When Death Seems Better Than Life

“Our life dreams the Utopia. Our death achieves the Ideal.” Victor Hugo

This article I will write will bring a lot of controversy to the table. If this happens, I am sorry to tell you that my intention was not doing that, but to express myself and get naked in my feelings, and the way I live everyday. I am not trying either to convince you to see my point of view, and I am not opening the door for you to give you and opportunity to convince me of my wrongness. Unless you have walked on my shoes, or you have lived with me intimately, then this article won’t try to peruse anybody.

Last week I was diagnosed with a psychological illness that made me understand in a better way my ups and downs of life. For the first time I was able to put together the so many lost pieces of the puzzle of my journey. I have been trying to cope with this for so many years, and I never understood why I felt the way I was feeling. I never understood why some days I was in the highest peak of my life, and other days I was as low as someone can be. To be totally honest with you my faith has not helped me at all, these emotional roller coasters have been part of me with or without faith, and they reflect everything I have done in my life through out the years.

To know and understand that there is something wrong with me, and it is not only my inability to cope with my emotional swings, is in a way a big relief, but it is also the realization that I will have to constantly fight against my own self to love the life I am living. To recognize I have clinical depression brings a lot of wrongfully stigma, and it will become another of the coming out events that I will do in my lifetime. Unless you understand, and you have educated yourself about depression and bipolar disorder, most people think it is a face in life, or just the fact that the person dealing with it does not know how to control their emotions.

I am going to share with you the rawness of my struggle, so may be you are able to understand a little bit of what I am going through every day. I do not want your pity, neither your best advices, I am just sharing my heart to you.

Every single morning, when I wake up, is a day that I celebrate I have made it, because every day at night I start to confabulate about the best way to end my life. Yes, exactly as you just read it, suicide thoughts have lived with me for many years, I breath them, and I try everyday to put in balance my life so I find a bigger weight that will convince me not to decided to end my life. Even though you will probably think that I am crazy with my next statement, sometimes I admire the guts and braveness of the people who have decided to kill themselves, and I wished I had that initiative myself.

Suicide thoughts are part of my life; I think about ways to kill myself, but then I worry about if people will discover my body. I have made plans about get lost in the forest on a winter night and die in the nature, or cut my wrists. I have planned on writing my last letters, and what I would say to my family and friends, I have day dreamed many times about the way I will leave. Death is part of my daily life. And is even harder to cope when I do not feel satisfied with the job I have, with the life I live, with the friends I have developed, with the loneliness I feel even though I am surrounded by wonderful people, and when I do not feel worthy to have a partner, because after 5 years of singleness I have not been able to have a long term relationship. So the fear of not having enough money to live, or to end my elderly life as a loner creates such uncertainty that death seems better than life.

“Me puedes decir misa” (you can read the whole mass liturgy) We have this expression in Mexico when people respond trying to convince you of your wrongness, you could read me the entire gospels if you want to, but unless you lived my life you wont understand what I am sharing with you this morning. Suicide seems as a selfish decision, or as a weakness because people were not able to get the enough strength to keep fighting; there are some that even describe it as cowardice. For me has always been my own personal decision, and sometimes it seems as a way to relieve the oppression of my soul.

I have even talked to a dear friend, that when the time of my departure comes he will be the one helping with all the arrangements, before, and after. With this I do not want to alarm you, but in the same we plan for our retirement, some of us also plan the day we must finish what we have started in the journey, not because we are giving up, but because we feel it is time to move to the next chapter of our life.

“The day of my birth, my death began its walk.
It is walking towards me, without hurrying”
–Jean Cocteau






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