I Considered Suicide...

Today, I told my long-term boyfriend that I want to kill myself. It isn't the first time I've felt it. It isn't the first time I've told him.

He didn't react well. I didn't get a cuddle, or words of encouragement. He was mad. He felt like he was just a barrier. He felt like he was just in the way of something that I really wanted to do.

He's not.

He's the reason I breathe.

If you'd asked me a year ago if I'd ever been in love, I'd have said, "Yes, of course!" The reality is, I may have loved a guy at some time or another, but I'd not been in love. Not the way I define it. I realised being in love is when you love someone, and they love you right back. The feelings are mirrored. The feelings match, they compliment each other. It's not enough to tell each other you love them. Being in love is feeling loved by your significant other. I have that now.

So I told him, "I want to kill myself." Why did I tell him that? Well because I needed help. I didn't want the help of some stranger who didn't know me, on the other end of the phone. I didn't want to have to tell that stranger about my money troubles and all my history. My boyfriend already knows. He knows everything about me and my history. He knows why I am the way I am, he just doesn't know how to make it better.

Every time we talk about my depression, I remind him I may not ever get better. I could be like this until the day I die (which incidentally could be sooner rather than later). He holds out hope. It's adorable. He thinks when we have sorted out the money situation, everything will get better and I'll come out of this rut. I might. This may be circumstantial, but I've been depressed fairly consistently for roughly 11 years (officially diagnosed 8 years) and I've only ever felt temporary periods of relief, where things go okay, but then there's something new to worry about or get upset over.

The only thing that I know that has changed since I was first diagnosed. My stance on suicide. Now, I do definitely still think it's selfish, and people should talk about it, I also know that opening that conversation is hard. When your mind is telling you that you're not good enough, or that you can't get better, and that your life will be crumbling away from you until your decrepit and old, well... they are powerful thoughts. The moment you realise you are having harmful thoughts, and you think about acting on them, I think you're so much less likely to talk to someone. It's not because you don't want to be alive, it's not because you don't want to figure it out live happily ever after. It's because you don't want to bother anyone. You think you're a problem, a burden. You think people don't wanna hear it, especially if you've told them before. You'll think people are judging you, or that they will tell you to do it.

They won't.

The chances are, the people you tell, whether they are mental health professionals, or friends or family. They will want to help. They will want to make you better. They will want to show you how much you brighten up their lives and they will try their hardest to convince you that everything will be okay.

It will.

Everything will be okay. Things might not go to plan. Jesus, your life might still crumble from under you, but you have people who love you, you have your health (albeit maybe not your mental health, but in my experience, all the best people are a bit unhinged!)

The chances are, if you're talking to friends and family about harmful thoughts, they're gonna feel uncomfortable. You have to understand that you're telling them that you don't see the value in your life (even if you do, but you still feel harming yourself is a better option). They may feel like you don't value them. The truth is though, you're probably telling them because you value them. In fact, I can guarantee you're telling them because you trust them, and because you want help.

I told my long-term boyfriend that I wanted to kill myself, today. He didn't react how I wanted him to. He was at work and I was at home. We were texting. Probably not the best scenario, but we'd been arguing since the night before, and it had all gotten out of hand. Please do not misinterpret what I'm saying. I didn't threaten to kill myself because I'd argued with my boyfriend. There are a lot of deep seated financial issues going on right now which I don't feel like I can cope with sorting, that's the root of my current problem, and my boyfriend arguing with me, well that just made me feel like the one person I live and breathe for didn't want me. It pushed me over the edge and I got low.

I was bad. Last night I researched different ways to do it. I'm too chicken, I couldn't do it. He reacted how he felt was best. I can't argue with that.

I spoke to another friend, she was supportive, she said all the things my boyfriend used to say, but hearing it from a new voice was maybe a little more comforting. I know that dealing with my depression on a daily basis is exhausting for me, but for him? It's frustrating, exhausting, and so many other feelings he hasn't shared with me. He's trying to shield me from hurtful things, whilst trying to treat me like an adult and give me all of the information, and also treating me like his girlfriend, and being real with me, telling me the truth even if I don't want to hear it.

I've called him all the names under the sun. The one that triggers him? Cunt. He hates being called a cunt. But sometimes he deserves it. Sometimes he says things that are hurtful, and he doesn't say them because he enjoys hurting me. He says them because I need to hear them, because there's parts of me and my behaviour that even with depression are not acceptable, and I need to try and work on them.

Maybe my depression has turned me into a spoilt brat. Maybe I've read that many sob stories about depression and mental illness that I assume that everyone should be delicate with me. My boyfriend treats me no different to a girlfriend without mental illness. I didn't see that before today.

By the way, as I'm writing this, I'm not suicidal. I opened up to my boyfriend, and eventually we got to talk about it. I told him what I need, he told me why he was confused and upset, and we will probably go over all of this again in a week or so's time.

I'm the luckiest and unluckiest girl alive. I just wish I could give him all of me. (I'm crying again, I'm off to sleep!)