Inside the skull

Caution: Talks about suicide.

I think I need to explain this one. I’m chronically suicidal. There’s a couple of different sensations;

Type 1 -The “lentils, turmeric, lemon juice, kill myself, chick peas, coriander” feeling. Like as if killing myself is just another option on the things I plan on doing during the day. Usually able to ignore it, or at least transmute it into self harm or complete inactivity.

Type 2 -The champagne glass feeling; It feels like walking down a flight of steep stairs, in a hobble skirt, carrying a tray of champagne glasses. It’s not that I want to fall over and smash all the glasses, it’s that I can’t stop thinking about falling over and smashing all the glasses because it feels likely. It’s not that I want to kill myself, it’s that I can’t stop thinking about it because it feels likely.

Type 3 -The actively wanting to die feeling; Whatever precipitates it, the feeling of just wanting to die. Usually just wanting to not exist, really.

Type 4 – The time to go feeling; The feeling of being in so much pain, whether physical or mental, that I should probably kill myself.

Planning is kind of irrelevant – I’ve got methods. As I had to explain to the NHS Direct handler once, if you ask someone whose house is full of toxicology manuals and anatomy textbooks how they’d kill themself, regardless of whether they want to or not, they’d be able to give you a plausible method basically off the top of their head. The other part of planning, I suppose, is the having my affairs in order – Again, since I’ve always been suicidal, I’ve always had my affairs in order. Documents for the mortgage, bank details, relevant passwords and advance directives, all in a folder in the bureau.

I suppose I’m typical in that the thing that’s stopping me is firstly that I refuse to give any of my friends the issue of finding me, and secondly that I have a phenomenal safety net. Dearest, Sister and Best Friend know that the second I say “Having the problem” they go into crisis mode and take shifts to make sure I’m always supervised (Whether that be online, in-person, or over the phone). I know to go and sit in a public place if I can’t be accompanied, both because I can then eat and drink without needing to make it myself, and because I won’t be able to do anything drastic.

This only really applies to Three and Four, of the major issues. The first two are constant, and just something I have to get on wtih.

Today is the fairly common combination of 1 and 2, with a hint of 4.

I am definitely not going to do anything about it. I am going to make a pilaf, then probably think about buying some bedding.

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15 thoughts on “Inside the skull

  1. Whatever it takes, please stay safe. You have good people around you who understand. This is hugely important.

    I’ve been in that place. I have seen the darkness.

    Best love

    Cathy xxxx

    • Much love to you both. Today is dark – I know it’s just a downtick after yesterday and much of last week being stressful, and it’s the last throes and thrashings of my seasonal stuff before the sudden upswing of spring, but eaergh it’s grim.

      Top Gear, pilaf, maybe some light admin.

      Just not sure how many more times I can do the hokey cokey.

      • It is my most guilty of secrets. I want to befriend James May and go for a long walk with him with a couple of red setters or working poodles or something for company, and talk about wine and cars and history and industrial design and all that.

  2. I want to build a life-size working replica of HMS Warrior with James May. Out of LEGO. Then sail it together triumphantly into the sunset.

    My guilty not-so-secret is The Archers. *Double blush*

  3. What is a working poodle anyway? Oh look! “Originally bred in Germany as a type of water dog, the breed was standardized in France. The poodle is skillful in many dog sports, including agility, obedience, tracking, and even herding.”

    Poodles herding!

  4. With a little more time to type…I recognise all of the above. I have been chronically suicidal for about 30 years. It is almost like a background hum.
    just at the moment its a bit more accute.

    • Yeah. Funnily, I was describing it to Best Friend on the phone today – that usually it’s like having a computer on in the corner of the room, it’s a background whirr that I can ignore, sometimes it’s like being in a car with the windows open, and you have to shout a bit to get heard over it, and sometimes it’s like standing in front of a jet engine and it drowns out everything else.

      Right now is like sitting next to a mechanical fire alarm. I am panicky and bothered and want to try anything to make it shut up, which usually starts with excessive exercise and tidying, and ends with either taking a tonne of drugs, or self-harming.

      Sick as it sounds – I’m glad to hear that someone else has stuck around for at least thirty years of it. It’s been something like twenty for me, and the knowledge that another decade is always possible is at least something.

      • Of course it is possible.
        I just explained it to mrsinky as being like having an aggressive earworm. You know…a little respect for example.
        doing stuff lije baking biscits you dont notice it. When you stop the lyrics start.

        I try to discover
        a little somethjng to stop my heartbeat
        oh baby refrain
        from resuscitation…

        Heres a challenge. Instead of self harm or drugs can you start from a fish base and do a quadrapedal origami giraffe?

        Or find a way of ysing oat so simple savhets as a basis for nut cutlets?

        Or make a soup using pot noodle?

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