If anyone asks what happened, make sure they know. Make sure they can't spout the usual nonsense. I don't even need to repeat what that is because I'm sure you already know which empty platitudes and euphemisms they like to use.
Instead, make sure everyone knows that it wasn't a case of impulsivity, or not 'reaching out'. Make sure people know that I did everything I was supposed to, but this was always the end goal. Say out loud that the aim was never to help, or provide relief, or improve my life. The MO was always a managed decline. A slow and gradual, barely noticeable descent into oblivion. People talk about reaching rock bottom but they don't mention the different ways you get there (it's not always with high speed, visible impact. Sometimes it's quiet and lonely). Or even that it's not the worst position to be in. I feel like being suspended indefinitely, just hanging there not coming or going, is the worst kind of pain.
So make sure it's well known that all the people who supposedly were going to 'help' - whatever that means - didn't. And that was the entire point. Let me fade into nothing. It's no gain or loss, just insignificant. What are you supposed to do when nobody hears or sees your pain? In this world everything has to be a performance. If your pain isn't dramatic, does it really matter? If it's known to anyone and everyone, does it even exist? If it's never been validated by a professional, is it really that painful?
The truth is they pick and choose who's worthy, who would make a good 'recovery' story. But it's worse than that. They didn't just rob me of 'recovery', they deprived me of anything to 'recover' from. Nobody made space for my pain. Yes I hid it well a lot (but not all) of the time. But the times when I didn't it came out in anger and nobody sympathises with anger. Anger repels. Even though anger is so often sadness. Why should I have to parade my pain around for it to be realised?
But that was all part of my managed decline. I'm all hot air. Nothing more.
Contrary to the myths about people not speaking up, or hiding things - an insidious way of blaming the dead - I answered all the questions, I made my pain clear. But that's what finished me. The silence sends the clearest message: 'You don't matter.' It was all about ticking the boxes. They didn't want to help, they just wanted to be an audience watching from afar, tuning in whenever they felt like it and switching off when it didn't suit them. But I noticed everything. I noticed how the smile disappeared, the days became longer, simple acts become harder, hoping turns into a tease, the people around become fewer and fewer, the scrolling becomes more incessant, the thoughts become more muddled until it's just indecipherable noise in your head.
Sometimes I think: if you saw me in my most private moments, would you believe me then? The thing stopping those moments of despair becoming public is anxiety. The anxiety of being judged, not heard, nor seen. I still feel like that anyway, but at least I can put it down to my own insecurities, not a justified and evidenced truth.
They talk all the time about people feeling like they have to be worse and worse before anyone listens. But just like drowning, I fought and I fought, but they hold you underwater until your muffled screams just go silent. And then they say 'oops'.
Instead, make sure everyone knows that it wasn't a case of impulsivity, or not 'reaching out'. Make sure people know that I did everything I was supposed to, but this was always the end goal. Say out loud that the aim was never to help, or provide relief, or improve my life. The MO was always a managed decline. A slow and gradual, barely noticeable descent into oblivion. People talk about reaching rock bottom but they don't mention the different ways you get there (it's not always with high speed, visible impact. Sometimes it's quiet and lonely). Or even that it's not the worst position to be in. I feel like being suspended indefinitely, just hanging there not coming or going, is the worst kind of pain.
So make sure it's well known that all the people who supposedly were going to 'help' - whatever that means - didn't. And that was the entire point. Let me fade into nothing. It's no gain or loss, just insignificant. What are you supposed to do when nobody hears or sees your pain? In this world everything has to be a performance. If your pain isn't dramatic, does it really matter? If it's known to anyone and everyone, does it even exist? If it's never been validated by a professional, is it really that painful?
The truth is they pick and choose who's worthy, who would make a good 'recovery' story. But it's worse than that. They didn't just rob me of 'recovery', they deprived me of anything to 'recover' from. Nobody made space for my pain. Yes I hid it well a lot (but not all) of the time. But the times when I didn't it came out in anger and nobody sympathises with anger. Anger repels. Even though anger is so often sadness. Why should I have to parade my pain around for it to be realised?
But that was all part of my managed decline. I'm all hot air. Nothing more.
Contrary to the myths about people not speaking up, or hiding things - an insidious way of blaming the dead - I answered all the questions, I made my pain clear. But that's what finished me. The silence sends the clearest message: 'You don't matter.' It was all about ticking the boxes. They didn't want to help, they just wanted to be an audience watching from afar, tuning in whenever they felt like it and switching off when it didn't suit them. But I noticed everything. I noticed how the smile disappeared, the days became longer, simple acts become harder, hoping turns into a tease, the people around become fewer and fewer, the scrolling becomes more incessant, the thoughts become more muddled until it's just indecipherable noise in your head.
Sometimes I think: if you saw me in my most private moments, would you believe me then? The thing stopping those moments of despair becoming public is anxiety. The anxiety of being judged, not heard, nor seen. I still feel like that anyway, but at least I can put it down to my own insecurities, not a justified and evidenced truth.
They talk all the time about people feeling like they have to be worse and worse before anyone listens. But just like drowning, I fought and I fought, but they hold you underwater until your muffled screams just go silent. And then they say 'oops'.
