The Darkest Hours

After I described my depression to my doctor one time, he asked, "What keeps you going?" I simply shook my head and said, "I don't know."

What I wanted to say is that I'm not really very good at killing myself. I am more afraid of surviving a suicide attempt than I am afraid of death. I have never been an inpatient and I don't want to be one.

When I think of suicide, I think of the logistics. For instance hanging. First you need the rope. I'm not really sure what type to get or how to tie a noose but I'm sure I could get some information on the internet. But how do you know where to tie the noose? I think I would botch the job. A gun. A boss once gave me a gun after my house was broken into. I kept it for a couple of days and then returned it. I knew I was at serious risk with a gun in the house. Oddly, his wife's father killed himself with a gun. Slitting wrists isn't effective, I know the stats. It's also messy. Jumping. Where I live there is brand new beautiful bridge. There is a sidewalk on it where people walk. I think it is about 4 miles long. I would love to walk it but I don't trust myself. I think I could be a jumper. I wonder what it feels like as you're falling. I've tried pills, obviously didn't work. My son killed himself with carbon monoxide. Virginia Wolfe put rocks in her pocket and walked into the water.

The urge to kill myself washes over me several times a day. I push the thoughts back. I think of my husband. The thought of him finding me or having to ID my body is probably the biggest deterent. He doesn't deserve that. He also doesn't deserve a depressed wife. (I'm working on it!)

Strange as it may seem, I have worked on hotlines. I have "talked people off the ledge." Because I am a sufferer, I am very sensitive to the pain of people with depression. I am suicidal but I don't advocate suicide.

After one of my son's suicide attempts I was in the hospital ER waiting for him to be stablized and committed. The man behind the curtain in the "room" next to him was there for a heart transplant. He was rushing back from the bathroom in an big hurry. The nurses told him to slow down, it was dangerous for him to be rushing around. There two people lay side by side one desperate to live and one desperate to die.

I am writing very candidly so that people like me, people who live wishing to be dead, might come together. I talk about a very, very taboo subject. I am writing the blog I had hoped to find but couldn't. Maybe collectively we help each other cope. I also hope to connect with other who have lost someone to suicide.