Hope
I had an interesting conversation with a coworker after hours today.
She and I were amongst the only people in the building. I told her I was taking sick leave because I hadn’t been feeling well.
And she asked, and we talked.
I told her my story.
She told me her story.
She’s been through hell and back.
Came to this country at the age of 4, neither her mom or she knew english.
Father ditched them immediately. No child support.She got a stepfather.
He sexually abused her when she was 12. He was also an alcoholic. It actually led him to be paralyzed (drunk driving). After that he was very verbally and emotionally abusive.She was in an abuse relationship from 18-23. Man was an alcoholic and a black belt. He used to beat the shit out of her. Finally some other woman reported some other crime on that guy and he went to jail for 4 years, and she obviously was incredibly happy to get out of that hell hole.
Sometime in between she was very seriously depressed, and she had attempted suicide two times. Once by trying to cut a major artery, and the other by pills. (neither successful obviously).
And it was terrible to hear that. It really was.
I mean, it really is heart breaking.
But what was most interesting was to see her now.
She had a stable job, she had a husband, she had two kids, three grandkids. She was happy.
And looking at that, I saw that maybe I can get that too someday.
I suddenly feel less concerned that I will end up with a menial job doing nothing, accomplishing nothing, always debilitated with my disease.
It gives me hope…. And that’s soemthing I really needed.
- Akash Jain
Maybe I should be a cop.
That way at least in death, it’d have been for a good cause.
Because I’m going to die, one way or another.
Suicidal
I’m suicidal now.
I don’t care what happens.
If it costs me my life, that’s fine.
I’m tired of living like a pansy not doing what I wanted, not getting what I need, all that stuff.
Nothing’s in my way anymore.
I don’t care what the cost is.
If it’s my life, I might be just that much more willing to do it.
I just wish I had an honest friend to talk to.
Not one with any motive, who wants me alive, who likes me, but who can just be honest, and rational, and talk about this with.
I just wish I had a pure real friend.
Who wouldn’t dissuade me from suicide, who’d just talk to me.
Is that too much to fucking ask for?
Self Destructive
According to my friends, I’m self destructive.
They’re probably right.
I do things that are often risky, without thinking about all the ways it could hurt me. Or rather, I do think about the risks, and all that, very thoroughly but, I diminuate the risks.
Either I don’t really understand what’s at risk, or if I do, I don’t care if I lose it.
I guess that speaks to speak of my lack of self-preservation instinct.
But maybe that’s fine.
I don’t particularly fear or mind dying.
I’ve been suicidal for a long time.
For me, dying is something I’m resisting doing to hurt the people I care about, but death in itself, isn’t something I am terrified of.
If it costs me my life, I dont’ particularly mind.
If it leads to a large amount of pain, yeah, that’s something I’m not a fan of, but death….it’s never really affected me.
Maybe I am self destructive.
But I don’t really care.
If I die, so be it.
If and when I do die, chances are, it will be my fault, directly or indirectly.
Maybe I should stop being self destructive.
But why?
I have nothing I care about.
I have nothing I particularly live for.
People might say they care about me, they’d miss me and all that.
Fact is that yeah, they might miss me. they’d come to my funeral. They may have a temprorary depression after the fact, on the funeral, maybe a few months after that.
My parents would be affected more long term.
My other family too.
My close friends, who’ve known me for years, might be affected more, might remember from time to time.
But fact is, nobody would be that affeccted. Would really care. And that’s a simple fact.
I’m almost twenties, and I have yet to forge any real bonds, or have people really care about me, outside of my parents who have a biological imperative to.
I legitamately don’t matter.
My boss might miss an engineer, the uninverse might be short some tuition, my friends might miss having someone to takl to, or hang out with.
Fact is i don’t matter.
I am self destructive.
But I can’t imagine not being self destructive.
Nobody cares about me.
Hell I don’t care about me.
So why the hell should I endure pain? So others aren’t affected?
Fuck that.
I’m not suicidal.
i’m just rational.
It’s bullshit. Man, we’d miss you.
I can’t imagine living with you.
Why should you missing me change anything.
Yeah, suicide is selfish, so is everything else we do.
I shouldn’t have to endure pain so you don’t have some unhappiness.
Fuck that bullshit.
I’m tired of it.
God, just let me die.
Living’s done nothing good for me.
- Akash Jain
Everybody thinks that they are the above the fray kind of person, but you give it enough time, and add in enough desperation, nobody’s above the fray.
In the Morning - J. Cole (ft. Drake)
(Source: akashj)
A Month Later
4 weeks ago, I woke up in a bed I didn’t recognize, with clothes that weren’t mine, surrounded by people I didnt know, in some hospital I’d never heard of, after doing something I couldn’t remember.
That was a month ago.
Everything’s died down from that confusion.
A lot of people know what I did.
Some heard it from me, some from a blog post I wrote and posted on my public blog, and others from word of mouth.
Everything’s back to normal now, for the most part.
It isn’t as much of a big deal, and nobody mentions it or talks about it. I’m sure people remember, but it is no longer some big shocking news.
Most of my friends have accepted it and moved on.
Most aren’t angry anymore. Some still concerned, some still upset, but it’s something they’ve come to accept. I mean, what other choice do they have.
I’ve realized my mistake, and I’ve tried to make strides to ensure it isn’t something that happens under any circumstance anymore.
My parents…..it’s harder for them. I am their only child, and so, it’s still something that affects them.
I feel like they see me differently, almost as if I’m entirely new.
As if their son died in that hospital in the ER, and this is some new son. It’s interesting. They still feel I’m fragile and I need to be cared for but they have to give me space and all that. I’m sure it’s been tougher on them than anybody else.
Most of my close friends knew about the severity of my depression and my battle with suicide. For my parents it was something entirely unexpected.
For me, it’s changed me, not tremendously, but it is something that does bother me on a day to day basis. That I do think about in passing. It’s not that big for me, simply because I have come to accept it as an isolated incident, and nothing that speaks any greater to me than that I am vulnerable to the interactions of different medications (particularly, zoloft and vodka).
But it has changed some things, long term I’m sure.
It’s something that I do label myself with, and I’m sure others do too.
Saying someone’s depressed is one thing.
Saying someone has attempted suicide is something else entirely, and it’s something that does define you to your peers.
There’s a fine line between severe depression and suicide attempt, and somehow people see that line as thicker than it really is. People like me, we’re always at risk for an attempt.
Actually crossing that line doesn’t define how serious the depression is, but somehow it’s a big enough deal that others see it as two very different categories.
I don’t know.
i’ll grow to live with it, I’ll grow to accept it.
Things will change, things will get better.
But I feel that the attempt will always be a scar. It doesn’t define you, but everybody around you does see it.
I don’t know.
It’s been a month.
It’ll eventually be a year.
Eventually 5.
And then a decade.
And somewhere down the line it’ll be something so old, it’ll be a scar on an entirely different person.
Only thing is that it isn’t easy to escape your past. It does follow you forever, even when it’s so distant.
Anyway, it’s been a month.
Everything’s back to normal more or less.
- Akash Jain
