Something I find myself constantly faced with is a constant, silent nagging sensation. Not necessarily a feeling, just a faint little twinging in the back of my thoughts. It sometimes comes out during low points in my mood, and when nobody is around I find myself vocalizing the thoughts. "I just want to die." It's not exactly wrong, there are points where I do, but...what stops that?

See...I was at a freethinker meet, called Reasonate, which was this day-long event involving talks and discussions over the course of a day, local guest speakers, and generally the first attempt in the city of Madison for freethinkers [unitarians, atheists, agnostics, deists so on and so on] to come together and mingle since...well, chances are pretty good that meeting one by random chance isn't going to happen. Most people around here are nominally christian and while they are rarely ever devout, I've found in the couple instances where it's been discovered that I am an atheist that the reception towards me gets markedly chillier, so I tend to just dodge the subject if I'm trying to build some kind of rapport with people for whatever reason. The event concluded at a nightclub that is targeted more for those of alternative lifestyles; goths, sceners, BDSM fans, LGBTs and their allies, all that fun stuff. It's actually my favorite haunt. So anyway, I got into discussions with some members of the local Unitarian Universalist Church, one of whom was a deist, and, drunk, I admitted this to them, in my typical blunt fashion, and he pauses and asks me...

"If you truly want to, though...and you are unafraid of death...why don't you embrace it?"

This is a question that I myself have stumped myself on. Make no mistake. I don't entertain the idea for some sick pleasure, nor for the sake of attention. I've committed it on three different occasions without informing anyone and with genuine effort put into it each time. Once, I stopped myself [the last time] but the first two times I survived by "luck." Though I wouldn't call it that. One experience was particularly long-lasting and excruciatingly painful for the failure.

I THINK...I am not SURE but I THINK that I've come to enjoy the sensation of experience far more than the idea of blanking it out. I've learned in many ways to take the suffering and the aches and pains and stresses and find some way of enjoying them. There's some some subtle, underlying part of me that has begun to find some sort of thrill in even the worst experiences. Maybe it's just my survival instinct. Oooor maybe I'm turning into a masochist, I am not sure... Either way, when I am asked by those of religion why don't end it, or what stops me from X or Y, I find myself responding more and more with "because I enjoy this that I have, and the fear of death is nothing compared to the fear of losing my life."

I get the impression I'm not alone in the overall point I'm trying to make [you know me, I love context].

An interesting side effect of all this is that the idea of hurting me with the truth being preferable over comforting me with a lie has become much more vindicated in my mind, because I have learned to take the worst and start learning to see the advantages to it. Used to be I was afraid of negativity in all of its forms because I was just so sick of it, but now...yeah, I am starting to see its benefits.

A question you might propose to those theists, who usually have some sort of idea of an afterlife for the righteous, is why they don't off themselves since they're so fond of saying the dead are in a better place.

I recall Bill Maher asked that of one of the people he interviewed in Religulous, and the guy was just dumbstruck for like five seconds.

The most common [and dull] rebuttal I always get is "suicide is a sin!"

Yeah well then just beg god to forgive you for your imminent sin, assholes.

How do you feel about taking risks with your life? I do that, and the nagging voice goes away. Skydiving, human slingshot, ziplining... that kind of thing.

Many Buddhists practice something similar regarding negativity. They often see it as opportunity.

In my genuine life or death experiences I have prayed to a god I don't believe in. I have laughed at myself after them when my conciousness eventually keeps up with the logical sequence of events that happened.

However, there are always urges that tell me to jump off bridges, step out in front of cars, blow my head off, etc. but when I'm trapped in fear of life I often overcome it eventually.

I sort of have these pacts when I hit rock bottom. Living becomes a synonym for dying. Might as well max out credit cards and travel the world first.

Did I miss a question in there somewhere?

For sake of context, I'm chronically suicidal, so the topic is familiar. I just don't know what you're asking.

I don't feel you missed anything. It's just expression, and seeing how many people can relate to the experience (and by how much).

"Suffering becomes beautiful when anyone bears great calamities with cheerfulness, not through insensibility but through greatness of mind." – Aristotle

"Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars." - Kahlil Gibran


I think it's definitely good for you that you learned to enjoy the experience of suffering. So now suffering is not suffering anymore since you enjoy it. Wait, that sounds like a a paradox ...

(February 14, 2013 at 10:23 pm)apophenia Wrote:


Did I miss a question in there somewhere?

For sake of context, I'm chronically suicidal, so the topic is familiar. I just don't know what you're asking.

Nope. There wasn't any question being presented. I'm just putting it forth, seeing if anyone else relates. It was something on my mind. Felt I might as well type it up and post it up; always seems to relieve the burden whatever I am writing about has on my thoughts.

Creed, let me first say that I respect your honesty and willingness to share your heartfelt emotions. I think melancholic people engage the world with a sad thoughtfulness that exemplifies a unique kind of courage and wisdom. As for myself I push myself through occasional bouts of depression. It seems the deeper I go into my own faith the more doubts I have. And that seems appropriate to me. The more you have to fight to enjoy life the more wonderful and valuable the days of simple pleasure become.

Rx Drugs do take the edge off, but they only take me so far. I need the power of Jesus. I know you see that as a crutch and I suppose it is. But not any more than having a good friend beside you when need him most. And for those of you who feel the urge to yuk it up at my confession, fuck you.

Technically, suicide is a sin, but clearly fear of sin is nothing compared to overwhelming feelings of despair. As for me I push through, because I believe the promise that the Lord provides abundant life to those who follow Him. Comparing were I was to where I am now, he's honored that promise even in my darkest hours. While I wish that you could find the same comfort as I do, I know you have to find your own way and I wish only the best for you.