me about her passing and my first question was “did she do it to herself?” the irony is she didn’t…she actually passed from some rare form of sepsis. she was talking quite openly about her death for years though so it was just kind of expectation at that point. She was one of my last true REAL friends, never had another friend like her. I miss her everyday. You never know who your existence is going to affect in this world and just how deeply. Stay…write your stories someone might just see the world and the meaning of life the same way as you but you won’t know if you don’t try 