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The Everlasting Winter (Part 1)

Updated: Nov 12, 2019


Peace was non-existent, not even in sleep. My dreams were chaotic, frantic and filled with anxiety. So much so, that I would eventually need dental work due to clenching my teeth so tightly while I slept. As morning arrived once more, I laid awake and counted down the minutes until my alarm signaled another day of unfulfilling work. Some days, I sat alone in the forest and wondered what would happen if I didn’t return to my work truck at the end of the day. What if I just kept walking and never turned back? Eventually, I’d become another casualty of the wilderness and my suffering would be over, or so I assumed. As much as this seemed like an easy way out, minus the starvation, and inevitable bear, cougar or wolf attack, I couldn’t take those steps. I thought of my family. I saw my nephews faces, and my sister having to explain to them what happened to their uncle when they got older. When the ink-black tentacles of my destructive thinking slithered into my skull and choked my brain, my suicidal thoughts were piercing and ominous, like ambulance sirens. My tensile strength was tested on a semi-regular basis because the thoughts were always hiding in the shadows or ducking in the weeds. I could try my best to blend into a densely populated and well-lit street full of instant-gratifiers and shiny distractions, but the thoughts would always be in eyesight. Fear kept me from leaving my house. I prophesied all possible scenarios and envisioned a trigger for each one. So, as long as I stayed home, avoided interaction and kept myself distracted, I thought I could survive. My only respite was to give in, just a little, to the powers that wanted me to give up. This was accomplished by staying in bed, showering 3 to 5 times a day, unhealthy eating habits, or abusing TV and social media to keep my dark thoughts at a safe distance. Soon, these thoughts became comfortable and their piercing scream became a muffled cry, like they came from a distant room. I could hear them, but I could block them out if I tried hard enough. From here forward, the thoughts were always there but they didn’t carry the same sting that they once had. When things weren’t going my way and the pressure became too much, that voice would momentarily squeeze through and advise me,

“Just kill yourself. Then you don’t have to suffer anymore.”

It seemed so lazy to me. Even my suicidal thoughts didn’t have the energy to succeed. Regardless of the intensity of my dark thoughts, there was something seriously wrong with my brain.


At a global scale, suicide rates continue to climb along with diagnoses of mental illnesses. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), In the U.S., approximately 90% of the people who commit suicide each year showed signs of a mental illness. This is determined by conducting interviews with family, friends and medical professionals, also known as a psychological autopsy. Globally, about 800,000 people die from suicide each year. This was the second leading cause of death in 2016. The seldom talked about topic of suicide needs to be brought into the forefront to help the people who are too ashamed to talk about the fact that they’ve reached a serious juncture in their lives and no longer wish to carry forward. Suicidal thoughts and attempts are at two different levels but require the same attention. If you or someone you know has had suicidal thoughts, they should be immediately addressed.


Typically, when society thinks about suicide, we tend to see it from two different approaches. The first, and often most common, is the idea that people who commit suicide are cowardly, selfish and weak. Now, it’s difficult for me to believe the opposite and say that purposely removing one’s self from the realm of the living is a brave, selfless or strong act, but being front and center to a suicidal episode isn’t for the meek or faint-hearted either. As with most differences in opinion, perspective plays an important role in how one sees suicide, and naturally, conflicting debate often ensues between the people who have experienced suicidal thoughts or actions, and those who have only seen it from the outside. From my point of view and experience, the thought of suicide felt like less of a personal decision and more of an impending inevitability. Like a parasite, my mental illness would take a little piece of me each day until there was nothing left to take. In the end, my infected brain would be alien and unrecognizable, nothing more than a counterfeit of its once healthy form. Soon, any decision to terminate would no longer be a self-destructive act because I would cease to be “my-self.”


So, you wanna kill yourself? I get it. You feel alone, like there’s no one in this world who understands you or what you’re going through. Or, you’re too ashamed to talk to anybody because they’ll judge you as different or weak. Maybe you feel like too much of a burden. These foreign thoughts have drilled their way into your brain like beetle larvae through soft wood. Like any intruder, these thoughts are unwanted and frightening. They’ve caught you off guard and unprepared. Your anxiety and depression have assured you that you have nothing to live for by beating you into a sad pulp each day. And when your perforated brain can no longer handle the daily onslaught of self-aimed insults and deleterious affirmations, shit gets real serious, real fast. Your mental captors have led you to believe your own lies. You actually see yourself as worthless, stupid, and weak. So, what do you do?


Talk. Talk to someone you trust. Or, tell a random stranger at the park. Shit, confide in a stray dog if you have to. Just get it the fuck out. Sometimes, all it takes is to audibly hear what’s going on in your head. We have thousands upon thousands of thoughts passing through our minds each day and your internalized problems are being drowned out and muffled by these endless, and often pointless, thoughts. When you speak about what’s bothering you, it gets full attention. You’ll start to find that answers begin to formulate, even if you’re just talking to yourself out loud. That’s all you need to do to take your first baby step into repairing your mental health and quality of life. The point is, keeping these secrets to yourself has gotten you nowhere. I know it’s not easy. You think that there’s no possible way anybody else could comprehend the feelings you’re having, and that you’ve exhausted every possible way to fix your problems. Or, you’re worried about judgments and opinions. Well, guess what? You’re wrong, and fuck, it should feel good.


Your unwillingness to verbalize your suicidal thoughts is one of many survival tactics for your ego. It doesn’t want the world to know that you’re in a vulnerable state, so it overcompensates by keeping you quiet. Your ego gives you a mask to wear to hide your fear and pain from others because it would rather pretend that it’s strong rather than actually put the work in. I always pictured the ego as this bull-headed, powerful and selfish entity. It made men act tough and showed women how to be independent. In reality, the ego is a weak bitch. It’s the short guy with the Napoleon Complex. Loud voice, all talk, no action. Meanwhile, your ego cowers in the corner, piss soaked and shaking like an abused puppy. So far, your ego has done nothing but perpetuate your mental illness by persuading you to cover up and hide. Get that shit out. You’ll be surprised and extremely relieved at what you find when you gain the courage to talk about your problems. There are thousands of people out there who have shared your same experiences and struggles, and who are more than willing to lend a hand. Be brave.


Suicide is one of the more serious things that I’ll write about and I want to make sure that any readers will see where I’m coming from, and the importance of speaking to somebody about their problems. So, I’m breaking this topic into two separate blog posts because I know that we’re all products of technology and our attention spans are shorter than T-Rex arms. Stay tuned for the conclusion, the ending, the finale, or the curtain call of this suicide talk.

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