If I Were Gone…

When Suicidal Ideation Takes You to Dark Places

Suicidal ideation differs from being actively suicidal in that there are not any active plans to kill yourself.  You are not intending to take your own life, but rather your mind finds itself contemplating how tired you are of living a life that feels hopeless.  You are exhausted, drained and just want to stop hurting.  You find yourself thinking about death in abstract terms, almost as a sweet release and ponder how the world would be without you.

When I am overwhelmed with anxiety and stress and my depression has spiked, my mind will travel to dark, scary, morbid places.  I find myself pondering how everyone’s lives would be better without me.  I dwell on the fact that if I was to give up tomorrow, I don’t even have family that could make arrangements because all I have in my life is my children who are not old enough to take on such a responsibility or burden.  I have no intention of taking my life, yet there are days that these thoughts consume me.

Today, in the depths of my despair, I began to think about what my obituary might read if I were gone.  In my mind, it would read something like this:

Today, we lost Beth W-.  She was 40 years old.  She had a kind and compassionate heart, always trying to reach out to help others even when she was struggling to stay afloat herself.  She had a great love of animals, nature, children’s cartoons, bad movies, good chocolate and life in general.  She was quick to smile, laugh and give out hugs even though she was always crying inside.  Over the course of her lifetime, she filled many roles including fiance, wife, friend, student, teacher, caregiver and author, though there was no role she cherished more than motherhood.

She passed today after losing her battle with a lifelong invisible illness, complicated by the apathy of others.  She bravely battled both her demons  and a system who saw her as a number instead of a person, doubting what they could not see.  Though she fought long and hard to get help, she met roadblocks at too many turns, eventually being consumed by the fiery wreck of her own life.  She truly wanted to live but was not sure how, or whether life itself truly wanted her in it.

She is survived by amazing children with beautiful hearts and sharp minds who deserved so much better than the mother they received.  She is also survived by a handful of friends, some distant because though they cared, she was too overwhelming to be around for long periods of time and some estranged because she pushed them away so they would not see how broken she truly was.  She is also survived by a best friend who had too much on his own plate to see how her life was crumbling beneath her.  She was preceded in death by both of her parents, who passed to her the legacy of dysfunction and abuse.

There will be no services because she has no family to arrange them.  In lieu of flowers or donations, it is requested that parents hold their children tightly to ensure they know they are loved, that friends make a genuine attempt to listen to one another and that society in general begins to openly talk about mental illness and depression because deaths like these are both tragic and needless.  The world would be such a different place if everyone walked it with compassion and empathy.

As I sat here morbidly imagining what I would wish my obituary would say if I were gone tomorrow, I realized there was neither anyone to write it, nor anyone I was sure would care enough to read it.  My passing would likely go largely unnoticed, my death another number added to the statistics of the mentally ill.

Such is the case with so many people struggling with mental illness today.  We are struggling, stumbling, floundering through life.  We are trying so desperately to live and not give up hope yet we feel all alone in the world.  All too often, we find ourselves drowning in depression, just wanting the pain to end.  Whether or not our situation is truly hopeless, all we can feel inside is despair.

More often than not, even when we reach out for help or assistance, we’re met by roadblocks and red tape.  There are so many hoops to jump through, unknown roads to navigate on our own that it quickly becomes overwhelming, complicated and unbearable.  We are met with doubt and suspicion along the way as if we are fabricating our struggles or looking for attention.  We are treated coldly, without compassion or care, like we are numbers and not people.  We are made to feel like we are inconsequential and somehow less than human by the same groups and agencies we have turned to for help.

We watch as one by one friends and family distance themselves from our “drama” but we don’t fight it because we already feel like a burden.  We begin pushing away those who are left because we come to believe it is only a matter of time before they would leave us, as well, and it seems easier to cut the ties ourselves.  We feel completely alone.  On some level, we feel we deserve it because we are such a mess.  We honestly believe that everyone would be better off without us in their lives.

Meanwhile, we’re drowning.  We’re drowning in hopelessness, helplessness, depression and despair.  We’re struggling harder and harder to find reasons to pull ourselves out of bed, reasons to keep living.  It’s not so much that we want to die that we are just so very tired of living this way.  We already feel dead inside.  Our minds take us to dark places, dwelling on morbid situations that we know are unhealthy yet give us a strange sense of peace.

Deep down, I know I would be missed, at least by my children and by the few friends who have stood by me through my struggles.  It is a fact I cling to on my hardest days, when I feel like I am spiraling down into that hopeless abyss.  No matter how hard I try to fight it, that darkness sometimes seeps into my consciousness and beckons me.  Though I am not actively planning to take my own life, there are days I cannot help but ponder what it would be like if I were gone.

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