When I feel like this I become obsessed with looking for people in the obituaries who have left this world by their own hands. I'm not sure why, but I look for the key words "Died Suddenly", or I look for requests for donations in lieu of flowers, to a mental health organizations. Sadly, I also look for, and find, obituaries for kids, or young adults; people who have died far to young for the death to have been natural.
I find, for me, the idea of death relieves my anxiety about my depression. When I am depressed thoughts of suicide, and my having the means to commit suicide, allow me to feel I am not completely choiceless. I am not completely without the means to take charge of and get rid of my depression. With death it would end.
With this in mind I hoard all my unused medications, pill bottles of everything I took, that didn't work, and even pill bottles of Tylenol 3's from medications my husband took for a while and did not finish. I hoard everything...just in case I need to go.
Twice now I have given up my stash to Dr. X. Each time it did not feel right. I felt I was left with no safety net. Dr. X has said my safety net (the pills) is unhealthy. Use the other safety nets available to me, him, the hospital, emergency mental health services etc.
To me, those safety nets are only available if you have the ability to use them. I have the ability to see him, but I would never take myself to the hospital, or call 911. I would die before doing that.
I would rather kill myself that face the dismissiveness of an emergency room physician, or a mental health worker other than Dr. X. Why? I would get to the hospital, talk with a doctor/nurse and the talking would LOOK as though it increased my mood, and they would send me home. I would be humiliated and feel rejected, and I would kill myself anyways.
I simply cannot face the rejection of someone who does not understand me. My mood always lifts when I am talking with others, partly because I put a mask on to protect them from me, and partly because I automatically want people to be comfortable with me. Also, I want to look like I am not completely insane. I want people to respect me.
Last night I kept thinking over and over of how I could leave this world without others knowing I committed suicide. I want out, but I can't think of a way out without leaving my family with the burden of a sister, daughter, or wife who has taken their own life. I stared at all the pills and kept thinking of how easy it would be to go in my sleep. Something keeps me here. Maybe my duty as a family member and friend, maybe I don't want to disappoint Dr. X. I have survived 7 years with these thoughts in my head. Maybe I really want to live?