Suicidal Ideation

I prayed for death, but when God laughed, I settled for artistic expression.

I guess you can't always get what you want, and in my case, I had already committed to something greater. So I would have to learn patience and obedience. Our Maker is intolerant of disobedience—abhors it. Our Creator is also sadistic, and that never sat well with me.

Laughter again.

It laughs every time I remind it of its nature, of our nature.

I was going to die. I was certain of this now. As if the certainty of death wasn't for us all. But I felt as if it were going to come for me sooner than one would hope. Ravaged by dark thoughts meant to sink me and bury me alive. Or rather, was it my heart, too weak to breathe on its own as a baby and seemingly still one that beats too irregularly to ignore? Or rather, it was my mind.

I was not sure.

I was hoping it was the latter.

I had refused to get a formal diagnosis from my therapist, who said I should get on medication or be hospitalized. I thought about both now. I had almost committed myself once. I was so low. Too low. I thought I would sink into the ground, then the earth, and then straight to hell. That was how low I was.

I probably will not live long, I kept thinking.

As if the thought were new. But I had had this thought many times before, every year, so why should it alarm me now? I wasn't sure if my mental health was just playing tricks on me or if I should actually be worried.

Oddly enough, I was relieved.

Life had been weird. That is the word I would use. It wasn't hard—or at least not much harder than anyone else's. In fact, I would say I got the better roll of the dice, besides the mom dying thing, no dad, being Black in America, and the mental health stuff. I still had a good life.

I just couldn't wade through the ocean anymore.

It was starting to drown me the older I got and the more I tried to ignore it.

I'm crying now because it seems unfair to me that the mind would be so unforgiving. So harmful and destructive to its own host.

I would have to get on meds.

But I knew I wouldn't.

I read they messed you up, and I didn't want any more problems.

I could just die, I thought.

It would upset a few people, but they would get over it. Most people eventually get over the death of a loved one.

I hadn't made any really close connections. No one I talked to regularly or saw every day. No one whose daily life would truly be interrupted if I were gone. I had no children or husband, and despite my tax guy's comment that my life would be better if I had those things, I was beginning to be grateful that I didn't.

I couldn't struggle with this so much and have a family.

Or maybe the distraction of a family would help.

I wasn't sure.

And I wasn't in a hurry to find out.

I thought about calling to get back into therapy and decided to go to the gym instead.

I had made it this far.

I wondered how far I could go without the meds or help.

I'm sure mothers felt that way too, and then took their own lives.

That made me sad.

I wished they hadn't.

I wished—I don't know—that they had told themselves, maybe a little bit longer.

I can last a little bit longer.

But maybe what they did was brave.

And maybe my lack of "guts," for a coward I am, for the most part, has kept me alive.

No one believes me when I say I am a coward.

Cowards don't climb mountains, do stand-up, or go after their dreams.

I think there are two types of cowards.

The coward who plays it safe and goes with the flow.

And the Cowardly Lion.

That's me.

The one who does the things anyway as her lip quivers. Whose fear of God's wrath keeps her on this side of the spiritual line.

I was alive because of my fear.

My fear of hell, which I didn't believe in.

But lately I was smart enough not to bet on the odds.

And the fear of the unknown.

I didn't know for certain what came after all of this. Would there be oblivion? Or another round of human torture? Doing this all over again, only in a worse situation because I ended my sentence early?

I think maybe one day my fear will dissolve.

Hell will not matter.

I will risk it.

I will say, I'm done.

This hell I can do no more.

We shall see.

Or maybe I'll get on the meds.

I decided to meditate and put it off for another day.