I have battled depression most of my life and contemplated suicide so many times that I lost interest in tracking those thoughts over 30 years ago. So what kept me from going through with it?
- Love? Not only do I not understand love, but I have neither love nor value for myself.
- Fear? My biggest fear is having it go wrong, survive the attempt, but be permanently damaged in a way that leaves me unable to care for myself, thereby becoming a bigger inconvenience to everyone.
- Guilt? Not really. I’d often tell others the guilt keeps me from doing it, but people who take suicide seriously feel more guilt sticking around and being a drag on everyone else. (At least from my experience)
No. The main reason has been curiosity. Nothing more. I’ve been curious my entire life about what tomorrow brings. If I chose to check out, I could miss something really cool or worse, I’d miss that break I’ve needed for so long.
As crazy as it might sound, I actually set out years ago to stop being curious about “tomorrow” so I could let go and move on. Curiosity was the one thing that continually held me back and that aggravated the hell out of me.
About 3 months ago, after yet more medical setbacks were discovered, I was relieved of my curiosity. I no longer cared what was next because it always seemed to not be favorable. To me, the future had neither shine nor luster. Matter of fact, it appeared to be pretty bleak, full of pain and limited movement. That’s not a life worth living. I’ve always believed in quality over quantity -which is where this trip came into play. The pain and constant struggle would be easier to deal with if I were out exploring the world and keeping my mind’s curiosities fed daily. I’d find entertainment and distraction everywhere I could. When the money and distraction were gone and only pain remained, I’d put myself down… Go out on a high… My way. It’s not cruel. It’s humane.
I was genuinely ok with this. I felt it was a logical choice not being made under duress. I wasn’t sobbing or showing signs of my usual depression. I sat down and had a rational conversation with myself over the course of about a week.
Have I changed my mind? Can’t say for sure. A reason to push forward is sort of what this trip is about. And before anyone asks about the people I’d hurt in doing such a thing, let me say that I believe it’s selfish for people to expect others to do, or not to do, things based on what makes everyone else happy. Our life is ours to do with as we wish. I’d rather live a short and happy life than drag myself through misery while becoming someone I’m not because of the pain or medication influence. I’ve seen too many good people become monsters because they lived in pain and misery. I’ve had enough of that while healthy. I don’t want to grow old lashing out at people because pain and/or disability has perverted my personality into something ugly and hateful.
Off The Rails 