I’m not really sure how to talk about this, because it’s so recent and so raw, and I also don’t even know why I’m writing this or whom the intended audience is. Is this a journal entry? Probably not, since I just used “whom”. Do I have another audience in mind? Maybe, but no one in particular. Am I just enjoying the experience of typing on a mechanical keyboard? Very possible.
But the relevant fact here is that 12 days ago, on a normal Monday around 6pm, I very nearly took my own life.
It was the culmination of many months (years?) of excessive stress, substance use to cope with that stress, underlying bipolar disorder (I was actively in a “mixed state” mood episode), and challenges with the most important relationship in my life: my marriage.
I’m not really here to talk about suicide in the abstract, or to tell some pseudo-inspiring story of why I chose to live rather than to die, but rather I’m here to reflect on the fact that everything I am now experiencing would not have been experienced at all if I had completed the suicide as intended.
Scrolling through the photos on my phone, there is a clear cutoff, delineated by a random screenshot on one side and a teary-eyed selfie I took in the back of an ambulance on the other. It was deeply profound and moving to realize that every single picture I have taken since that selfie — in the midst of devastation and hopelessness — would not have existed if I were no longer alive. All of the experiences captured in the subsequent photos simply would not have happened, and none of these memories would exist.
It’s almost as if my iPhone photo album now serves as a concrete manifestation of my decision (barely) to keep living. Everything I have experienced since October 13th, and everything I will experience from here on out, is simply borrowed time. A donation from the universe. Bonus points. It is impossible to be anything but net positive when I recognize that that date was the factory reset (and reboot) of my life.
I’m not sure if this will resonate with other people in quite the same way it hits me, but I have been consistently moved to tears in recent days by the above realization. I’m crying a lot these days in general, as life can be especially overwhelming when you didn’t expect to be here for any more of it, but scrolling through my photos reliably brings me a sense of gratitude. A sense of awe. Grounding.
I am so, so glad that I am still here to feel anything at all.
– alex
p.s. apparently this turned out to be more than just a journal entry…