LOVELYDARKDEEP
will you gnaw off your own leg to escape the trap?
- Mar 20, 2024
- 67
I've struggled with severe, treatment resistant depression since I was very young. I first started researching methods to catch the bus as young as eight or nine years old from growing up in an abusive and neglected environment.
I attempted twice in my early twenties but I flubbed it and got slapped with involuntary psychiatric holds both times and that really fucked me over because I ended up losing my job and caused a lot of financial problems. I didn't attempt again for a while because I was more worried about biffing it again than anything else, and I started feeling a bit better about life once I got a good paying job.
But the depression never really cleared up, and I realized that I had most of the things I dreamed of - mostly financial stability and just enough disposable income to throw at whatever hobby I'm currently interested in. I built a better social life and I have quite a few people that really do love and care about me. I've moved up to a management position and I think it's not too far off base to say that I'm pretty well liked and respected by my coworkers, even if they think I'm a bit eccentric.
And I won't say that doesn't matter because that wouldn't be true, but it's not enough. All the money, medication, and support in the world can't fix my fucked up brain or my deteriorating body.
So last year, I finally gave myself permission to catch the bus. I've actually been having a lot of fun with it; I get excited about planning my funeral in the way brides get excited about planning their wedding day. I stopped worrying about retirement and long term savings and started taking entire months off of work using my medical conditions as an alibi to enjoy my "retirement".
I haven't set a date or anything like that. I'm mostly just waiting for my senior cat to pass away because he's a good boy, very strongly bonded with me, and I don't want him to end up at the humane society and end up getting euthanized because people aren't going to want to adopt a walking veterinary bill.
Ever since I made up my mind last year, I haven't found any motivating factor strong enough to make me want to go back on my decision. Quite the opposite, actually. I've been doing far too much research into political and environmental trends to have any reasonable optimism for the decades ahead. If you think it's a shitshow now, there's certainly no reason to believe it's going to get any better.
I've been keeping a tally since I made up my mind last year. The days where I've marked a preference of death over life outweigh the days where I feel neutral about it by a ratio of over 300:1, with the days where I marked an inclination to life over death in the single digits. Best of luck to anybody that wants to try to claim that suicide is an impulsive decision in light of that!
The decision to start winding down early has absolutely been one of the best life decisions I've ever made. Knowing that the end is in sight has lifted such a burden off my shoulders, even though it's probably still a few years out at this point. I really feel like I've finally started living life to the fullest. My social anxiety has almost completely evaporated, and I've become a lot more authentic in expressing myself. I don't have any patience or tolerance for shitty and toxic people anymore. If anybody comes around to fuck with my pleasant retirement vibes, they're straight out. I definitely feel like I've peaked at this point in my life; can't say I'm really lacking for anything except the will to live - and a sound mind as well as good health, I suppose.
I'm sure I would make for an interesting case study if I was dim enough to share my perspective with psychiatric researchers. I don't doubt my commitment or resolve to follow through with my plans in the slightest. If I have no other reason, it's that death is not a matter of if, but when, and I'd rather chose the time and nature of my passing than letting nature or doctors determine it, because neither of them will have any qualms about letting you die slowly and in agony. I'm not about to dither around and wait until I'm too weak to leave my hospital bed, whenever that day comes. I'm going to die somewhere serene and beautiful if I have any say about it.
So once again, in terms of catching the bus, it's not a matter of if, but when. I'm sure I'm not the only one with a long term plan, and it would be cool to chat with people that have similar ideas, so feel free to introduce yourself.
I attempted twice in my early twenties but I flubbed it and got slapped with involuntary psychiatric holds both times and that really fucked me over because I ended up losing my job and caused a lot of financial problems. I didn't attempt again for a while because I was more worried about biffing it again than anything else, and I started feeling a bit better about life once I got a good paying job.
But the depression never really cleared up, and I realized that I had most of the things I dreamed of - mostly financial stability and just enough disposable income to throw at whatever hobby I'm currently interested in. I built a better social life and I have quite a few people that really do love and care about me. I've moved up to a management position and I think it's not too far off base to say that I'm pretty well liked and respected by my coworkers, even if they think I'm a bit eccentric.
And I won't say that doesn't matter because that wouldn't be true, but it's not enough. All the money, medication, and support in the world can't fix my fucked up brain or my deteriorating body.
So last year, I finally gave myself permission to catch the bus. I've actually been having a lot of fun with it; I get excited about planning my funeral in the way brides get excited about planning their wedding day. I stopped worrying about retirement and long term savings and started taking entire months off of work using my medical conditions as an alibi to enjoy my "retirement".
I haven't set a date or anything like that. I'm mostly just waiting for my senior cat to pass away because he's a good boy, very strongly bonded with me, and I don't want him to end up at the humane society and end up getting euthanized because people aren't going to want to adopt a walking veterinary bill.
Ever since I made up my mind last year, I haven't found any motivating factor strong enough to make me want to go back on my decision. Quite the opposite, actually. I've been doing far too much research into political and environmental trends to have any reasonable optimism for the decades ahead. If you think it's a shitshow now, there's certainly no reason to believe it's going to get any better.
I've been keeping a tally since I made up my mind last year. The days where I've marked a preference of death over life outweigh the days where I feel neutral about it by a ratio of over 300:1, with the days where I marked an inclination to life over death in the single digits. Best of luck to anybody that wants to try to claim that suicide is an impulsive decision in light of that!
The decision to start winding down early has absolutely been one of the best life decisions I've ever made. Knowing that the end is in sight has lifted such a burden off my shoulders, even though it's probably still a few years out at this point. I really feel like I've finally started living life to the fullest. My social anxiety has almost completely evaporated, and I've become a lot more authentic in expressing myself. I don't have any patience or tolerance for shitty and toxic people anymore. If anybody comes around to fuck with my pleasant retirement vibes, they're straight out. I definitely feel like I've peaked at this point in my life; can't say I'm really lacking for anything except the will to live - and a sound mind as well as good health, I suppose.
I'm sure I would make for an interesting case study if I was dim enough to share my perspective with psychiatric researchers. I don't doubt my commitment or resolve to follow through with my plans in the slightest. If I have no other reason, it's that death is not a matter of if, but when, and I'd rather chose the time and nature of my passing than letting nature or doctors determine it, because neither of them will have any qualms about letting you die slowly and in agony. I'm not about to dither around and wait until I'm too weak to leave my hospital bed, whenever that day comes. I'm going to die somewhere serene and beautiful if I have any say about it.
So once again, in terms of catching the bus, it's not a matter of if, but when. I'm sure I'm not the only one with a long term plan, and it would be cool to chat with people that have similar ideas, so feel free to introduce yourself.
