Share:
- Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
- Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
- Click to print (Opens in new window)
- Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)
Been there. Comtemplated stepping in front of a truck a few times a while back. I think the only thing that stopped me was knowing that my little brother would be alone without me. And that fear of having him feel what I felt was the only thing that stopped me, multiple times..
It is my son that keeps me here. I want to die everyday, but leaving him that legacy and knowing that he’d never fully understand makes it so that my fantasies of suicide will never come to fruition. I am very very tired.
My son is what keeps me from ‘leaving’ as well. At least, for now.
The only thing that has so far stopped me from stepping in front of a train is thoughts of what it could potentially do to the train driver who probably has a crappy enough job anyway and never signed up to kill anyone in a day’s work, and the people stuck on the train. There are enough frustrating public transport delays without me adding to the problem.
It is kind of terrifying to realise that you don’t really care if you make it to the other side. But only kinda.
I have a friend that did exactly that. I still have the small news article in a folder.
“A 23 year old woman has been hit by a train…” So impersonal.
I never contemplated suicide before that. I had a horrible life filled with abuse, I was depressed, but I had other ways of coping. Think about it before you do it, people… it’s contagious. It really is. Now, when I have big lows I always remember that my boyfriend would probably become suicidal if I did it. Maybe my sister too. Maybe my already vulnerable friend. My nephews.
I don’t think about the grief that the stable and not-so-sensitive people around me would feel. They would get over it. I think about the example it sets for the vulnerable people I love. I remember the feeling of wanting to do anything to “go see her”, and the nightmares I had where I just wanted to speak to her but she vanished, that lasted for years. I have friends that died for other reasons, and never did it come close to the intensity of that feeling. Ending our own lives sets an example and encourages other people in doing it. And personally, it makes me feel proud of myself in a way to take this responsibility seriously (not ending my life). It took me a couple of years but now, instead of guilt I see it as a gesture of love towards those who rely on me in a way or another. For me, it helps break the negative cycle of despair/social pressure to see it that way.
I recently saw a delivery truck speeding down a hill near my house and thought “I could use that”, mentally filed away for some future possibility even though I also hope it will never be needed.
it takes one hit by a great amount of physical power to end it all ……. why am i living where there are no trains? ….. damn it
I walk to work everyday and every now and then i think “just one step that’s all it would take”
I’m always looking at the trucks front grille with hope when they come towards me. “Come on, please be distracted, veer off and pancake me”.
And when they pass me by I look at them go with disapointment.
When I drive for work and I’m alone with my thoughts, I usually speee up just a little and think, “One swift jerk into the oncoming lane is all I need.”
speed*