"Those Thoughts ARE What's Wrong"

I posted a link to my last blog entry on a self harm awareness type page that I frequent. I wanted to share it there because more often than not folks respond to posts (especially if they know you) and I was feeling like I needed to hear something about what I wrote.

I got a PM from a guy thanking me for my honesty on what is a rater controversial topic (a PM that I greatly appreciated). And I heard from a few other friends offering general support and maybe some advice. One response stopped me in my tracks and plunged me into something like two minutes of deep thought (lol). My friend (we joke that we are 'Across the pond drinking buddies' as we (obviously) live on different contents and at one point were bothering drinking probably more than we should) said something about the thoughts (suidical ideation) hopefully fading in time to which I was forced to confess... I am not sure I want them to fade.

My first therapist asked me several times to call crisis line if I had any suicidal thoughts especially if I thought I might act on them. My response was always something like 'Why would I call when nothing is wrong? If I haven't done anything yet nothing is wrong so what is the point?' Finally he replied "Those thoughts are what's wrong".

I agree with him. If someone else were saying the same things to me that I have said in therapy in the past I would respond in the same way. My reasons for not wanting to call before can all pretty much be taken back to pride. I am mortified at the mere thought of having to deal with what would follow such a phone call.

This brings us to another problem which ties nicely in with the beginning of this blog. If I really wanted to kill myself it would make no sense to call someone who could then go about stopping me (or at least attempting to). Now these thoughts, this 'problem', are not as prevalent as they have been in the past. And sometimes I find myself wishing I were back in that place. I find myself thinking that if I just stopped taking my meds that perhaps, perhaps I could reach that place again, that dark, smothering place, where I could take my own life and thus put an end to 'it all' (whatever 'it all' is).

I'm medicated. And in some ways things are better. But only just. Not enough to give meaning to my life. Not enough to cause me to want to stick around any longer. Mostly what has gone is some of my will to kill myself. I cannot do it. But that has not stopped me from longing to quiet this earth forever... Mostly it has just taken away my ability to bring it about myself.