Depression doesn’t look like it does in movies and TV. People are learning that these days, but there are still things we don’t talk much about. With that in mind, I want to talk a little about my experiences with suicide.
I suffer from major depression, generalized anxiety, and autism. On the anxiety front, I have severe social anxiety. I can fake it, but social interactions are unreasonably draining for me. And yet, I’ve been a cashier for seven years now. It’s not something I would choose to do, but is one of the only jobs in my area I’m qualified for.
And oh god damn does that ever fuck with me. Being around people is hard for me. A lack of ability to show certain emotions well makes me feel awkward around people, which feeds into my anxieties, which feeds into my depression. Basically being around people is unnecessarily hard on my malfunctioning brain. And yet it’s my job; nothing but people for eight hours at a time. And that literally makes me want to kill myself. I don’t mean that as an expression, it quite literally makes me consider ending my life because fuck if I have to deal with that for eternity it’s not worth it.
And I’m not even saying that I feel like it’s not worth it, I’m just saying it’s not. I’m constantly hiding in the candy aisle crying from how overstimulating my job is, I come home and just feel exhausted, sometimes I sleep all day just because why should I be awake if I’m just miserable? And for what? 12k a year in a two-person household? That’s well below federal poverty levels. We barely manage to scrape by due to the goodwill of others. Sure, I could pick up more hours, but my job already makes me want to die. I could try to go to school with financial aid, but I’m again already overwhelmed to the point of contemplating suicide. When I look ahead and just see more of this, it makes me want to give up.
But I’m not here to talk about my job, I’m here to talk about suicide. My job and the poverty that goes with it is just the specific situation that gives me these thoughts, but for someone else, it could be anything. And it could be someone else. Anyone else.
Because see the thing is like, I don’t hate myself. Fuck, I love myself so god damn much that my therapist had no idea what to do with me. Depression victims usually have self-esteem issues, I have a colossal ego matched with a shitty brain that can’t function right. I also know I have a lot of good things in my life. I’ve been with the same woman for twelve years and we still love each other dearly. I have friends who are always there for me, friends I’ve known for years and can talk about anything with. I have talent; I’m a pretty damn good writer, and that doesn’t go unrecognized.
I have a lot to live for, and I know that. And it shows if you were to meet me. I’m not someone who sits around not caring about their life, who doesn’t have anyone that cares about them, who is just sad all the time. Aside from the autism occasionally making me act in ways people don’t expect (like body language, etc.) if you met me, I’d seem perfectly normal. A bit shy, perhaps, but you would never see any red flags.
And yet, sometimes I get so overwhelmed, usually from work, that I want to die. We don’t talk about that. People in general just don’t talk about suicide like that. If suicide is talked about, it’s usually either after the fact or in a crisis situation. Times when it’s too late, or very close to being too late. Society has not made it easy to say “I’m doing okay right now, but sometimes I think about killing myself.”
Because if we do that, people will worry. People will think we’re at that crisis point. And of course, we don’t want to worry people (even if sometimes people should be worried).
Or maybe it’s because if we talk about ourselves, we’re stealing attention away from people who really need it, as if compassion is finite. As if we don’t need it just because maybe someone else needs it more. As if it’s not better to address a problem before it becomes a crisis.
Or maybe the attention is the issue. We’ve all heard about “attention seekers” who don’t really feel the way they say they do, they just want attention. We don’t want people to think we’re like them. Maybe we even fooled ourselves to believe we are like them, just doing it for attention. But we don’t really stop to think much of who “them” is here. Because you know, if someone is that desperate for attention, maybe they kind of really fucking need it in the first place.
This isn’t about seeking attention, or even needing help from anyone other than the friends who already are there for me. This is just reaching out to anyone else who feels the same, because this is something people should feel like they can talk about.
I’m doing okay right now, but sometimes I think of killing myself.
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