Always wanting to die

 I think I've got to the point where I'm going to be successful.  Although we all call life fragile, actually dying is tricky.  Men tend to use violent endings: trains, cars, cliffs.  For women, it's a little different.  I don't know if it's because we think it through, but I'd like to have a peaceful ending: drifting off into unconsciousness - like falling asleep, and just before, a little message just so my body is found fairly quickly before decomposition.  It's always the hardest on our loved ones, of course, and it's an awful process of weighing how much emotional torture you can take in order to protect those around you.  It's tricky, when I'm well I try my hardest to make those emotional connections, to give me some feeling of security.  But my life is a constant slide of emotions, an inability to trust in myself and others, and fear.  I worry about upsetting people, I worry they will suddenly change and I'll be poured into a different set of relationships with rules I cannot begin to understand.

And it's not only interpersonal relationships that have this deep and unsettling fluidity, societal changes are equally disturbing, especially as a minority group and being target #1 for the mainstream press at the moment.  Because of this, suicidality is something that is always there.  It's an escape.  It's a lifeline.  Sometimes it's acute: an abrupt overwhelming urge to throw myself off a railing, or into the path of a bus.  These abrupt manifestations are usually as a result of an acute stressor, and they're characterised by a feeling of incongruence to how I was feeling before.  I recognise them as "abnormal".  And so I've learned to contain them.  To watch my thoughts.... and to let go of them - not to act, or worse, semi-act on them.  And then there are the insidious thoughts - saving medication "just in case": things which seem reasonable but will actually serve a dual purpose, they will serve as an escape if needs be, as well as medication security.  And it's these insidious actions that brought me to where I am today.  I had a date, a time, a day.  Everything was perfect.

But then like always, I doubted myself.  Am I just ill?  Am I depressed?  In my suicidal state, I asked my mental health team if I was just being mental.  Being unable to judge up from down, I always need and rely on other people's perspectives on what is going on for me.  They were great, in that we had a nice chat and talked about other options, and didn't do much more that evening: my other half somehow got wind of my plans and stayed with me, and I found it was quite a relief to be honest with people about what was going on for me.

But now I'm kind of stuck.  I have the same pressures with no relief, my mental health team said I should go off sick from work and I'm still left holding my terror.