Whenever I think about killing myself, which is generally about once I month, I usually picture hanging. I don’t know why. I know exactly where I would place the rope, so it would cut off my air but not hurt as much on my voice box. I read somewhere that your last moments of asphyxia are euphoric, because of the build up of carbon dioxide in your brain.
Once a month or so, depending on my stress, the thoughts come into my head for an evening, taking up space like unwanted house guests. They chatter on, and the best I’ve learned to do is drown them out with movies or books. Tonight, I’m watching Looper, which I have to say is decent enough and the acting keeps my focus. 8/10 stars.
You’re probably right, I could take meds…. but eventually, you come off of them. I can, and will, go to therapy, but I can’t afford that, yet. So, I tolerate my rude guests, walking around, telling me what I loser I am, how I’ve let my kids down, just by existing. I nod my head and shuffle around my kitchen, waiting for them to leave. It would be a lie to say that it doesn’t entirely effect me, but the thought of anything happening to me and my ex getting the kids is motivation to keep it together like you wouldn’t fucking believe!
So, here we go, kids. Ignore the house guests until they take the hint and leave. Putter around and straighten up. Pretend that you don’t imagine a rope around your neck, not because you’re too weak to do it, but because you have to be strong enough to take all the hate that you have, even for yourself, and keep pushing forward. You stay in control, no matter what.
Stay in control. They’ll leave. Eventually.