When did you start hiding your sadness/suicidal intent, or stop being sad, about dying?

[ASp4E]

Or if you never were sad, or never showed any signs of suicidal ideation, how come?
Feel free to ignore my rambling below.

In my case, I started hiding any sadness or suicidal intent upon finding out what the consequences were if someone decided to take action. Involuntary commitment to a psychiatric ward, permanent loss of autonomy, being forced to undergo treatments with nasty side effects, and many more. That knowledge left me stunned and spiteful because on multiple occasions I almost admitted to considering suicide, and considered calling a hotline number. So close to having my life ruined. The revelation shifted my perspective on mental health support and advice, and on the meaning of "helping someone". They were no longer seen as out of the goodness of society's heart, but instead out of the implied desire to siphon you of any valuable work you can do, and keep you a slave to society for as long as possible. You didn't have true ownership of your own body, especially not the right to die.

Later on, any significant sadness towards suicide disappeared. In part as a result of the aforementioned revelation and deliberately suppressing some emotions, but also probably from learning more about life, and experiencing negatives like betrayal, manipulation, and injuries. My issues with life are fundamental to how it operates, and so either impossible or extremely difficult to correct. So that probably dampens any potential "hope" in life or sadness in death. If anything, progressing towards suicide is now usually exciting, unemotional, stressful if I'm not progressing much, or infuriating if I'm thinking about societal obstacles in place that are making things unusually difficult. Perhaps most importantly, the idea of finally achieving suicide feels amazingly bittersweet. A feeling of sadness from leaving behind the joys in life, that is completely overshadowed by the immense joy or relief from permanently escaping seemingly endless suffering.

I apologize about posting such a dumb (and likely unreliable) self-analysis here, feel free to let me know if I should avoid that kind of commentary.

 

[foreverfalling]

This is the place to share deeper thoughts about what can't be discussed openly, and to share experiences with like minded people. Without posts like these, how would I know there are other people out there with similar thoughts and views to me?

I've always been quite a close guarded person, never quite trusting anyone with my truest thoughts. Probably because of a history of it not ending well when I do. In high school, I'd joke about wanting to off myself, but it didn't seem like anyone would get me, or be able to honestly talk about it, or it would just feel useless talking about it. I had a friend with a scar on his wrist, who would also 'joke' about suicide. It also seemed like he was hiding behind a veil of jokes. Maybe he did have thoughts about killing himself too. But it could never seem to cross the line to honesty. Even if we were honest, what would we do about it?

I would describe it like living in 1984 book. Desperately looking around me for people with the same views, but even if we did, we couldn't talk about it. Both for fear of repercussions, as well as just plain not having the language to do so.

So up until now, I've told people how embarrassingly boring my life is, even my sexual frustrations. But I haven't talked about my suicidal thoughts with anyone. Because I knew deep down I was on my own in this, that no one can help me. Doing so is either pointless, or won't end well.

 

[Alexei_Kirillov]

I've had a similar experience; I was shocked into silence by experiencing the detrimental consequences of "reaching out," whether to a professional or to someone in my personal life. I discovered that the cost of speaking out was far higher than any possible benefit you could get out of it (which is usually negligible, if any). Professionals stick you in psych wards, people in your personal life get uncomfortable, scared, and distance themselves.

It doesn't matter anyway, because there is nothing to be done for me. There's no point in even trying to reach out because when I ask myself, "what could this person possibly say to help you?" the answer is always "nothing." I am beyond help because I've come to the same realization as you, that my problem is fundamental to human existence itself, not to any particulars about my own life.

Now I've also reached the stage where I've stopped viewing suicide as something tragic or sad. It's a question of when and how, not if. I plan it like how others might plan a vacation. Just biding my time until the date of departure comes along...

 

[bunnyhugs]

Feel the same as others here. Turns out telling people how you really feel puts you in situations (like involuntary hospitalization) that make things so much worse.

Society "punishes" serious suicidal thoughts; it ostracizes infantilizes the people who have those thoughts by treating us as "others" who can't be trusted. Then we feel more powerless, more suicidal. Vicious cycle. It's not fair.

 

[Lookingtoflyfree]

Grade school. I was wanting to not be here since grade school. I hid it because I knew it would cause so many problems.

I tried to be a good worker bee, good partner. Autism ruined everything. I did really try.

Now I don't have to 'hide' for much longer and I'm thrilled. I'll still 'mask' to prevent getting caught, but the SI won't need to be hidden because I'll be gone and I'll be ecstatically happy to not have to mask, not have to hide, not have to suffer. It will be glorious to actually be alive and not a broken shell of a beaten up, burned out ghost of a human. I will FINALLY have freedom. I can't wait!