Monday, 10 October 2016

After he dies, well, then it's everybody's party


Picture: Najimir

I awake after another panic dream. Sweat patches soak up my pillow and I start to cry softly. Softly as in not a painful scream as I usually cry from the amounts of pain I am in. My head is full of images I wish I could put a stop to. Death enters my mind again and I start to become too much in my own mind. 

I have been thinking about death a lot lately. I think the first trigger was when I lost my grandma and then a dear friend passed a few weeks after that. When you have a suicidal mind, you ponder your own death a lot. You think of the people who genuinely care, then your thoughts are shifted to the people who would 'pretend' to care when it is too late. The cowardly and ignorant people you had let in to your life. The ones who will claim how close you were when they find out about the tragic passing. The ones who will eventually realise suicidal thoughts aren't just there for manipulation and for attention. 

When you are suicidal, you have to fight urges of harming yourself nearly every day of your life. Some days the thought will be in the back of your mind, just sitting there on a shelf until you decide to bring it down to the bench and pay attention to it. Its always in your mind because you may have had an argument with a friend and a constant wave of guilt comes crashing down. You feel guilty for being mentally impaired. You break up with someone and they move on. Because you felt a lot more, you spend days, weeks and months trying to sort through all the emotions you felt during the time of hurt. You are constantly grieving but wondering how they would grieve if you did lose your life to your illness? I mean I have to battle with not losing my life every single day. I wonder what it feels like not having to check yourself every minute, every hour of the day like I do. 

I lost three of the most important people in my life due to them not understanding why I felt this way constantly. They thought I was just aimlessly crying wolf all the time. While they go about their daily duties of work, social life and what ever else they do in their lives, I was obsessively thinking about my funeral. Who would attend? Who would cry? Who would speak illy of me when I lost my life? Who would live in regret? Who would care? Who would be destroyed by my death? Who would wish they could of been better to me? Love me like I loved them?

I still to this day picture them at my service. I think one of them is so detached from me that she wouldn't come to pay her respects. That she would place my death in the 'too hard' basket. That she will sink into this harrowing guilt and despair when she could easily fix the problem caused between us. But people hold onto their pride too much. People are that selfish that they would rather later down the track self reflect when its too late. They will realise how good I was to them and how much I do care about them. Or maybe its not that way at all. Maybe they wont care I am not around. They will live life like I never existed. 

This is how my mind works on a regular basis. I think when your ideation is that strong its normal for me to think and feel this way. I know what people are thinking- if its that bad why aren't you in hospital? Why aren't you doing more about it? If people don't know, Borderline patients are only allowed in hospital 72 hours. So even if the ideation is that bad they will be released even though the doctor is well aware about how heightened their ideation/self harm is. But a self harming episode and attempt aren't taken seriously sometimes due to the stigma around Borderline. Because they cannot see the amount of despair and pain we are in, they think you have to adjust to fit into the environment you are in. So its our fault we can't function in the environment we are attached to. 

So I picture the people who have made fun of my illness at my funeral, sitting there in disbelief that it has finally happened. I see my close friends who loved me for me, absolutely ruined and devastated. But then I see the shallow people. The people who only care when my suicide becomes 'successful'. I don't want them there. I don't want them caring when I am dead. 



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