The Allure of Freedom, is Often Tempting
Today I had the same thoughts I did when I was twelve. I've gotten past the ten year mark, but it doesn't mean I've forgotten or haven't thought about it since. It wasn't a stupid young thought at that age, though it might be now.
I'm refusing to leave my room and go downstairs because I'm sure I'll do something that I'll regret, no matter how logical it may seem at the time. I'm stopping, mostly, because I know it's not a smart move, and partly, because of promises. Too many, made to too many different people, some of whom, I don't think really care, some of whom I'm sure have forgotten, and some of whom I don't think ever understood what it means. Right now, all those promises, aren't holding me back, logic is, which in the long run is probably better.
For those, who don't know, and have yet to clue in. . . twelve was the age, or around the age where I brought a knife in my room to slit my wrists. Suicidal at twelve, and though depression has always been in my life and suicidal thoughts have never left my mind, I haven't had serious thoughts about it since that age. Now, they're here again- probably a good thing I'm going to see my counselor tomorrow.
I've never been scared of dying, probably because of the one advantage that dying has that the living does not- Freedom. You're free from any obligations, feelings, pain, happiness yes, but, for a constant state of neutrality, I'd give my life for that. Course, I'm also the one that's willing to give their life for a complete stranger because I don't believe that my life should mean more than theirs.
I think, a large part of it has to do with the fact that, life, is lived. I've lived, in the metaphorical sense of the word, in the literal sense too, but... it's in the symbolic sense that I haven't. I mean, I'm living, and I've traveled, I've gone through a lot of emotional experiences- heartbreak, love, I've experienced a loved one dying, I've gone through more than enough painful family experiences, the only thing I've yet to do is get married and have kids. The children part though, I've been mature enough to take care of my brother most of my life, coach a dancing group and be their big sister in a foreign country, so all in all, yeah I've taken care of kids and their problems.
I've lived in the sense that I've gone through most of the things in life that one goes through, and some things that few will ever experience.
Where the problem lies, and where I think the root of my problem lies in the fact that, well, I've lived for others. Everything I've done has been for the happiness of others. I listened to the problems of others as a kid and didn't talk about my own, and yeah I was depressed because of that, so I've tried to open up more, and now that I have, I've been hurt the worst by the people I confided in. Yes, there are those that have been there for me, and I've been grateful for those people who've been there along the way, and they know who they are. There are also the people who help me and their help is unexpected, and for that I'm grateful as well, but honestly, I don't know what I want.
I've always been helping others, and that's fine, and great, and I love helping others, but, it's not what I want- in the sense that, I'm happy and I want to help them, but by helping them, it's not necessarily what I want to do. This in turn has caused me to be strong for others, incredibly strong for others, but, also, incredibly weak for myself. I would push myself to my limits and beyond for someone else, no worries, no question, but I can't do it for myself.
A large part is that, I don't know how. I mean, I can take care of myself physically, but emotionally, I've always kept most of my feelings to myself, so this whole opening up, and dealing with problems on my own, and for myself, is foreign, confusing, and a place I'm not use to being in.
It's just that I don't know what I want in life. That's the largest part of the whole suicide thing for me. People say that there is a meaning to life, or a purpose, whatever, and right now, I don't have that. So, what's the point in living, if you have nothing to live for?
Yes I have people I could live for, but I've been doing that my whole life, and I'm at a point where that's not healthy, and I know it isn't. I just don't know what it is that I want and what I have to live for, I can't find something to live for, as sad as that sounds.
I mean, to live for happiness that isn't certain, a happiness that I can't find, that I don't even know what it is? Live to work, travel, get hurt, have moments good and bad, that's, not enough for me. That's too vague, too broad. I NEED something to live for, something for myself to live for. I don't know what that is, and if I can't find something, then what's the point?
Like, why am I here now? To get grades enough to pass classes, graduate, get a recommendation to a profession I don't even know I want to go into, to work, to get money to pay off bills and debt, and live, so that in the end I can die?
Sorry, but why the hell would I go through all of that? If there was a reason, a reason I believed in, a point to it all, it'd be easier, I might be able to get stronger, but, I'm not there yet, and I don't know how to get there.
Now, if I've freaked you out, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt myself, or kill myself. Not yet. Not because it's not fair to those around me- again, I said life is for the person living it, not for others- but because I haven't given this a fair enough chance. I know the problem, I know I have to fix it, and once I find something to live for, if that doesn't work, well then, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
You see, I've never been happy. I've had happy moments, mostly the result of other people, but, before I can be happy with someone else, I need to know that I can be happy on my own. I should be happy with my life, and yet I'm not. I NEED a reason to be happy with my life, I NEED something to live for, and until I find that, I won't be happy.
The thoughts will continue, fine. I won't do anything about them, trust me. At least, I won't until I've given life a fair chance.
I'm refusing to leave my room and go downstairs because I'm sure I'll do something that I'll regret, no matter how logical it may seem at the time. I'm stopping, mostly, because I know it's not a smart move, and partly, because of promises. Too many, made to too many different people, some of whom, I don't think really care, some of whom I'm sure have forgotten, and some of whom I don't think ever understood what it means. Right now, all those promises, aren't holding me back, logic is, which in the long run is probably better.
For those, who don't know, and have yet to clue in. . . twelve was the age, or around the age where I brought a knife in my room to slit my wrists. Suicidal at twelve, and though depression has always been in my life and suicidal thoughts have never left my mind, I haven't had serious thoughts about it since that age. Now, they're here again- probably a good thing I'm going to see my counselor tomorrow.
I've never been scared of dying, probably because of the one advantage that dying has that the living does not- Freedom. You're free from any obligations, feelings, pain, happiness yes, but, for a constant state of neutrality, I'd give my life for that. Course, I'm also the one that's willing to give their life for a complete stranger because I don't believe that my life should mean more than theirs.
I think, a large part of it has to do with the fact that, life, is lived. I've lived, in the metaphorical sense of the word, in the literal sense too, but... it's in the symbolic sense that I haven't. I mean, I'm living, and I've traveled, I've gone through a lot of emotional experiences- heartbreak, love, I've experienced a loved one dying, I've gone through more than enough painful family experiences, the only thing I've yet to do is get married and have kids. The children part though, I've been mature enough to take care of my brother most of my life, coach a dancing group and be their big sister in a foreign country, so all in all, yeah I've taken care of kids and their problems.
I've lived in the sense that I've gone through most of the things in life that one goes through, and some things that few will ever experience.
Where the problem lies, and where I think the root of my problem lies in the fact that, well, I've lived for others. Everything I've done has been for the happiness of others. I listened to the problems of others as a kid and didn't talk about my own, and yeah I was depressed because of that, so I've tried to open up more, and now that I have, I've been hurt the worst by the people I confided in. Yes, there are those that have been there for me, and I've been grateful for those people who've been there along the way, and they know who they are. There are also the people who help me and their help is unexpected, and for that I'm grateful as well, but honestly, I don't know what I want.
I've always been helping others, and that's fine, and great, and I love helping others, but, it's not what I want- in the sense that, I'm happy and I want to help them, but by helping them, it's not necessarily what I want to do. This in turn has caused me to be strong for others, incredibly strong for others, but, also, incredibly weak for myself. I would push myself to my limits and beyond for someone else, no worries, no question, but I can't do it for myself.
A large part is that, I don't know how. I mean, I can take care of myself physically, but emotionally, I've always kept most of my feelings to myself, so this whole opening up, and dealing with problems on my own, and for myself, is foreign, confusing, and a place I'm not use to being in.
It's just that I don't know what I want in life. That's the largest part of the whole suicide thing for me. People say that there is a meaning to life, or a purpose, whatever, and right now, I don't have that. So, what's the point in living, if you have nothing to live for?
Yes I have people I could live for, but I've been doing that my whole life, and I'm at a point where that's not healthy, and I know it isn't. I just don't know what it is that I want and what I have to live for, I can't find something to live for, as sad as that sounds.
I mean, to live for happiness that isn't certain, a happiness that I can't find, that I don't even know what it is? Live to work, travel, get hurt, have moments good and bad, that's, not enough for me. That's too vague, too broad. I NEED something to live for, something for myself to live for. I don't know what that is, and if I can't find something, then what's the point?
Like, why am I here now? To get grades enough to pass classes, graduate, get a recommendation to a profession I don't even know I want to go into, to work, to get money to pay off bills and debt, and live, so that in the end I can die?
Sorry, but why the hell would I go through all of that? If there was a reason, a reason I believed in, a point to it all, it'd be easier, I might be able to get stronger, but, I'm not there yet, and I don't know how to get there.
Now, if I've freaked you out, I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt myself, or kill myself. Not yet. Not because it's not fair to those around me- again, I said life is for the person living it, not for others- but because I haven't given this a fair enough chance. I know the problem, I know I have to fix it, and once I find something to live for, if that doesn't work, well then, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.
You see, I've never been happy. I've had happy moments, mostly the result of other people, but, before I can be happy with someone else, I need to know that I can be happy on my own. I should be happy with my life, and yet I'm not. I NEED a reason to be happy with my life, I NEED something to live for, and until I find that, I won't be happy.
The thoughts will continue, fine. I won't do anything about them, trust me. At least, I won't until I've given life a fair chance.