bell hooks mentioned going through a time in her life where she was severely depressed and suicidal and how the only way she got through it was through changing her environment: She surrounded her home with buddhas of all colors, Audre Lorde’s A Litany for Survival facing her as she wakes up, and filling the space she saw everyday with reinforcing objects and meaningful books. She asks herself each day, “What are you going to do today to resist domination?” I also really liked it when she said that in order to move from pain to power, it is crucial to engage in “an active rewriting of our lives.”
I have come to think of the suicidal impulse as the brain waving a flag to say three things:
something needs to change here
this is urgent
I don’t know how to do it
death is the ultimate metaphor for drastic change. it’s a general specific. whatever your problems are, it is very likely that dead people don’t have to deal with them. a real solution to your problems may demand a very narrow range of action that’s likely to be out of reach at this moment, but death is sold on every street corner, so it feels like a more realistic fantasy than happiness.
you don’t really want to die per se but it’s also not completely random chemicals swamping your brain for no reason. you want the pain to stop, you want to be somewhere else, you want to be someone else. it’s urgent. you don’t know how to do it. the end is not the end but a means that feels within your reach right now.
this is the wisdom of bell hooks: daily rituals of meaning and resistance and solidarity are part of slowly building a future where you can make the change you really need. and only alive people can do that. every step you take towards change and power is another step away from death.
I always want to push back against the idea that you can will your way out of depression, but I feel the need to tell you all about my suicide salesman.
Four years ago I was massively overworked, stressed, undiagnosed bipolar and ADHD, actively delusional and still I was pretty cool with it. I was tough and could get through, ‘cause what else are you supposed to do?
Cue my suicide salesman.
At the time I fully thought he was a voice in my head telling to kill myself which is kinda true and kinda the ramblings of an undiagnosed crazy person. But HE WAS INSISTANT. Oh you can’t kill yourself that way, how about you try this way? Have you googled this poison per chance I hear it’s all rage? Thank god at the worst of it I was trapped at a campsite surrounded by people and without access to many of the easy ways to die. He wouldnt shut up though. If I told him I couldn’t die because it would make my family sad he would come back with reasons they didn’t care. If I said I didn’t want to die that way he would suggest another way. It was driving me absolutely fucking crazy(er). By the end of that weekend I was calling doctors and walking into urgent cares until I found someone willing to call in a crisis team. Your girl got grippy socks (I actually didn’t, COVID shortages meant they didn’t have any and I’m still bitter about it). No one really understood what I meant when I said “I don’t want to die, the guy in my head wants to me to die.” But whatever, they stamped me crazy and a danger to myself and locked me up. Thank god.
The odd thing was that he shut up instantly. As soon as I was on the boring side of lock up my salesman bro dissapeared into dust.
Then as the meds started to kick in and my brain started to click back online I realized my suicide salesman saved my fucking life. I would have kept running stuck in overworked emotional pain forever. He was screaming the worst possible solution so that I would face the fact that the life I was living was untenable.
I didn’t hear from him for a long time.
Two weeks ago I heard a familiar voice. After the initial two weeks of freaking out that I'l was going crazy again I remembered why this guy shows up when he does. I’m taking a look at my life and what I’m doing and what needs to change. It’s easy to dream of death when the other option is change. I hate change. Change is hard and uncomfortable and stupid and embarrassing at times, but it’s vital to our survival. I often find myself the frog in the slowly heating up pot. Suicide man points out the fire. It’s up to me to figure out how to crawl out and to safety.
My suicide salesman and I are not friends. I do not like him. I find him annoying and abrasive and he makes me cry all the time. But ☝️ he’s a good warning sign.
After the first time he showed up I had to change so much in my life. Less work, more reliance on others, shit ton of meds, counceling, but I think I’m doing better. At least now, with him hovering about, I know I’m not a danger to myself. I know why he’s here and I have a general idea about how to make him go the fuck away.
So yes, this is all right. I agree.



























