Ways of making peace with dying

[OhWellDerp321]

The way to make peace with dying is to stop thinking. Stop thinking about death. Stop thinking about if friends or family will be upset. Stop thinking what will happen to your belongings. Stop thinking about what you've done wrong. At the end of the day, unless you are a president of a country, the world will move on with or without us. It's sad. But until you can accept this, survival instincts will kick in every time.

 

[toadpoison]

Part of moving toward my date is making ever greater peace with dying. Not just death (no longer being here), but dying itself - that hurdle between living and death that I must also encounter en route. I think the 'dying' is where most people get hung up, understandably, with fear. I feel that the psychological process of making peace with things is a big part of what enables people to initiate and endure the dying part.

I'd like to share some ways of thinking about death and dying that have been helping me to make my peace. They are personal to my mind and life context, yes, but perhaps some of them will resonate with others, too. If they lend support or comfort to anyone, then the sharing is worthwhile.

For context, I am 31/F.

For info, I am not seeking advice here, and certainly no pro-life commentary (maybe there's hope for you, etc).

(1) Whether death comes by suicide or naturally, nearly every person needs to come to terms with death in their lifetime. This process is not just for those who want to catch the bus. If I were 75 and dying of cancer, I would still feel my heart wringing in my chest listening to my favorite choral music, feeling its beauty and the pending loss of it at the same time, aware of its inability to save me: either from death, or depression. I would still need to make my peace with leaving behind the things that feel good or beautiful in life, like old buildings and mountain vistas, and endure the sense of tragedy that I must cease to experience the good things anymore (minute as they've become in my reality).

(2) Death is scary for nearly everyone, and often painful. This isn't unique to the suicidal. I've watched 3 movies lately (all of which I recommend), which involve health problems and the protagonist dying prematurely: Me Before You, Breathe, and You're Not You. All of them (especially Breathe & You're Not You) face hospitalizations and death scares and physical pain, and a huge amount of uncertainty over how death will come about, and how it will feel. Will your lungs fill with fluid and you'll drown? Will you be gasping for air, asphyxiated? Will you be suffering in pain? Will it drag out for hours? And will you be suffering for years beforehand with age-related decline, eg with dementia or a motor disease?

Everyone wants to die in their sleep. This is why a lot of old people, eg through Exit International, want to take the end of their lives into their own hands. They've had the fortitude to make it to old age (unlike many of us), but even at that stage of life, there is plenty of fear about what a natural end will be like. Since natural death (the apparent panacea that we're meant to hold out for) is often scary and painful, and highly uncertain, suicide can provide a quicker, less painful death when a person is ready. I feel it can help to recognize that even many older people are facing many of the logistical end-of-life questions that young suicidal people face, and all the fear surrounding them. We could live to old age, and still end up at this point.

(3) I think a lot of the emotion I've experienced, as I've edged toward suicide over the past 15 months, is really just pure grief: grief over losing the good things I had before. I could have lived till 65 successfully, beautifully, and then everything could have fallen apart then: financially, with my health, etc. And I would be thrown into the reality of grieving what I had lost, at 65 instead of 31: the change for the worse in my circumstances, and the reality that I could never recover what I (or my life) had previously been. Would it be so much easier, just because I was 65? Probably not. It's a hard road to walk either way.

There is a good article here on grieving when you develop a chronic illness or injury, but I think it applies to any change for the worse in circumstances, when you cannot recover your old life; and when you don't know how to live your new one, or whether you can:
https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070714p18.shtml

(4) Related to (3), I think much of what I've been grieving is actually just getting older. It started out as grieving the me I had lost to mental illness last year: my brilliant brain, my career, and so on. But by now there are too many things that have changed, mentally and physically, that aren't due to mental illness, but just to getting older. They overwhelm me; they are just, quite literally, too much to bear. This is aging? Get me out of here.

For one, I experience grief over losing my unusual beauty. (I am only 31, it is not all gone, but it has taken an enormous hit - especially with severe hair loss.) People who are physically beautiful may understand the unique joy of being beautiful in life, even without being really aware of it, how it shapes your outlook and interactions with the world. Losing that, you lose much of who you have always been. Life becomes dreary and mundane. Without beauty, what is it all for? I don't judge other people's physicality, but it feels that way for myself.

And I experience grief over leaving behind other things I can never recover: my Oxford education, being full of promise and possibility in life, the easy nature of my warm, youthful friendships and relationships, being comfortable in my skin, my physical body (it does just change for the worse with age, no matter what you do), the experience and possibility of romantic love. I spent most of my 20s in education, and yet it's clear that that was just one phase of my life. I thrived there completely, but it was just a time. It is incredibly hard to move into a new phase of life where something that was your identity does not feature. (And nor could I do anymore what I did then; my brain was in a uniquely receptive space, which it isn't anymore. I was just rereading some old papers I wrote, and it was just a special time).

Like, who is Harry Potter when Hogwarts is done with, and the world is calm? I've lost my Hogwarts, and myself.

It's like there's this whole package of being a certain age, having certain qualities of mind and body; and when those things fall away over time, there is just this great emptiness in its place. Just about everything I've loved and have lived for is no longer present. Again, what is left? Just - nothing. Not enough to sustain a life, certainly.

I honestly don't know how people go on through their 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond. How do they bear getting older? (I also think my life was so good from 19-30, that there is a veritable chasm between its content then and today; and the contrast has knocked me out flat.)

(5) A further part of grief, for me, is the grief that life cannot be truly beautiful. I always thought that it could - I anticipated a great future, replete with a lovely historic home, a fascinating career, etc. But then, I was in my 20s, and there was that 'whole life package' going on in that decade. Remove the lovely pieces, and there is no lovely life. This realization has come as a shock to my system.

Anyhow, to sum up my thoughts regarding grief, I think it is all rather part of the human experience. It is not unique to me, nor to the suicidal per se. Many people are miraculously able to live with such grief - as many who read the 'grieving chronic illness/injury' article will inevitably do. I, myself, cannot. For me it is a chronic grief, unrelenting, and it makes life unliveable to me.

It makes me feel more peaceful to realize that a big part of my suicidality is actually grief over the human condition, in this sense, and my inability to accept it and live on in the midst of that pain.

(6) I think the most important thing, when choosing a method, is to choose one that (a) is reliable, and (b) you can bring yourself to do. It doesn't matter how flawless it is, if you cannot bring yourself to do it. And be as gentle with yourself as you can around it. I'm not going to wake up early to do it anymore, and give myself an alarm to dread; I'll do it at my own pace, get everything ordered, not rush myself. Ease into it. Just whatever makes it feel doable, and as comfortable as possible. I wish I could stuff chocolates into my mouth after I have drunk it, the way people are allowed to do with Nembutal. Hey, maybe I will allow myself just one. I like that.

(7) As far as what comes after death, I think that what provides the most courage to carry out the act is just letting yourself believe whatever feels most comforting. A perfect reality? Non-existence? Reuniting with loved ones? I technically believe we are biological accidents, and non-existence is our ultimate end. But for now, I'm allowing myself to believe in a perfect world of my making, populated by all my favorite people. No doubt I will draw on this 'in the moment' to make me feel stronger.

Perhaps I'll add in some personal mythology about catching the Knight Bus from Harry Potter there. Why not?

(8) Someone has compiled a lot of thoughtful ideas on the (painful) nature of human existence, titled Reality Is Negative. It is about the tragedy of life. I am finding it helpful. It is here:


(9) I have a running Word doc going that is my suicide note. I've been amending it a bit every day. It's helping me feel better about responding to people's emotions, and setting my affairs in order. I recommend this approach - it's very settling. I will print it just before, after I have taken my anti-emetics, to give me something to do.

One of my favorite songs:


EDIT: I added point 7 and fixed the numbering : )

This post clarified so much for me and my own feelings/ideals thank you so much.

 

[ManWithNoName]

Regarding my age, I also think of how different young poets, writers etc have killed themselves in the 25-30 age range. Like them perhaps, I prefer the 'life in your years', not 'years in your life' approach. We're all just different. I wish this was a public discussion in society, and that different orientations toward life were respected.

Many young creative types do die young just like you stated: "life in your years" perspective on one's human experience. I have often wondered if I knew than what I know now I might have off'd myself by age 25. I suspect idealism is a trait in the very young, and at some point that is eclipsed by the reality of the world. This is made more complicated in today's modernity—not sure—but maybe this eclipse comes in the form of one's expectations vs. what the real world is providing—despite the fact that reality rarely matches up with expectation. Certainly my college years were the best for me as my idealism was in full swing back then.

This reminds me of the story of the young poet Thomas Chatterton and his life cut short. A lot of Chatterton scholars have concluded that he died of an overdose of his VD medication as opposed to commiting suicide, but the idea of a poet unable to cope with the World such that it is and calling it quits is a very common thing.

 

[leavingsoon99]

Fantastic post. A lot there really resonated with me. I couldn't begin to have said it so well. The things about lifes meaning having been lost were really poignant. I'm near enough the same age as you and find it impossible to look forward to a different stage in life. In fact I find there isn't anything really left to look forward too. The difference being I suppose that 19-30 weren't good years for me. They should have been the best years of my life and I 'm aware of that now but they're gone and there's nothing I can do about it. The sense of loss is overwhelming. Naturally I'm not ready to get old when I was never young and it seems to be creeping up quicker than I ever could have imagined it would at seventeen. I too am trying to make peace with death. If I think about what might have been it makes me sad and it makes me angry. I failed and it's best to just accept it but I 'm not going to do that in life. This scene helps me find peace with it. One of the greatest scenes in the history of cinema. I'd love to be able to express myself in the same way but I 'll leave it to Rutger Hauer to sum up the human condition

This is the perfect way to accept death. Perfect. I love this movie as well.

 

[iwdphm]

what a beautiful mind...

 

[ManWithNoName]

Fantastic post. A lot there really resonated with me. I couldn't begin to have said it so well. The things about lifes meaning having been lost were really poignant. I'm near enough the same age as you and find it impossible to look forward to a different stage in life. In fact I find there isn't anything really left to look forward too. The difference being I suppose that 19-30 weren't good years for me. They should have been the best years of my life and I 'm aware of that now but they're gone and there's nothing I can do about it. The sense of loss is overwhelming. Naturally I'm not ready to get old when I was never young and it seems to be creeping up quicker than I ever could have imagined it would at seventeen. I too am trying to make peace with death. If I think about what might have been it makes me sad and it makes me angry. I failed and it's best to just accept it but I 'm not going to do that in life. This scene helps me find peace with it. One of the greatest scenes in the history of cinema. I'd love to be able to express myself in the same way but I 'll leave it to Rutger Hauer to sum up the human condition

Agreed btw did you see this analysis of that ending scene?: https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tears_in_rain_monologue

 

[oddetoad]

I'm gonna have to go through these threads cause I underestimated my action towards actually finishing the job ..

I think one way is to look at it like we're just playing a stupid game and we have to unfortunatley force quit the entire process.

 

[baabbaabbaab]

I'm gonna have to go through these threads cause I underestimated my action towards actually finishing the job ..

I think one way is to look at it like we're just playing a stupid game and we have to unfortunatley force quit the entire process.

Some have said it better than me, but we gotta stop thinking, which is basically what we are doing all day on SS.

Easier said than done, yup.

 

[oddetoad]

Some have said it better than me, but we gotta stop thinking, which is basically what we are doing all day on SS.

Easier said than done, yup.

I mean it would be way easier if I knew ..

1. What the taste was
2. That im guaranteed a swift death painlessly
3. That I know what happens after I die

These question marks alone make it much more difficult than it has to be.

 

[itsnotthatserious]

So eloquently said and poignant - in a beautiful way. Thank you for taking the time to write this. I hope whatever path you chose to walk down served you well

 

[0rez08]

The hair loss is what pushes me over the edge, so I can definitely understand that. I think the issue is far more conceptual and profound than what the 'shallow' idea of just 'hair loss' implies - as we've both touched on. I may think, 'oh well perhaps I can stay around and do this or that' - primarily, working on death with dignity issues in society. There could be a future for me in that. And then I think, 'yeah, without hair?' I just can't.

I think most people would prefer to be well, rather than die. But some then think, if I cannot be well, then I would rather die. I won't live in this horrid state.

This is my reasoning as well. The hair loss and my mental health have reach a crescendo to the point there's no turning back.
Attempted to several femoral artery two years ago while heavily intoxicated with a box cutter. I was found and required 13 stitches (I really got in there and tried)

Here's to hoping we find our peace.

 

[J&L383]

Part of moving toward my date is making ever greater peace with dying. Not just death (no longer being here), but dying itself - that hurdle between living and death that I must also encounter en route. I think the 'dying' is where most people get hung up, understandably, with fear. I feel that the psychological process of making peace with things is a big part of what enables people to initiate and endure the dying part.

I'd like to share some ways of thinking about death and dying that have been helping me to make my peace. They are personal to my mind and life context, yes, but perhaps some of them will resonate with others, too. If they lend support or comfort to anyone, then the sharing is worthwhile.

For context, I am 31/F.

For info, I am not seeking advice here, and certainly no pro-life commentary (maybe there's hope for you, etc).

(1) Whether death comes by suicide or naturally, nearly every person needs to come to terms with death in their lifetime. This process is not just for those who want to catch the bus. If I were 75 and dying of cancer, I would still feel my heart wringing in my chest listening to my favorite choral music, feeling its beauty and the pending loss of it at the same time, aware of its inability to save me: either from death, or depression. I would still need to make my peace with leaving behind the things that feel good or beautiful in life, like old buildings and mountain vistas, and endure the sense of tragedy that I must cease to experience the good things anymore (minute as they've become in my reality).

(2) Death is scary for nearly everyone, and often painful. This isn't unique to the suicidal. I've watched 3 movies lately (all of which I recommend), which involve health problems and the protagonist dying prematurely: Me Before You, Breathe, and You're Not You. All of them (especially Breathe & You're Not You) face hospitalizations and death scares and physical pain, and a huge amount of uncertainty over how death will come about, and how it will feel. Will your lungs fill with fluid and you'll drown? Will you be gasping for air, asphyxiated? Will you be suffering in pain? Will it drag out for hours? And will you be suffering for years beforehand with age-related decline, eg with dementia or a motor disease?

Everyone wants to die in their sleep. This is why a lot of old people, eg through Exit International, want to take the end of their lives into their own hands. They've had the fortitude to make it to old age (unlike many of us), but even at that stage of life, there is plenty of fear about what a natural end will be like. Since natural death (the apparent panacea that we're meant to hold out for) is often scary and painful, and highly uncertain, suicide can provide a quicker, less painful death when a person is ready. I feel it can help to recognize that even many older people are facing many of the logistical end-of-life questions that young suicidal people face, and all the fear surrounding them. We could live to old age, and still end up at this point.

(3) I think a lot of the emotion I've experienced, as I've edged toward suicide over the past 15 months, is really just pure grief: grief over losing the good things I had before. I could have lived till 65 successfully, beautifully, and then everything could have fallen apart then: financially, with my health, etc. And I would be thrown into the reality of grieving what I had lost, at 65 instead of 31: the change for the worse in my circumstances, and the reality that I could never recover what I (or my life) had previously been. Would it be so much easier, just because I was 65? Probably not. It's a hard road to walk either way.

There is a good article here on grieving when you develop a chronic illness or injury, but I think it applies to any change for the worse in circumstances, when you cannot recover your old life; and when you don't know how to live your new one, or whether you can:
https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070714p18.shtml

(4) Related to (3), I think much of what I've been grieving is actually just getting older. It started out as grieving the me I had lost to mental illness last year: my brilliant brain, my career, and so on. But by now there are too many things that have changed, mentally and physically, that aren't due to mental illness, but just to getting older. They overwhelm me; they are just, quite literally, too much to bear. This is aging? Get me out of here.

For one, I experience grief over losing my unusual beauty. (I am only 31, it is not all gone, but it has taken an enormous hit - especially with severe hair loss.) People who are physically beautiful may understand the unique joy of being beautiful in life, even without being really aware of it, how it shapes your outlook and interactions with the world. Losing that, you lose much of who you have always been. Life becomes dreary and mundane. Without beauty, what is it all for? I don't judge other people's physicality, but it feels that way for myself.

And I experience grief over leaving behind other things I can never recover: my Oxford education, being full of promise and possibility in life, the easy nature of my warm, youthful friendships and relationships, being comfortable in my skin, my physical body (it does just change for the worse with age, no matter what you do), the experience and possibility of romantic love. I spent most of my 20s in education, and yet it's clear that that was just one phase of my life. I thrived there completely, but it was just a time. It is incredibly hard to move into a new phase of life where something that was your identity does not feature. (And nor could I do anymore what I did then; my brain was in a uniquely receptive space, which it isn't anymore. I was just rereading some old papers I wrote, and it was just a special time).

Like, who is Harry Potter when Hogwarts is done with, and the world is calm? I've lost my Hogwarts, and myself.

It's like there's this whole package of being a certain age, having certain qualities of mind and body; and when those things fall away over time, there is just this great emptiness in its place. Just about everything I've loved and have lived for is no longer present. Again, what is left? Just - nothing. Not enough to sustain a life, certainly.

I honestly don't know how people go on through their 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond. How do they bear getting older? (I also think my life was so good from 19-30, that there is a veritable chasm between its content then and today; and the contrast has knocked me out flat.)

(5) A further part of grief, for me, is the grief that life cannot be truly beautiful. I always thought that it could - I anticipated a great future, replete with a lovely historic home, a fascinating career, etc. But then, I was in my 20s, and there was that 'whole life package' going on in that decade. Remove the lovely pieces, and there is no lovely life. This realization has come as a shock to my system.

Anyhow, to sum up my thoughts regarding grief, I think it is all rather part of the human experience. It is not unique to me, nor to the suicidal per se. Many people are miraculously able to live with such grief - as many who read the 'grieving chronic illness/injury' article will inevitably do. I, myself, cannot. For me it is a chronic grief, unrelenting, and it makes life unliveable to me.

It makes me feel more peaceful to realize that a big part of my suicidality is actually grief over the human condition, in this sense, and my inability to accept it and live on in the midst of that pain.

(6) I think the most important thing, when choosing a method, is to choose one that (a) is reliable, and (b) you can bring yourself to do. It doesn't matter how flawless it is, if you cannot bring yourself to do it. And be as gentle with yourself as you can around it. I'm not going to wake up early to do it anymore, and give myself an alarm to dread; I'll do it at my own pace, get everything ordered, not rush myself. Ease into it. Just whatever makes it feel doable, and as comfortable as possible. I wish I could stuff chocolates into my mouth after I have drunk it, the way people are allowed to do with Nembutal. Hey, maybe I will allow myself just one. I like that.

(7) As far as what comes after death, I think that what provides the most courage to carry out the act is just letting yourself believe whatever feels most comforting. A perfect reality? Non-existence? Reuniting with loved ones? I technically believe we are biological accidents, and non-existence is our ultimate end. But for now, I'm allowing myself to believe in a perfect world of my making, populated by all my favorite people. No doubt I will draw on this 'in the moment' to make me feel stronger.

Perhaps I'll add in some personal mythology about catching the Knight Bus from Harry Potter there. Why not?

(8) Someone has compiled a lot of thoughtful ideas on the (painful) nature of human existence, titled Reality Is Negative. It is about the tragedy of life. I am finding it helpful. It is here:


(9) I have a running Word doc going that is my suicide note. I've been amending it a bit every day. It's helping me feel better about responding to people's emotions, and setting my affairs in order. I recommend this approach - it's very settling. I will print it just before, after I have taken my anti-emetics, to give me something to do.

One of my favorite songs:


EDIT: I added point 7 and fixed the numbering : )

Amazing writing. I am twice your age but you are twice as wise. The original posting date was 5 years ago. If you're still here, thank you, if not and if there's an afterlife, I hope to meet you.

 

[XINGBATAI]

The biggest hurdle for me, and what keeps me from deciding to CTB is the uncertainty of what happens when we die. I am almost positive that the Catholic belief is false (that you only get one shot at life, and the way you live that life will determine your place in the afterlife for eternity).
However, I feel that there is a 50/50 split between the possibility of the reincarnation (Buddhist/Taoist belief ) or nothing.

If we just cease to exist after death, then I would be ok with that. However, if there is even a small chance that I would suffer karmic repercussions for CTB and be reincarnated only to suffer again the pain that I tried to escape, I can't bring myself to risk it. I absolutely don't want to have to go through living in a similar world again.
I'm not really sure what to do because I can't find a way to discover the truth without actually dying, but I can't bring myself to CTB without knowing the truth. (Though there are a few circumstances that I can think of where I would immediately CTB without caring, but fortunately, none of those circumstances have occurred)

I'm curious how others feel about this, how they reconcile it, and/or if they even think about such things before deciding to CTB.

 

[Mocon33]

The biggest hurdle for me, and what keeps me from deciding to CTB is the uncertainty of what happens when we die. I am almost positive that the Catholic belief is false (that you only get one shot at life, and the way you live that life will determine your place in the afterlife for eternity).
However, I feel that there is a 50/50 split between the possibility of the reincarnation (Buddhist/Taoist belief ) or nothing.

If we just cease to exist after death, then I would be ok with that. However, if there is even a small chance that I would suffer karmic repercussions for CTB and be reincarnated only to suffer again the pain that I tried to escape, I can't bring myself to risk it. I absolutely don't want to have to go through living in a similar world again.
I'm not really sure what to do because I can't find a way to discover the truth without actually dying, but I can't bring myself to CTB without knowing the truth. (Though there are a few circumstances that I can think of where I would immediately CTB without caring, but fortunately, none of those circumstances have occurred)

I'm curious how others feel about this, how they reconcile it, and/or if they even think about such things before deciding to CTB.

I don't believe in reincarnation myself, but even if it were true it wouldn't matter. The reincarnated person wouldn't remember being you, so they wouldn't be you. "you" will be gone after you die, no worries about that.

 

[XINGBATAI]

I don't believe in reincarnation myself, but even if it were true it wouldn't matter. The reincarnated person wouldn't remember being you, so they wouldn't be you. "you" will be gone after you die, no worries about that.

Oh I know that if indeed reincarnation is true, I won't remember my previous life. However, I will still have to exhaust the karma that I tried to escape by CTB, so even if I didn't remember, I would still be suffering all over again

 

[Endofit]

Wonderful read. It's been six years and I wonder what happened to you. I will keep this post to read it again later.

 

[Silent_cries]

Part of moving toward my date is making ever greater peace with dying. Not just death (no longer being here), but dying itself - that hurdle between living and death that I must also encounter en route. I think the 'dying' is where most people get hung up, understandably, with fear. I feel that the psychological process of making peace with things is a big part of what enables people to initiate and endure the dying part.

I'd like to share some ways of thinking about death and dying that have been helping me to make my peace. They are personal to my mind and life context, yes, but perhaps some of them will resonate with others, too. If they lend support or comfort to anyone, then the sharing is worthwhile.

For context, I am 31/F.

For info, I am not seeking advice here, and certainly no pro-life commentary (maybe there's hope for you, etc).

(1) Whether death comes by suicide or naturally, nearly every person needs to come to terms with death in their lifetime. This process is not just for those who want to catch the bus. If I were 75 and dying of cancer, I would still feel my heart wringing in my chest listening to my favorite choral music, feeling its beauty and the pending loss of it at the same time, aware of its inability to save me: either from death, or depression. I would still need to make my peace with leaving behind the things that feel good or beautiful in life, like old buildings and mountain vistas, and endure the sense of tragedy that I must cease to experience the good things anymore (minute as they've become in my reality).

(2) Death is scary for nearly everyone, and often painful. This isn't unique to the suicidal. I've watched 3 movies lately (all of which I recommend), which involve health problems and the protagonist dying prematurely: Me Before You, Breathe, and You're Not You. All of them (especially Breathe & You're Not You) face hospitalizations and death scares and physical pain, and a huge amount of uncertainty over how death will come about, and how it will feel. Will your lungs fill with fluid and you'll drown? Will you be gasping for air, asphyxiated? Will you be suffering in pain? Will it drag out for hours? And will you be suffering for years beforehand with age-related decline, eg with dementia or a motor disease?

Everyone wants to die in their sleep. This is why a lot of old people, eg through Exit International, want to take the end of their lives into their own hands. They've had the fortitude to make it to old age (unlike many of us), but even at that stage of life, there is plenty of fear about what a natural end will be like. Since natural death (the apparent panacea that we're meant to hold out for) is often scary and painful, and highly uncertain, suicide can provide a quicker, less painful death when a person is ready. I feel it can help to recognize that even many older people are facing many of the logistical end-of-life questions that young suicidal people face, and all the fear surrounding them. We could live to old age, and still end up at this point.

(3) I think a lot of the emotion I've experienced, as I've edged toward suicide over the past 15 months, is really just pure grief: grief over losing the good things I had before. I could have lived till 65 successfully, beautifully, and then everything could have fallen apart then: financially, with my health, etc. And I would be thrown into the reality of grieving what I had lost, at 65 instead of 31: the change for the worse in my circumstances, and the reality that I could never recover what I (or my life) had previously been. Would it be so much easier, just because I was 65? Probably not. It's a hard road to walk either way.

There is a good article here on grieving when you develop a chronic illness or injury, but I think it applies to any change for the worse in circumstances, when you cannot recover your old life; and when you don't know how to live your new one, or whether you can:
https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070714p18.shtml

(4) Related to (3), I think much of what I've been grieving is actually just getting older. It started out as grieving the me I had lost to mental illness last year: my brilliant brain, my career, and so on. But by now there are too many things that have changed, mentally and physically, that aren't due to mental illness, but just to getting older. They overwhelm me; they are just, quite literally, too much to bear. This is aging? Get me out of here.

For one, I experience grief over losing my unusual beauty. (I am only 31, it is not all gone, but it has taken an enormous hit - especially with severe hair loss.) People who are physically beautiful may understand the unique joy of being beautiful in life, even without being really aware of it, how it shapes your outlook and interactions with the world. Losing that, you lose much of who you have always been. Life becomes dreary and mundane. Without beauty, what is it all for? I don't judge other people's physicality, but it feels that way for myself.

And I experience grief over leaving behind other things I can never recover: my Oxford education, being full of promise and possibility in life, the easy nature of my warm, youthful friendships and relationships, being comfortable in my skin, my physical body (it does just change for the worse with age, no matter what you do), the experience and possibility of romantic love. I spent most of my 20s in education, and yet it's clear that that was just one phase of my life. I thrived there completely, but it was just a time. It is incredibly hard to move into a new phase of life where something that was your identity does not feature. (And nor could I do anymore what I did then; my brain was in a uniquely receptive space, which it isn't anymore. I was just rereading some old papers I wrote, and it was just a special time).

Like, who is Harry Potter when Hogwarts is done with, and the world is calm? I've lost my Hogwarts, and myself.

It's like there's this whole package of being a certain age, having certain qualities of mind and body; and when those things fall away over time, there is just this great emptiness in its place. Just about everything I've loved and have lived for is no longer present. Again, what is left? Just - nothing. Not enough to sustain a life, certainly.

I honestly don't know how people go on through their 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond. How do they bear getting older? (I also think my life was so good from 19-30, that there is a veritable chasm between its content then and today; and the contrast has knocked me out flat.)

(5) A further part of grief, for me, is the grief that life cannot be truly beautiful. I always thought that it could - I anticipated a great future, replete with a lovely historic home, a fascinating career, etc. But then, I was in my 20s, and there was that 'whole life package' going on in that decade. Remove the lovely pieces, and there is no lovely life. This realization has come as a shock to my system.

Anyhow, to sum up my thoughts regarding grief, I think it is all rather part of the human experience. It is not unique to me, nor to the suicidal per se. Many people are miraculously able to live with such grief - as many who read the 'grieving chronic illness/injury' article will inevitably do. I, myself, cannot. For me it is a chronic grief, unrelenting, and it makes life unliveable to me.

It makes me feel more peaceful to realize that a big part of my suicidality is actually grief over the human condition, in this sense, and my inability to accept it and live on in the midst of that pain.

(6) I think the most important thing, when choosing a method, is to choose one that (a) is reliable, and (b) you can bring yourself to do. It doesn't matter how flawless it is, if you cannot bring yourself to do it. And be as gentle with yourself as you can around it. I'm not going to wake up early to do it anymore, and give myself an alarm to dread; I'll do it at my own pace, get everything ordered, not rush myself. Ease into it. Just whatever makes it feel doable, and as comfortable as possible. I wish I could stuff chocolates into my mouth after I have drunk it, the way people are allowed to do with Nembutal. Hey, maybe I will allow myself just one. I like that.

(7) As far as what comes after death, I think that what provides the most courage to carry out the act is just letting yourself believe whatever feels most comforting. A perfect reality? Non-existence? Reuniting with loved ones? I technically believe we are biological accidents, and non-existence is our ultimate end. But for now, I'm allowing myself to believe in a perfect world of my making, populated by all my favorite people. No doubt I will draw on this 'in the moment' to make me feel stronger.

Perhaps I'll add in some personal mythology about catching the Knight Bus from Harry Potter there. Why not?

(8) Someone has compiled a lot of thoughtful ideas on the (painful) nature of human existence, titled Reality Is Negative. It is about the tragedy of life. I am finding it helpful. It is here:


(9) I have a running Word doc going that is my suicide note. I've been amending it a bit every day. It's helping me feel better about responding to people's emotions, and setting my affairs in order. I recommend this approach - it's very settling. I will print it just before, after I have taken my anti-emetics, to give me something to do.

One of my favorite songs:


EDIT: I added point 7 and fixed the numbering : )

Do you think you could make a shortened version of this? Not everyone has the mental capacity to read through all of this, yk. This is very useful though, thank you!

 

[ManWithNoName]

Regarding my age, I also think of how different young poets, writers etc have killed themselves in the 25-30 age range. Like them perhaps, I prefer the 'life in your years', not 'years in your life' approach. We're all just different. I wish this was a public discussion in society, and that different orientations toward life were respected.

BTW here is that Chatterton mini documentary about the famous poet Thomas Chatterton, it seems as if whenever anybody posts it, youtube removes it. Here it is—for the time being anyway:

 

[Ctrl_Alt_DEL]

Part of moving toward my date is making ever greater peace with dying. Not just death (no longer being here), but dying itself - that hurdle between living and death that I must also encounter en route. I think the 'dying' is where most people get hung up, understandably, with fear. I feel that the psychological process of making peace with things is a big part of what enables people to initiate and endure the dying part.

I'd like to share some ways of thinking about death and dying that have been helping me to make my peace. They are personal to my mind and life context, yes, but perhaps some of them will resonate with others, too. If they lend support or comfort to anyone, then the sharing is worthwhile.

For context, I am 31/F.

For info, I am not seeking advice here, and certainly no pro-life commentary (maybe there's hope for you, etc).

(1) Whether death comes by suicide or naturally, nearly every person needs to come to terms with death in their lifetime. This process is not just for those who want to catch the bus. If I were 75 and dying of cancer, I would still feel my heart wringing in my chest listening to my favorite choral music, feeling its beauty and the pending loss of it at the same time, aware of its inability to save me: either from death, or depression. I would still need to make my peace with leaving behind the things that feel good or beautiful in life, like old buildings and mountain vistas, and endure the sense of tragedy that I must cease to experience the good things anymore (minute as they've become in my reality).

(2) Death is scary for nearly everyone, and often painful. This isn't unique to the suicidal. I've watched 3 movies lately (all of which I recommend), which involve health problems and the protagonist dying prematurely: Me Before You, Breathe, and You're Not You. All of them (especially Breathe & You're Not You) face hospitalizations and death scares and physical pain, and a huge amount of uncertainty over how death will come about, and how it will feel. Will your lungs fill with fluid and you'll drown? Will you be gasping for air, asphyxiated? Will you be suffering in pain? Will it drag out for hours? And will you be suffering for years beforehand with age-related decline, eg with dementia or a motor disease?

Everyone wants to die in their sleep. This is why a lot of old people, eg through Exit International, want to take the end of their lives into their own hands. They've had the fortitude to make it to old age (unlike many of us), but even at that stage of life, there is plenty of fear about what a natural end will be like. Since natural death (the apparent panacea that we're meant to hold out for) is often scary and painful, and highly uncertain, suicide can provide a quicker, less painful death when a person is ready. I feel it can help to recognize that even many older people are facing many of the logistical end-of-life questions that young suicidal people face, and all the fear surrounding them. We could live to old age, and still end up at this point.

(3) I think a lot of the emotion I've experienced, as I've edged toward suicide over the past 15 months, is really just pure grief: grief over losing the good things I had before. I could have lived till 65 successfully, beautifully, and then everything could have fallen apart then: financially, with my health, etc. And I would be thrown into the reality of grieving what I had lost, at 65 instead of 31: the change for the worse in my circumstances, and the reality that I could never recover what I (or my life) had previously been. Would it be so much easier, just because I was 65? Probably not. It's a hard road to walk either way.

There is a good article here on grieving when you develop a chronic illness or injury, but I think it applies to any change for the worse in circumstances, when you cannot recover your old life; and when you don't know how to live your new one, or whether you can:
https://www.socialworktoday.com/archive/070714p18.shtml

(4) Related to (3), I think much of what I've been grieving is actually just getting older. It started out as grieving the me I had lost to mental illness last year: my brilliant brain, my career, and so on. But by now there are too many things that have changed, mentally and physically, that aren't due to mental illness, but just to getting older. They overwhelm me; they are just, quite literally, too much to bear. This is aging? Get me out of here.

For one, I experience grief over losing my unusual beauty. (I am only 31, it is not all gone, but it has taken an enormous hit - especially with severe hair loss.) People who are physically beautiful may understand the unique joy of being beautiful in life, even without being really aware of it, how it shapes your outlook and interactions with the world. Losing that, you lose much of who you have always been. Life becomes dreary and mundane. Without beauty, what is it all for? I don't judge other people's physicality, but it feels that way for myself.

And I experience grief over leaving behind other things I can never recover: my Oxford education, being full of promise and possibility in life, the easy nature of my warm, youthful friendships and relationships, being comfortable in my skin, my physical body (it does just change for the worse with age, no matter what you do), the experience and possibility of romantic love. I spent most of my 20s in education, and yet it's clear that that was just one phase of my life. I thrived there completely, but it was just a time. It is incredibly hard to move into a new phase of life where something that was your identity does not feature. (And nor could I do anymore what I did then; my brain was in a uniquely receptive space, which it isn't anymore. I was just rereading some old papers I wrote, and it was just a special time).

Like, who is Harry Potter when Hogwarts is done with, and the world is calm? I've lost my Hogwarts, and myself.

It's like there's this whole package of being a certain age, having certain qualities of mind and body; and when those things fall away over time, there is just this great emptiness in its place. Just about everything I've loved and have lived for is no longer present. Again, what is left? Just - nothing. Not enough to sustain a life, certainly.

I honestly don't know how people go on through their 30s, 40s, 50s and beyond. How do they bear getting older? (I also think my life was so good from 19-30, that there is a veritable chasm between its content then and today; and the contrast has knocked me out flat.)

(5) A further part of grief, for me, is the grief that life cannot be truly beautiful. I always thought that it could - I anticipated a great future, replete with a lovely historic home, a fascinating career, etc. But then, I was in my 20s, and there was that 'whole life package' going on in that decade. Remove the lovely pieces, and there is no lovely life. This realization has come as a shock to my system.

Anyhow, to sum up my thoughts regarding grief, I think it is all rather part of the human experience. It is not unique to me, nor to the suicidal per se. Many people are miraculously able to live with such grief - as many who read the 'grieving chronic illness/injury' article will inevitably do. I, myself, cannot. For me it is a chronic grief, unrelenting, and it makes life unliveable to me.

It makes me feel more peaceful to realize that a big part of my suicidality is actually grief over the human condition, in this sense, and my inability to accept it and live on in the midst of that pain.

(6) I think the most important thing, when choosing a method, is to choose one that (a) is reliable, and (b) you can bring yourself to do. It doesn't matter how flawless it is, if you cannot bring yourself to do it. And be as gentle with yourself as you can around it. I'm not going to wake up early to do it anymore, and give myself an alarm to dread; I'll do it at my own pace, get everything ordered, not rush myself. Ease into it. Just whatever makes it feel doable, and as comfortable as possible. I wish I could stuff chocolates into my mouth after I have drunk it, the way people are allowed to do with Nembutal. Hey, maybe I will allow myself just one. I like that.

(7) As far as what comes after death, I think that what provides the most courage to carry out the act is just letting yourself believe whatever feels most comforting. A perfect reality? Non-existence? Reuniting with loved ones? I technically believe we are biological accidents, and non-existence is our ultimate end. But for now, I'm allowing myself to believe in a perfect world of my making, populated by all my favorite people. No doubt I will draw on this 'in the moment' to make me feel stronger.

Perhaps I'll add in some personal mythology about catching the Knight Bus from Harry Potter there. Why not?

(8) Someone has compiled a lot of thoughtful ideas on the (painful) nature of human existence, titled Reality Is Negative. It is about the tragedy of life. I am finding it helpful. It is here:


(9) I have a running Word doc going that is my suicide note. I've been amending it a bit every day. It's helping me feel better about responding to people's emotions, and setting my affairs in order. I recommend this approach - it's very settling. I will print it just before, after I have taken my anti-emetics, to give me something to do.

One of my favorite songs:


EDIT: I added point 7 and fixed the numbering : )

Excelent text for the ones who are almost ready to CTB. Her writing make me feel more in peace with the dying process. I will reread again.

 

[Ctrl_Alt_DEL]

One of the greatest scenes in the history of cinema. I'd love to be able to express myself in the same way but I 'll leave it to Rutger Hauer to sum up the human condition

Great scene! I may play this scene when ill be in my ctb act. Lol

 

[Lifeaffirmingchoice]

Is it confirmed that @windingdown ctb'ed?

 

[J&L383]

I wonder, too. But her observations are timeless, whether she is still in this world or not.