I’m writing from my bedroom, the only place in the house that doesn’t give me anxiety. But it’s a tradeoff, because this is absolutely an incubation space for depression. The same view, the same mess, the same routine. It is mind-numbingly boring. But that’s not the main event. It’s just opened up space in my brain to do some reflection (knowing well that it’s often a bad idea to reflect on why everything is meaningless).
It’s no secret that I’ve attempted suicide, at lest if you’ve ever read this blog…or followed me on social media…or have spoken to me in the past ~4 years. But as much as I’ve overshared, I’ve never felt all that comfortable with details of it all- the lead up, the decision, the action, the regret, the ambulances, the LAPD putting me in handcuffs to escort me to the ER, the shit that goes on in the hospital.
Which brings me to now. We’re almost a month into all of this, and it means plenty of ill- advised thinking time. In the past 4 years, I have given myself three deep cuts that needed to be stitched up, so I have these 1″ centipede scars in a place that you can’t really hide. I have no choice but to wear the physical proof that I actively tried to escort myself off of this planet.
Cut to: now. I’m worried about this pandemic. I’m mostly worried for family, friends, and Betty White, but I’ve also carved out enough space in my brain to worry about myself, too. But why would I do that if just months ago I was actively trying to die? And wouldn’t this be just the perfect excuse to do just that? “Oh, she got the virus. It was out of her control”. Or it could go the other way: “well, she did say she wanted to die…this is probably a dream come true.” It’s not. The thing is, the whole wanting to die business is really just the best and easiest option when I can’t escape my own thoughts, when I can’t fathom a world where things feel right. I don’t want to die, I want to be happy. But when that doesn’t feel like an option, just escaping all of it seems like the only way to stop this constant feeling of failure as a human,