Nobody wants to die. But its hard to go from wanting to die to suddenly being cheered up. If you say, “I want to die” and everyone else says, “oh, cheer up, there’s so much to live for” that’s sometimes a hard thing to hear. It’s not like you’re going to suddenly say, “you know what? You are totally right. I’m cheered up now!”
Try this instead. Just think a little deeper. When you get that feeling ask yourself, “what is it inside of me that really wants to die?”
Do you really want your heart to stop beating? I hardly ever think of the mechanics of my heart. Why would I suddenly want it to stop beating? I don’t even know what side of my chest my heart is on.
So what do you really want to die?
The times when I’ve thought it, what I really wanted (when I think about it in retrospect):
- I wanted death to the horrible feeling that so-and-so didn’t return my affections the way I wanted him or her to (maybe she didn’t call back, was with someone else, didn’t respond to emails, didn’t tell me they loved me, etc)
- I wanted death to the fear that put itself right in my gut that I was going to go broke. A constant fear that has recurred again and again in my life.
- I wanted death to the fear that I was going to lose my house. Or death to the pain I felt upon losing a house. That pain sitting in my head and stomach which buried me underneath so many failures one after the other that I thought I could never climb out of the coffin / grave they buried me in.
- I wanted the death of the utter sorrow I felt when my husband left me.
- I wanted death to the fear the I was going to be put in jail or lose my license (unfounded, but who knew?)
- I wanted the death of the ongoing anticipation of whether or not I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.
- I wanted death to the sadness that I am not going to have kids who I would love.
- I wanted the death of the feeling of inadequacy I felt upon losing or not getting a job again and again and again.
- I wanted the death of the anger I felt towards my parents who had horribly wronged and abused me. Or the obsession in your head when you are dealing with crappy people. I would want the death of that obsession.
And on and on. So many different times I’ve thought it – “I want to die”. Sometimes I meant it, sometimes I didn’t. But when I look back on it, never did I really want my heart to stop beating. I just wanted the death of these various emotions that were hurting me not just emotionally but physically.
I wanted the death of my lack of control over a world that is furious, and chaotic and beautiful and messy.
And all of those things did die eventually. How small they are in the rear view mirror. And a little bit of me died with each one of them.
But I’m still alive.
Try this instead. Just think a little deeper. When you get that feeling ask yourself, “what is it inside of me that really wants to die?”
Do you really want your heart to stop beating? I hardly ever think of the mechanics of my heart. Why would I suddenly want it to stop beating? I don’t even know what side of my chest my heart is on.
So what do you really want to die?
The times when I’ve thought it, what I really wanted (when I think about it in retrospect):
- I wanted death to the horrible feeling that so-and-so didn’t return my affections the way I wanted him or her to (maybe she didn’t call back, was with someone else, didn’t respond to emails, didn’t tell me they loved me, etc)
- I wanted death to the fear that put itself right in my gut that I was going to go broke. A constant fear that has recurred again and again in my life.
- I wanted death to the fear that I was going to lose my house. Or death to the pain I felt upon losing a house. That pain sitting in my head and stomach which buried me underneath so many failures one after the other that I thought I could never climb out of the coffin / grave they buried me in.
- I wanted the death of the utter sorrow I felt when my husband left me.
- I wanted death to the fear the I was going to be put in jail or lose my license (unfounded, but who knew?)
- I wanted the death of the ongoing anticipation of whether or not I was going to be alone for the rest of my life.
- I wanted death to the sadness that I am not going to have kids who I would love.
- I wanted the death of the feeling of inadequacy I felt upon losing or not getting a job again and again and again.
- I wanted the death of the anger I felt towards my parents who had horribly wronged and abused me. Or the obsession in your head when you are dealing with crappy people. I would want the death of that obsession.
And on and on. So many different times I’ve thought it – “I want to die”. Sometimes I meant it, sometimes I didn’t. But when I look back on it, never did I really want my heart to stop beating. I just wanted the death of these various emotions that were hurting me not just emotionally but physically.
I wanted the death of my lack of control over a world that is furious, and chaotic and beautiful and messy.
And all of those things did die eventually. How small they are in the rear view mirror. And a little bit of me died with each one of them.
But I’m still alive.
