/ot/ - off-topic

I tried a few times during particularly bad spells of depression but ended up giving up each time because I was terrified of being permanently disabled if I messed it up somehow and it didn't work.
Thankfully my depression isn't quite as awful now, which is why I wouldn't welcome euthanasia without thorough mental health checks. (Can't explain so well, so I won't elaborate on that.)

I attempted a few months ago after my mother died, but just ended up in psychiatric hold at the ER for 2 days. They let me go and referred me to an outpatient facility. I'm glad that it didn't work, because it made me realize how much I care about my boyfriend, but I wouldn't hesitate to do it if we broke up or something. I'm in therapy now, which helps a bit, but hasn't changed how I feel about dying.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm just wading through life, waiting for the right moment to actually go through with it. I have no friends or family, feel riddled with mental illness (diagnosed with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, and PTSD), and am really just started to feel absolutely worn out and ready to get it over with. It feels inevitable.

I absolutely agree with letting people kill themselves, under the right circumstances. If someone has tried everything they possibly can and nothing works or if they're situation is "terminal", it should be their own right to let them choose. Your life belongs to you alone, and it's bullshit that other people should be able to decide for you.

I have a diagnosed anxiety disorder and depression, but my mental state only ever flares to suicidal thoughts under extreme duress. Like, I could never see myself planning my own suicide unless I had a terminal disease that would slowly cripple me and leave me in horrible pain. I think of suicide a lot, but I don't idealize it or make plans in particular. I remember having my first thoughts of suicide in middle school.

Any attempt I've ever made has been spontaneous, stupid, and usually slacked enough so I could back out of it last minute. The last time I physically attempted it was in 2014. I just started grad school, was extremely stressed out, recently wrecked my car, and my two male drughead roommates were bullying me. I remember taking my camera strap off, putting the slip loop around my neck, and tying the other end to a bar in my closet. I stood in there crying hysterically trying to get the courage to lax my knees so I could cut off blood circulation, pass out, and hopefully die without being found.
My existential dread kept me from committing though. The thought of my brain tissue dying terrifies me. All of who you are is in your brain, and destruction of tissue happens in less than 7 minutes after oxygen deprivation. The sane side of me is mortified by losing myself, or worse yet–becoming a vegetable. I've never been committed to psychiatric holding or whatever just because I never confess it to anyone and nobody has ever caught me.
I also don't enjoy drinking alcohol at parties (by this I mean hard liquor, not stuff like wine or beer) because I usually get sad, and then when I'm alone I think about ending. Especially when I drive home alone after a party.

Both sides of my family has a history of mental illness. My biological father (narcissist parent) had an abusive dad and a pill-addicted mom. My mom's side of the family has deep-rooted emotional issues that are all repressed due to Catholicism. I think one great uncle of mine died from suicide as well.

In fact. earlier this year when I first told my mom about my anxiety issues/medication she insisted I wasn't "crazy" and that I simply must be faking these conditions for some financial gain from the state, or attention. I told her I didn't even have it in me to go to work or clean myself, she said I was "lazy." Basically I was raised in a household where mental illness like depression was called "feeling blue," and that chronic emotional unwellness didn't exist. Being called mentally ill was only for extreme cases like schizos and retarded folks. So let's just say my situation is eons better now that I don't live at home anymore. I'm not denied my problems because they conflict with my mom's skyfairy tales.

I do think suicide causes a lot of problems btw. Like if someone commits suicide via jumping off a bridge, throwing themselves in front of a train or car, etc. They're causing cleanup and investigations for others and not to mention trauma on innocent people who witnessed them do it. Any kind of legislation about voluntary suicide should keep it at a medical institution or at home. But anybody who wants suicide is going to find a way to obtain it eventually.