Unsent Letter #1 - Tue, May 28, 2002
Last Saturday I tried to kill myself. It's pretty laughable in hindsight. I tried to choke myself with a towel. Of course when I started to black out, my arms went slack.
It's amazing how much pressure you need to put on your throat to cut off the air. Blood flow goes almost immediately. (I'm assuming it was outgoing blood flow, since the carotid arteries are buried pretty deep, but the jugular veins are right below the surface.)
It was pretty impulsive, seeing as how I've been thinking this over for months to a year now. Seems to come and go. It just came pretty strongly Saturday morning. This voice just kept saying, "Do it! See if you really would! Do it!" So I did. Didn't do much good, I guess.
It did kinda scare me, though. I've never been actively suicidal before. Passively maybe. But actively? I don't know. This is the first attempt I can remember.
I had another breakdown this morning. Just kinda hit me that maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I'm going to get out of life: to be miserable for the rest of my time here. I don't know if I want relief so much as just cessation. Cessation would be nice.
I ran across a site this morning saying I should just run or jog my way to happiness because of all the neato nifty endorphins you get from running. Yeah fucking right.
Ran across another site from a military base talking about burnout in caregivers and people in service industries in the military. It was eye-opening. The major writing the article equated burnout to forms of shell-shockedness. (I forget the term he used.) The symptoms are the same. In some cases, he said, it leads to situational, limited depression. In others major depression sets in (like what I've got.)
The major made a distinction between people with hysterical personalities, who might threaten suicide in order to manipulate people around them to change things, and people with obsessive-compulsive personalities, who are more likely just to quietly go off and get it over with.
Greeeeat. And here I sit with TS and OCD. And I quietly walked out of the room where my family was, and tried to choke myself to death with a towel. I hate to get into the self-analysis game, but that's just too close for coincidence. Greeeeat. I don't know what I feel now. I tried to call the hiring manager this morning for that job I applied for, and he refused my call. He's going to call after lunch. I don't know what to think. The other guy accepted the job last fucking Wednesday. Last Wednesday! Two days he didn't call, then a three day weekend, then no call again and he won't pick up when I do call.
I figured he'd have wanted to go ahead and talk to me and get it the @#$#@$ out of the way. I don't know what's going through his head right now.
Something else that kinda worries me about my "attempt" Saturday morning is the methodology: Up 'till now I've been justifying these feelings with thoughts of an insurance payout for my family. I know if I die of natural causes while I'm still working hre, our house is paid off, both our cars are paid off, our consolidation loan's paid off, AND my family would get two years salary, a total of almost $180,000. They'd have to pay taxes on it, but that would set them up for at least two years. If they sold my stuff, they'd be in good shape.
But none of that happens if it's obviously a suicide attempt. And I'm sorry, nothing about wrapping a towel around your neck tourniquet-style and cranking down on it looks accidental in the least. I jeopardized my one rationalization. It would've left my family stranded, high, and dry. But for some reason I did it anyway.
Which makes me wonder what my motives really are. My guess is I'm just too damn depressed to want to go on. I don't know. I really don't.
It's amazing how much pressure you need to put on your throat to cut off the air. Blood flow goes almost immediately. (I'm assuming it was outgoing blood flow, since the carotid arteries are buried pretty deep, but the jugular veins are right below the surface.)
It was pretty impulsive, seeing as how I've been thinking this over for months to a year now. Seems to come and go. It just came pretty strongly Saturday morning. This voice just kept saying, "Do it! See if you really would! Do it!" So I did. Didn't do much good, I guess.
It did kinda scare me, though. I've never been actively suicidal before. Passively maybe. But actively? I don't know. This is the first attempt I can remember.
I had another breakdown this morning. Just kinda hit me that maybe this is it. Maybe this is all I'm going to get out of life: to be miserable for the rest of my time here. I don't know if I want relief so much as just cessation. Cessation would be nice.
I ran across a site this morning saying I should just run or jog my way to happiness because of all the neato nifty endorphins you get from running. Yeah fucking right.
Ran across another site from a military base talking about burnout in caregivers and people in service industries in the military. It was eye-opening. The major writing the article equated burnout to forms of shell-shockedness. (I forget the term he used.) The symptoms are the same. In some cases, he said, it leads to situational, limited depression. In others major depression sets in (like what I've got.)
The major made a distinction between people with hysterical personalities, who might threaten suicide in order to manipulate people around them to change things, and people with obsessive-compulsive personalities, who are more likely just to quietly go off and get it over with.
Greeeeat. And here I sit with TS and OCD. And I quietly walked out of the room where my family was, and tried to choke myself to death with a towel. I hate to get into the self-analysis game, but that's just too close for coincidence. Greeeeat. I don't know what I feel now. I tried to call the hiring manager this morning for that job I applied for, and he refused my call. He's going to call after lunch. I don't know what to think. The other guy accepted the job last fucking Wednesday. Last Wednesday! Two days he didn't call, then a three day weekend, then no call again and he won't pick up when I do call.
I figured he'd have wanted to go ahead and talk to me and get it the @#$#@$ out of the way. I don't know what's going through his head right now.
Something else that kinda worries me about my "attempt" Saturday morning is the methodology: Up 'till now I've been justifying these feelings with thoughts of an insurance payout for my family. I know if I die of natural causes while I'm still working hre, our house is paid off, both our cars are paid off, our consolidation loan's paid off, AND my family would get two years salary, a total of almost $180,000. They'd have to pay taxes on it, but that would set them up for at least two years. If they sold my stuff, they'd be in good shape.
But none of that happens if it's obviously a suicide attempt. And I'm sorry, nothing about wrapping a towel around your neck tourniquet-style and cranking down on it looks accidental in the least. I jeopardized my one rationalization. It would've left my family stranded, high, and dry. But for some reason I did it anyway.
Which makes me wonder what my motives really are. My guess is I'm just too damn depressed to want to go on. I don't know. I really don't.
posted by pencil at 7:42 PM
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