achillescomedown
New Member
- Mar 21, 2021
- 2
Hello all. I'm new on the platform, only first heard of it a few days ago. I specifically looked for a place where I could discuss suicide with others and hear what others who feel kinda the same way have to say about this subject without everyone freaking out or even worse, drown out the conversation with as many positive thinking vibes as they can muster.
After two weeks of preparations (financially, emotionally, practically), I tried to CTB in July 2020 by falling off the roof of the apartment block I live in. I was very organised and calm the weeks leading up to it. I had decided the date and the place about a month before and I felt I had tied up quite enough loose ends to continue with the plan. I was amazed at how easily it came to me, as if I was preparing for a long trip abroad. I felt compelled to do this mainly out of existential reasons (I don't want to put in all the effort life requires of me, I don't see why I would do that since life inherently bears no meaning yadee yada yada, you probably all know this one). Even though I'm convinced I can't solve the fundamental issues I have with life, I still had and have some doubts. F.e. I can't figure out how so many other people, who struggle every single day as well, don't end up on a roof to end it all. I've never seen myself as anything but average, but I can't seem to let go I'm blind to something they cán see. If they have found a way to deal with it all, I should be able to too, theoretically. I'm still trying to deal with this, can't seem to find an adequate answer. I drowned out these doubts back in July, took some Lorazepam just to be sure and I convinced myself these doubts didn't matter, "since nothing matters".
So I climbed up on the roof, saw the beautiful view of the city, shivered in my thin blouse because of the chilly wind, but I weirdly enjoyed the cold since I knew any bodily sensation would be over quite soon. I arrived at the edge, took out my phone and keys because I wanted to drop them where I stood and looked down. I've never been afraid of heights in my entire life, but I knew there and then I shouldn't have looked down. Suddenly my body started to react heavily: my heart started beating quickly in my chest, I felt nauseous and I completely froze up. This freeze reaction was so bloody intense and now, after all the events occurred, I can only interpret this as an evolutionary ingrained response of a biological system that deems itself to be in major danger. I couldn't move a finger, literally. I couldn't step forward, I couldn't step backward to safety, I could even barely move my head. A midnight dog walker spotted me and called the emergency services.
They came within 5 minutes with two ambulances, four police cars and even a fire truck. They blocked off the entire street. They couldn't get on the roof for some reason, so they used the ladder of the fire truck to get to me. I was still standing where I stood. A fireman pulled me away from the edge and he pulled me to the ground, putting his own body between me and the edge. I wouldn't have done anything, since I still couldn't move. I remember how my head rested against his cold jacket while simultaneously feeling his bodily warmth. They asked me questions, I was mute. The fireman kept on telling me about his own life and wondered aloud many times why I would do this since I was too young to really know about life, but for some reason I really appreciated his explicit annoyance. I knew the shrink I would have to inevitably talk to would probably have this unbearably soft voice that would mask whatever they were really thinking. They dragged me off the roof in the basket of the firetruck ladder, got me down and rushed me into an ambulance. They tried to get my ID card which was in the cover flap of my phone, but my phone was lodged between my fingers and they couldn't get it out, because I was still very much petrified. My body had become a rock. They injected me with muscle relaxants, after which they could finally pull free my phone. They then took me to an urgent psych ward, where I stayed about a day and they released me. I was really panicky they would force me into a psych ward for weeks after this, but they were quite chill, actually. I went home the next day. I'm not a minor, so when I requested they wouldn't contact anyone of my emergency contacts, they had to comply. I got out of the hospital without anyone knowing what happened. To this day, there are still only three friends that know what happened that day, whom I've told only quite recently. When I opened my living room door the day after, my preparations still laid there, untouched, of course. It was weird seeing it all together like that. I put it all together in a large bag, put the bag away, sat myself down and wondered: "What am I gonna do now?". I'm still wondering. I'm still very much wondering.
After two weeks of preparations (financially, emotionally, practically), I tried to CTB in July 2020 by falling off the roof of the apartment block I live in. I was very organised and calm the weeks leading up to it. I had decided the date and the place about a month before and I felt I had tied up quite enough loose ends to continue with the plan. I was amazed at how easily it came to me, as if I was preparing for a long trip abroad. I felt compelled to do this mainly out of existential reasons (I don't want to put in all the effort life requires of me, I don't see why I would do that since life inherently bears no meaning yadee yada yada, you probably all know this one). Even though I'm convinced I can't solve the fundamental issues I have with life, I still had and have some doubts. F.e. I can't figure out how so many other people, who struggle every single day as well, don't end up on a roof to end it all. I've never seen myself as anything but average, but I can't seem to let go I'm blind to something they cán see. If they have found a way to deal with it all, I should be able to too, theoretically. I'm still trying to deal with this, can't seem to find an adequate answer. I drowned out these doubts back in July, took some Lorazepam just to be sure and I convinced myself these doubts didn't matter, "since nothing matters".
So I climbed up on the roof, saw the beautiful view of the city, shivered in my thin blouse because of the chilly wind, but I weirdly enjoyed the cold since I knew any bodily sensation would be over quite soon. I arrived at the edge, took out my phone and keys because I wanted to drop them where I stood and looked down. I've never been afraid of heights in my entire life, but I knew there and then I shouldn't have looked down. Suddenly my body started to react heavily: my heart started beating quickly in my chest, I felt nauseous and I completely froze up. This freeze reaction was so bloody intense and now, after all the events occurred, I can only interpret this as an evolutionary ingrained response of a biological system that deems itself to be in major danger. I couldn't move a finger, literally. I couldn't step forward, I couldn't step backward to safety, I could even barely move my head. A midnight dog walker spotted me and called the emergency services.
They came within 5 minutes with two ambulances, four police cars and even a fire truck. They blocked off the entire street. They couldn't get on the roof for some reason, so they used the ladder of the fire truck to get to me. I was still standing where I stood. A fireman pulled me away from the edge and he pulled me to the ground, putting his own body between me and the edge. I wouldn't have done anything, since I still couldn't move. I remember how my head rested against his cold jacket while simultaneously feeling his bodily warmth. They asked me questions, I was mute. The fireman kept on telling me about his own life and wondered aloud many times why I would do this since I was too young to really know about life, but for some reason I really appreciated his explicit annoyance. I knew the shrink I would have to inevitably talk to would probably have this unbearably soft voice that would mask whatever they were really thinking. They dragged me off the roof in the basket of the firetruck ladder, got me down and rushed me into an ambulance. They tried to get my ID card which was in the cover flap of my phone, but my phone was lodged between my fingers and they couldn't get it out, because I was still very much petrified. My body had become a rock. They injected me with muscle relaxants, after which they could finally pull free my phone. They then took me to an urgent psych ward, where I stayed about a day and they released me. I was really panicky they would force me into a psych ward for weeks after this, but they were quite chill, actually. I went home the next day. I'm not a minor, so when I requested they wouldn't contact anyone of my emergency contacts, they had to comply. I got out of the hospital without anyone knowing what happened. To this day, there are still only three friends that know what happened that day, whom I've told only quite recently. When I opened my living room door the day after, my preparations still laid there, untouched, of course. It was weird seeing it all together like that. I put it all together in a large bag, put the bag away, sat myself down and wondered: "What am I gonna do now?". I'm still wondering. I'm still very much wondering.
