I want to die sometimes…

You know the drill – if you’re staying away from suicidal ideation this is your warning:

I want to die sometimes.  It happens quite suddenly, the desire towards death.  But I’m not sure if I want to die or I don’t know/believe I can find a way to live.

When the death drive comes over me it’s like a veil- at least when it comes over me as a mood.  I feel the weight of loss, of wasting away in front of myself.

Someone once told me that depression was anger turned inwards.  For women this tends to manifest in docile vacant depression, while for men it is more likely to present as violent outward fits.  I get that because earlier today and many days, I feel so frustrated I want to tear my hair out.

I have no outlet really.  My family get upset when I act strangely.  It’s not strange to me.  I think of my dashed hopes, my feelings of impotence, that nothing I do matters, that I have no control whatsoever.  No life.  No stimulation mental or physical or emotional.  That weight of pretending I’m not a seething mass of resentment, it boils over.

Instead of throwing a glass at a wall, watching it smash, I have to see it in my head.  I cannot scream or throw things or tear up the sheets as I feel the urge to do.  So I claw at my stomach, trying to free myself.  I curl in bed, I thrash around, I dig my nails into my skin to try to distract or release the thundering rage that I have to feel like this, purgatory that is like running the time down on a clock.

Tonight I took five old-school drowsy anti-depressants, trying to douse down the agitation.

The thing is, I decided a good while ago that I was going to allow myself to die.  I gave myself a number, an age.  I don’t want to live like this.  I haven’t seen any improvement in talking therapies, visiting the G.P. is, in my mind, some sort of black joke.

The thing that worries me most is the small enclave of people who would be hit by my death.  To this end I’ve long thought, in a vague sense that I have to do it in a way that minimizes the impact such that I can.

I need this worked out now, not when I’m in some major depressive episode.

My concern is that my body must not be found in a room by my family.  Ideally I would like to be considered missing- no body.

I also believe that a year must pass with me far away from here before I take my life.  This is to avoid the horror of seeing someone everyday and then saying ‘I had a cup of tea with her yesterday…’ etc.

I’m conflicted, I don’t know where I would go or how to do this thing.  I don’t want to fuck it up.  If there was a way for me to live with acceptable levels of distress I would.  If between now and my death date life changes I will adjust my plans.  But I do need these plans and I have vague ideas but I frankly don’t know how to do this, how to disappear for a while, where to go, what to do for money (like I said I am not going to die in this house having had recent contact with family.

A week ago my sister asked me what was wrong.  I said I am not me, I cannot do this forever, this isn’t working.  She told me to give it another go, try again to be happy, what could I lose?

I said I could allow myself to get my hopes up, think I could have more, and then fall flat again.  That is worse to me than my  resigned decision.  I think she used the phrase ‘fire in your belly’ as in, GET SOME, and she cried and I was not immediately affected.  I observed the frustrated tears, but couldn’t engage.

Since then I have engaged, I’ve cried on my own, crying for her, for the pain she will have and the pain that I will have.  I’ve said I won’t talk about it anymore; it just upsets her.  I wanted to prepare people.  I don’t know how to do it.

As for methods, that’s not hard is it.  If I mention euthanizing drugs used today, which I won’t by name, but that is the obvious choice.

I wish this moving away plan was more evolved – that’s the thing I don’t know how to do.  Even if I didn’t act on it, I think I need a strategy anyway; the last thing I want is a sudden depressed mood that drives me to kill myself in a sloppy, desperate way.

It’s not great – like making a will I suppose – but I want to know I have this tiny piece of mind.