The Truth About Wanting to Die

Well, the truth as I know it. If you're looking for something hopeful, look away... I doubt this will be that kind of post. I was doing better, you know. I really was. I was starting to engage in life again. I tried a new tea today. Started planning what the next few years might look like. I even sat down to write a draft of my story for a project a friend of mine has invited me to write for. It was good. It really was. It just meant I had to think about things I can't think about if I'm going to maintain the pretense that I'm fine.

I was going to skip this step, you know. Get straight to the whole "things are starting to look up" stage, but today has reminded me that doing that would be very, very dishonest. And I promised I would always be honest. Besides, maybe it'll help. Help me feel less alone. Help you feel less alone if you ever feel the way I sometimes do.

But please, please, please, tread carefully. This isn't going to be pretty. And if you feel it bringing things up for you, please, please, please speak to someone. If you don't know who to speak to, I'd recommend calling Lifeline. The number is 13 11 14. Everyone is trained to listen to you, to support you where you are at.

I really didn't. But less than half an hour ago, I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed, razor pressed against my wrist. The battle was raging inside of me - cut or don't cut. I didn't. I wish I could say it was for noble reasons. I can't. I was just being cowardly. So far, I've managed to avoid breaking skin. But there have been evenings when I've had scratches half way up my forearm.

I never thought I'd self harm. But I have been. And I've been wanting to do worse.

I was going to put in a slightly prettier, more poetic way of saying this (note, I didn't write either), but it wouldn't have been honest. And, again, the spirit of total honesty. It kind of sucks.

But yeah... this basically what it's been like for me. I was thirteen the first time I articulated this to myself. It was only last year that I accepted that this is also feeling suicidal... it's a passive kind of suicidality. The kind that just gives up on oneself. My psychologist said that when I described it to her. "You've given up on yourself". In many ways, I have.

Sometimes, the only thing stopping me from stepping out in front of a speeding car is the thought of how it would screw up the driver's life.

My psych, she asked me about it. Asked what lies under it. I whispered "I feel worthless". Then, louder, "but that doesn't make sense."

She smiled at me. A little sadly. "No one wants to die if they think they are of worth."

I guess she's right. Certainly,  my reasons for staying alive aren't because I value myself.  They are because I know it would hurt my family and my friends too much. And because I still believe God will make something good out of this mess. But that is so, so, so hard to hold onto.

And, at the end of the day, maybe it doesn't matter that I've never broken skin and haven't actively tried to kill myself. After all, I've mentally killed myself a thousand times. My first step when I make a mistake is to start berating myself as a failure, a worthless piece of filthy, rotten manure. It's surprised me to realise, in recent times, how much I hate myself.

Not my appearance. I've reached a point where I've accepted that I am passably pretty. But is that vaniety when I know that I hate who I am far more intensely than I could ever like the way I look?

And sure, there are times when I like who I am... but it's so fleeting, so fragile... every small gain in self acceptance is so easily lost. And I've heard people say that we need to stop worrying about self esteem so much - what matters is what God thinks of us. But let me tell you right now: what God thinks of me is the only reason I am alive. And self esteem may not matter when you're confident and secure, but when you've got none, when you only mildly approve of yourself on a good day, it matters. It matters because your view of yourself colours how you think everyone views you. Even God. I'm only going because my head keeps telling me "but God loves you". My heart doesn't quite believe it.

And you know what the worst of it is? That comment there is so true. So, so often, I can't articulate it. Or it isn't acceptable to share it. Or I just have no energy to deal with anything. So I just sort of half smile and say I'm tired. And everyone nods and says they understand and starts giving me advice about sleep and food and pretty much no one ever asks "what kind of tired is that?".

Everyone's an expert and no one asks, because "tired" can be categorised and packed away, but who knows how to respond to "I want to die".

And that leaves me alone. Alone with my hurt, my pain, my hatred. And that's the worst of it.

And yeah, I'm writing this now because I can't do it any more. I can't keep pretending I'm fine when "fine" is an act I've practiced so long and hard that sometimes even I can't tell where the reality ends and the act begins. I'm doing this now because as much as I want to die, I want to live. Not just survive, but live. Really live. And enjoy it. I want to be able to feel grateful and to praise God. I don't want my life to be a lament. But it is. And I just can't. I can't do it anymore.

And so, I promise you, I will go out tonight. I'll give a friend a hug. I'll tell someone I'm struggling today. I'll be back in a couple of days with another post. And I'll keep doing one of the hardest things God has ever asked me to do: Live.

Love,

Laura Dee

xox

Highlights and Reflections: Solomon's Perjury

Hello my friends!

Come in, grab a cuppa. I myself have a mug of "Tummy Tea" - a peppermint and liquorice tea from T2 - and a brownie made for me by a wonderful housemate.

This one will be lighter than my last post (hopefully). I have decided to alternate between the heavy heart-sharing and the lighter discussions about books/shows/music/whatever strikes my fancy. Which, if nothing else, should help me maintain some semblance of balance.

So, this paragraph was initially about how I was going to do highlights from both February and March in one post. Than I spent several paragraphs sharing about one show and what it meant to me. So I decided it would probably be better to dedicate entire posts to the books, shows and music that touch me, rather than only a small portion of one. So, here it is: What Solomon's Perjury means to me.

Solomon's Perjury is a 12 episode Korean drama that aired over six weeks in December and January. I went into it expecting an interesting show, and proceeded to fall in love with it.

The show was centred around one particular high school, and even more specifically, on a group of seniors. These seniors have their lives completely shaken up when one of them discovers the body of a classmate lying in the snow on school grounds the day after Christmas. After a brief investigation, the death is ruled as a suicide, and everyone is in a rush to get things back to normal as quickly as possible. They may have succeeded, except that an anonymous letter turns up, claiming that the death was not suicide, but homicide. Furthermore, the writer claims to have witnessed three other classmates pushing the dead boy off the roof of the school building. Chaos ensues, accusations are hurled, and the school rushes to mitigate the damage. Frustrated at the unwillingness of the adults involved to provide any genuine answers, 7 of the students decide to take matters into their own hands. They stage a school trial, determined to get to the bottom of it all.

Now, in my opinion, this show had many things going for it. I fell in love with the characters. The heroine's mother has joined my list of "Best TV Mums". I admire the spunk of the high schoolers, and was delighted that neither they nor the adults were belittled in order to show the other group in a good light. But what really sold it for me, what made it a show I will come back to time and again, was the questions it asked and the topics it explored.

I won't lie. This show got dark. Really dark. It dealt with issues of suicide, abuse (I include high school bullying in here), corruption, parenting, and friendship. The show started off making us ask "how did SoWoo die?". We were then made to ask "why did he die?". And then, finally, we realised that the show had been asking us a very important question all along. It is a question that I think many of us ask ourselves time and time again:

Why should I live?

When life sucks, what reason do I have to keep going? What, in all this horrible, messy world, is worth living for? When circumstance, loved ones, life have beaten us back, have beaten us down, have left us bloody, and bruised, why should I get back up? What point is there in life if all I am doing is putting one foot in front of the other? Can life ever get better?

As you may be able to tell, especially if you've been following along with me, these are questions that deeply resonate with me. Why should I live? When all I can see is pain and confusion and no answers, why should I keep going? Keep hoping?

And the answer, or at least the part of it that the show explored, has come back to me a number times over the last few months, especially in those moments when, quite frankly, I have wanted to die. (Side note: yes, I have support. Yes, I am talking about this. Yes, I am seeing a psychologist. Yes, I will go to hospital if I decide it is no longer safe for me outside of it.)

It's not a new answer, but something about the way the show communicated it really touched my heart and soul. And has sent this show onto the list of shows to watch when I need a reminder that everything will be OK.

It's not faith based, but it's real, and it's hopeful. And sometimes, that's all one needs. It reminds us that sometimes things will change, sometimes they won't. Whatever happens, you will always have to live with the after affects, be they good or bad. But you can only know what will happen, how life will unfold, if you stick around to see it.

And for me, it is a reminder that a Master Artist is at work in all of life. That, however crushing things get, there us One who is working it all out, calling on me to "look among the nations! Observe! Be astonished! Wonder! I am doing something in your days - You would not believe if you were told" (Habakkuk 1:5, NASB).

And so (spoiler alert), I will leave you with this ending monologue:

You were wrong. You left the world with the wrong answer. You turned off a beautiful piece of music after only listening to the prelude. You passed by a lovely flowering tree in the midst of rain. Your life, which you always thought was full of darkness, was a room where the lights had not yet been turned on. It could have changed. It could have been better. So you were wrong. I wanted to tell you this.
Now... spring is coming. I lost my mother in winter. I lost my father in winter. I lost you in winter. Still, spring is coming in my life. The snow is melting, and new shoots are coming up. The day is bright and clear, and the breeze is fine. So I don't mean to get tired of it, even if life is only like this.

Love,
Laura Dee