Have you ever had suicidal thoughts? Would your note have been different?
Authors Note: I had initially published this anonymously. However, I’ve had second thoughts. We can only realize we aren’t alone when we have the courage to come forth. My apologies if the anonymity confused or misled anyone.
I’ve thought a great deal about suicide. Not too many days go by that don’t include a few thoughts of killing myself. That is the sad reality that me and people like me face. We don’t wake up in the morning and look for reasons to end our lives. We wake up and search for reasons to keep going. Most days we manage, but some require a herculean effort. Occasionally, we find ourselves standing at the precipice with naught but inches between us and a final resting peace.
I came close to ending this game of life. Closer than most realize and perhaps more than I care to admit. If I had, there wouldn’t have been a note. I didn’t think I needed one. I couldn’t say the things I needed to in life. I didn’t see a way to say them in death either. With a somewhat clearer mind and a nagging feeling that it needs to be seen, this is what it may have looked like.
Above all else, please understand this isn’t your fault. There is no culpability to keep or share. It simply is. As in all things there must be balance, to have life is to also have death. Don’t blame yourselves or each other, because that’s the last thing I want. There is no blame to be had here, no fault to spread and no guilt to senselessly carry.
I have peace. Finally I have peace. My hope is that my absence allows you to move on, to find the happiness I kept you from. I know the burden I have been, the drag I have created on your lives. I hope that losing me propels you forward and drives your lives to new heights. Like an anchor to a ship, I’ve done nothing but hold you back. I will no longer be there to do so.Don’t like ads? Become a supporter and enjoy The Good Men Project ad free
I hope you don’t see this as selfish. Expecting me to battle on, day after exhausting day simply to occupy space is selfish. I cannot continue to endure the war inside my head any longer. I’ve tried to bury it, to hide it and even to ignore it. Somehow, some way the voice just continues on. I am worthless. I am beaten. I am a failure. I will never be worthy of the life you all so richly deserve. This is an act of mercy.
I don’t want any of you to mourn me. I am finally free. I am free of the invader in my head, masking itself as myself. I am free of the weight of expectations never met and persistent disappointment. I am free of a life so tortuously crafted that I find only misery where happiness and satisfaction should reign.
You too are free. Free to remarry, to move on, to live without the debilitating weight of my life pulling you down. You are free to start over, to find someone worthy of the love you all provide.
I’m not so far down the rabbit hole that I believe nobody will miss me. I know you might. I know it may hurt for a little while. I’m sorry. I’m fighting a battle I don’t think I can win. This is the only way out I know will work. I love you all.
For now, I’m still here. This letter wasn’t left for my family to find. They didn’t have to go searching for my carcass, left for the elements far from home. I still battle on, day after exhausting day. Some are better. Some are truly bad. For now though, I am able to keep the thoughts where they belong: as thoughts. I hope that someday I may be free of them, that I’ll wake each morning with a fresh outlook on life. The reality is less promising. Sometimes we don’t win. Sometimes the Black Dog finally makes his lunge for your neck and you just close your eyes and wait for the darkness to overtake you.
If you or someone you know is in crisis, call 1-800-273-TALK (8255) now. Don’t wait.
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