qu13t5l33p
Member
- Jan 21, 2024
- 25
There's a set of train tracks right next to my place, with trains that run by at regular intervals. Some are slower freight trains, but others are fast passenger trains, going upwards of 130 kmh. Although it isn't my preferred method, as it is messy and far from victimless, I believe that laying on the tracks with the passenger train is my most viable option to CTB.
Since the new spring semester started at uni I've been extremely overwhelmed. Aside from the schoolwork, I also have many groups, check-ins, and appointments with mental health professionals who verify my well-being. I've had several attempts on my own life over the last decade, which have lead to this kind of mental health treatment. They also complicate slower suicide methods, since they will come into my flat at random times to ensure my safety. This overwhelm between school and treatment has added to my already substantial desire to permanently say goodbye.
On Monday afternoon I finally found time to slip out onto the tracks about half an hour before a train would pass by, without anyone knowing where I was. I felt motivated and comforted by seeing someone else on here say, "I'm scared, but it's okay. It'll all be okay." I was hiding in the bushes next to the tracks, crying, waiting, and telling myself that it's all gonna be okay. I heard the train start to come closer, saw it's headlight shining through the trees around the corner, and my mind immediately told me that death isn't what I actually wanted.
I do yoga, and one thing I like to do in order to find out if a stretch is too much or not is sort of ask my body how it feels. I do the same thing but with my mind, asking it what does it want? Does it want to relax, to be around people, to watch a movie, whatever. In this moment, with the train whizzing by, my brain told me that it wanted to stay put, to stay alive. I couldn't convince my self to move out under the train. My brain wanted me to stay alive because I was excited to try a new makeup that night, and have a kink munch coming up. I had the perfect opportunity to die, what I've wanted for so long, and I couldn't do it because I'm excited to color my eyelids blue? Really?
I walked back to my place, knowing that I couldn't tell anyone in my life what I just did. They'd throw me back in the psych ward and prescribe a bunch of new meds that only make me tired and hungry. So, over the past couple of days, I've let the experience sit inside me, festering. Something that I always thought to be true, that death would always be better than living, this phrase "nothing beats nothing," is actually not true, feels confusing.
It's Thursday evening now. I'm struggling through homework questions about principals, agents, and liability, and I can't stop thinking about how this seemingly newfound will to live is unjustified. Today hasn't been fun, or enjoyable. It has been mediocre at best. Being on the spectrum, I've had to interact with people in many uncomfortable ways, where I felt like I was stepping on eggshells, just barely behaving in a way that would keep them from insulting or attacking me. I wandered aimlessly around a store for half an hour, overstimulated, looking for something they were never carrying in the first place, and now I sit in front of my computer, procrastinating, with an empty stomach that I know I'll have to fill sooner or later. I know I'm new, and my post is too long, but thanks to everyone who reads my unjustified rambling.
What good has come of today? Where's the joy? The excitement? What's worth living for? What's worth suffering for? I stayed in the bushes on Monday because maybe I could feel some of that from doing a silly little makeup look once. This new, unjustified, optimistic feeling hasn't left me yet. It's only been three days and already I wish I wished for death again. Life made sense knowing it didn't make sense to live.
Since the new spring semester started at uni I've been extremely overwhelmed. Aside from the schoolwork, I also have many groups, check-ins, and appointments with mental health professionals who verify my well-being. I've had several attempts on my own life over the last decade, which have lead to this kind of mental health treatment. They also complicate slower suicide methods, since they will come into my flat at random times to ensure my safety. This overwhelm between school and treatment has added to my already substantial desire to permanently say goodbye.
On Monday afternoon I finally found time to slip out onto the tracks about half an hour before a train would pass by, without anyone knowing where I was. I felt motivated and comforted by seeing someone else on here say, "I'm scared, but it's okay. It'll all be okay." I was hiding in the bushes next to the tracks, crying, waiting, and telling myself that it's all gonna be okay. I heard the train start to come closer, saw it's headlight shining through the trees around the corner, and my mind immediately told me that death isn't what I actually wanted.
I do yoga, and one thing I like to do in order to find out if a stretch is too much or not is sort of ask my body how it feels. I do the same thing but with my mind, asking it what does it want? Does it want to relax, to be around people, to watch a movie, whatever. In this moment, with the train whizzing by, my brain told me that it wanted to stay put, to stay alive. I couldn't convince my self to move out under the train. My brain wanted me to stay alive because I was excited to try a new makeup that night, and have a kink munch coming up. I had the perfect opportunity to die, what I've wanted for so long, and I couldn't do it because I'm excited to color my eyelids blue? Really?
I walked back to my place, knowing that I couldn't tell anyone in my life what I just did. They'd throw me back in the psych ward and prescribe a bunch of new meds that only make me tired and hungry. So, over the past couple of days, I've let the experience sit inside me, festering. Something that I always thought to be true, that death would always be better than living, this phrase "nothing beats nothing," is actually not true, feels confusing.
It's Thursday evening now. I'm struggling through homework questions about principals, agents, and liability, and I can't stop thinking about how this seemingly newfound will to live is unjustified. Today hasn't been fun, or enjoyable. It has been mediocre at best. Being on the spectrum, I've had to interact with people in many uncomfortable ways, where I felt like I was stepping on eggshells, just barely behaving in a way that would keep them from insulting or attacking me. I wandered aimlessly around a store for half an hour, overstimulated, looking for something they were never carrying in the first place, and now I sit in front of my computer, procrastinating, with an empty stomach that I know I'll have to fill sooner or later. I know I'm new, and my post is too long, but thanks to everyone who reads my unjustified rambling.
What good has come of today? Where's the joy? The excitement? What's worth living for? What's worth suffering for? I stayed in the bushes on Monday because maybe I could feel some of that from doing a silly little makeup look once. This new, unjustified, optimistic feeling hasn't left me yet. It's only been three days and already I wish I wished for death again. Life made sense knowing it didn't make sense to live.
