I've never quite felt like I belonged in this world. Exiting the world has seemed very attractive. While I've considered how, I've bucked the trend of people "like me" and never attempted suicide. My root issue was that I did not feel worthy to exist. The cause of my insanity was a combination of despair, disconnection, and unworthiness. With a foundation of abandonment and neglect in my very early childhood and social isolation in my teens, I just did not want to be here.
I am feeling "better" now, so much of what I will share is about my past. It is commendable to remember the past, even if the purpose is not repeating it. It is also commendable to not remember the past, as this may mean that one is not longer in vibration with it.
So I had a desire to end things. My life ran a gauntlet of manic energies, running from elated to despondent. I felt guilt at wanting to leave. The mainstream thoughts on suicide - it's a sin, bad karma, astral purgatories - only fostered my mental anguish. I finally felt relief when I realized that suicide was just another choice in life. It is one with karmic implications obviously. A "successful" suicide passes one out of life and a botched suicide can leave one really messed up. The "permanent solution" aspect of suicide made it clear that choice of suicide does require more thought than what cereal to have for breakfast.
In the end though, suicide is still a choice. There are many choices that we make everyday that other people don't like. Other people judge themselves against our choices, attaching their emotions to the outcomes. The judgment of others is amplified in the case of suicide. While the possible judgment of others gave me pause, I found the realization that it was my choice, stupid as it may be, to restore a portion of my sanity.
I am not actively pursuing suicide now. It is for me that I do this. Other people would be hurt, yes, and I acknowledge that. This is factored in but this is not why I do what I do. Am I selfish? Yes. We all are, but that's another entire discussion.
My madness has receded. My lovely mate tells me that I am not really insane. I just sometimes feel that way. Most days I don't feel crazy or even act it. Shoot, crazy is as crazy does. Do I still have a death wish? Yes. I like to believe it has transformed into a comfort with the possibility of passing. Would I have a regret if I were not here tomorrow? I think not. The mad road I've traveled has taught me a lot about death. I'm going to take on a challenge of writing about death. I have an outline I developed several years ago, when my insanity was at it's peak. Was I inspired? Perhaps. Time and more words on paper will tell.