I am not yet sure I want to die. But the reason I do is I hate myself. I do not want to fail in my plans and dreams one single time more. It doesn't matter what I can show for myself - because of my bipolar II diagnosis 20 years ago I am considered a weak, unreliable liability.
I just had to quit school I had started because I didn't pass the medical needed for apprenticeship. I had all these testimonies and references and recommendations but they didn't give a shit. If you have that diagnosis, they don't care about who you are and what you do, they just see the diagnosis and think that you are weak and can't be trusted.
I'm 49. You don't get many new chances at my age. I am already considered way past the best before date - so starting again from zero without a clue does not appeal to me the slightest.
I know all those people who make these decisions would consider it just fine for me just to grow old doing nothing, enjoying pleasures and spending time with family. I will not do that. If I can not achieve something, do something worthwhile *I* want to do - I will not stick around. I will have the dignity and autonomy of taking my life in my own hands and discarding it if I can never succeed.
So, you see, it is not so much pain as it is anger and weariness. Of course, at worst that sort of self-loathing is painful too. But I avoid dwelling on it so my family and friends don't notice. I pretend that I've recovered from my loss. I have attempted 24 years ago so they'll go ape if they even think I'm considering it.
I'm so sorry for all for you who really suffer. I don't really, in any other aspect. I have a lot of friends, loving family, physically healthy, lot of pleasures.
But all the same, I will rather die than be a loser who is rejected everywhere if I don't hide this secret. The diagnosis is worse than a criminal record. Criminals get second chances.
Anger. Self-loathing. Being so goddamned tired. Not willing to get my hopes up and fail YET AGAIN.