I pretty much decided to exit in 2014, around the time of turning thirty. I'd never once in my life contemplated suicide with any degree of sincerity, but I knew I felt like this life game was at an end, the game was over.
Since then, persisting to this day, suicidal feelings come on as an inkling and then grow like a cigarette craving or a drug hankering. It's like being drunk when I'm suicidal, because however long it lasts it's like there's a shroud over my consciousness. Planning suicide is a coping strategy I unconsciously utilise. When I plan to die I feel free, I feel like I can handle a temporary existence.
Sometimes it does wear off, like a mediocre but persistent high. Then I'm at a base level, barely functioning outside the drive to eat, sleep, and entertain my mind. But it always returns, and with each return comes a new obstacle to overcome, and a new element to the plan, so I progress towards death with each time, so much so I feel I'm pretty close, depending on how effective the night night method can be. If after solid effort I get no payoff, it'll be back to putting together a new plan, that'll happen with each wave of suicidal feelings.
Occasionally I enter fight or flight mode after sensing that I'm genuinely close to death, and I act impulsively, spend all my money, or make other drastic changes in life. But distractions only last so long, and as I return to normal it's only a matter of time before the sensation sweeps over me again, and I'm moving ahead towards death.