If I had one purpose in life, it would be to communicate myself as clearly as fucking possible to others. Unfortunately, we can never know what’s exactly in each other’s minds, but I’ve always tried to break that barrier by communicating in such a way that people did know what I was thinking. It was important to me that they not only knew what I thought but also how I thought and even what those thoughts feel like.
I always loved that transference. For example, that’s why I love metaphors. It provides clarity to identify hidden similarities between two ideas so people can understand.
So all my writing, no matter how brash or oversharing it is, is an effort to demonstrate who I am, what I’m thinking, how I’m like. So you could always read them all without having ever met me and get good sense of who I am (hint: an enigma). Think of it like a vanilla extract. Each lil blog post I write is just a lil dash of Ellis extract.
Today’s sprinkle or more like heaping cupful of Ellis extract is learning about what it’s like to want to die.
And it all started with a car chat:
Diego: “What are some things you want to do? Might as well do em now, you literally have nothing to lose.”
Me: “I don’t know. Maybe I could blog more? Hell, I could even just write about wanting to die.”
Diego: “Yeah, I mean go for it. You can do that.”
So welcome to my fucking Tedtalk, kids. Here are all the nuances of wanting to die.
***TRIGGER WARNING: if you at all feel uncomfortable with this subject or feel as though you will not be able to handle the weight of this information, I love you and you absolutely do not need to read this. In fact if you even just wanna talk :) I’m always available.***
Before I get into the real meat of what I’m going to say, I’m really quickly going to define my terms. Most times, I call being “suicidal”, “a small will to live.” Moreover, I use terms like “leave” rather than “die” or “here” meaning being alive. These are euphemisms I like, the og ones sound way too harsh and I feel these words communicate myself better.
Now the background:
Right so, I have had a small will to live since I was young. I’m talking young young. For seemingly no reason at all, and not all the time! (usually around PMS times) But I was raised super religious so I never actually tried to leave. I went to a Christian private school my entire life — pre-K to high school graduation. And when I was like in middle school, I would intentionally breathe deeply whenever my dad smoked. I mean they say “Smoking Kills”, so I thought this would put me on a faster track. I would pray that if God really loved me than he’d let me die young. In high school, I cried after my SAT because I never thought I’d live that long. My first year in college, I congratulated myself with a tattoo meaning rise above, to celebrate overcoming circumstances and making it that far in life.
You can see that my small will to live is not really circumstantial. I’ve kind of always felt this way. And I think a big part of the reason I wasn’t your textbook definition of suicidal when I was in high school and younger was because I was religious. I was terrified of going to hell and couldn’t seem to find helpful information on the internet to tell me if killing yourself meant you rot in flames for eternity so I never did anything, just thought about it. I truly believed one day God would make it so I wouldn’t feel this way anymore.
Fast forward to my second year of college, I wasn’t religious anymore and the barrier between me and dying got smaller. I still felt fear, like, “Oh god, what if God is real and I do rot in hell forever??” But essentially, I continued to feel like how I’d always felt except this time I wasn’t afraid of dying so much. Not being afraid of dying is one of the healthiest things I believe you can be, however, I’m a tip toey mixture of “not being afraid to die + having a small will to live”, lol so you can see where that conundrum comes about.
Anyway, luckily (or unluckily, whatever , your point of view), my second year fell right around the Xanax craze. So it was easy peasy getting access to Xanax and I kept that mf thang on me. In a lil tin under my mattress, I felt safe having it. As a doctor from Belgium, where euthanasia is open to everyone who wants it, would say, “The fact that there’s an emergency brake for when it all gets too much helps people carry on.”
I was going to keep living, wanting to stay here, but just having the Xanax and knowing it was an option made me feel at peace.
As I got progressively more comfortable around the idea of dying and farther away from big scary Jesus smiting me for wanting to die, I started experimenting with Xanax. And I don’t mean experimenting as in being a barhead or Lil Xan, I mean experimenting on figuring out a lethal dosage. I lowkey been doing that so I guess that brings us to now.
*to make people more comfy i would like to say that i have since gotten rid of my xanax and have no connections or ability to get more*
Being Knowledgeable
Because I’m a logical person and like knowing how everything will be and how everything will go, I know a probably morbid amount of information regarding suicide. I find comfort in being informed. I am probably one of the most educated people you know on the many ways to do it and which ways are the most successful and least successful. For example, I know that if you fall from a bridge 200ft in height, you will fall at a rate of 70mph and likely die somewhere around impact or after. I know that 200ft bridge has around 2% survival rate and that falling from 150ft or lower runs you the risk of waking up the next day a vegetable. Morbid stuff like that. I know pretty much all of it because it made me feel more secure knowing all of it.
Which is why I chose to focus my energy on Xanax, it was what I thought to be the most successful and least painful way to go. Moreover, understanding the neurochemistry between depressants and their interactions, kind of made me more comfortable with the idea as well.
Now, with all this knowledge (and experience), I can comfortably say:
It is very hard to die in this simulation.
When you don’t want to die, it’s very easy to see that life is fragile and we can be gone at any minute. When you’re on the flip side of that and you want to die, you can see that it’s VERY FUCKING HARD TO DIE.
Trust me. It’s somehow like damn near impossible. Maybe it’s easier if you’re not knowledgeable and think that hanging is a cool way to go or you’re not aware of the survival rates and risks of certain methods, but if you’re somewhat educated on the subject, you’ll know it’s hard to intentionally go. Like they make it real hard to die, so many things, dude, like laws and regulations from designs of bridges to formulas of sleeping pills to gas mixtures in helium tanks.
So if you want to take some heart warming message from this, it’s that yay life is powerful? You can’t die even if you tried? Even life will tell you/force you to keep on keepin’ on?
And let me say, that just because I know this stuff, doesn’t mean that I will do any of them. Like again taking the bridge into example, I don’t like any morbid methods of dying and I don’t think it’s fair to bring more bystanders than necessary into anything. Just because you know something like how to make meth because you learned after binge watching Breaking Bad, doesn’t mean you’re gunna go out and make meth. It just means you know how to make meth.
Now, the title comes in, What it feels like:
Many people will tell me, “I don’t know what it feels like to feel suicidal but I promise it gets better. Life is so good.” or they will try to shove down positive cliches and mantras to try to increase your will to live. People who have never felt this way also have cliched ideas of life and death. And in order to clarify like I said and to give people inference into different experiences, I’m opening up about what it feels like.
It feels like hopelessness.
Shut up — I can already hear all the people saying “But there’s so much to live for!” “You’re such a bright girl with so much to live for!” “What’s wrong? What’s goin on?”
I didn’t say I was unhappy. I didn’t say I didn’t have tons to live for.
I said — it feels like hopelessness.
I love life. I think the hand I was dealt is a smokin hot one including all the difficult times. I love my friends. I love my college. I love my animals. I love my family. I love my job. I love my field. I love all my experiences. I love love love everything.
But some nights, no, many nights, I feel hopelessness. What about?
Well, I feel like I will always feel like wanting to leave and that it will never get better. “No one can save me from myself” type of hopelessness. No one can live my life for me or keep me alive. That I will continue to feel the loneliness of wanting to leave all the time.
Why does it feel lonely?
Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know how many people are comfortable with someone saying, “hey bud, good ole pal, I wanna die.” People, understandably, panic, feel uncomfortable, or burdened by the statement. It’s not a normal thing to want, you see. So in order to not burden people, I keep it to myself. Keeping things to yourself can feel lonely.
But what does this feeling feel like?
Imagine an angel shows up in your room.
Shut up, I don’t care if you’re religious or not, in fact it’s even better if you’re not because imagine how much you’d shit your pants if an angel popped into your room. I bet you’d be scared as shit of God in that moment. Anyway, an angel is in your room and tells you, “I can tell you with certainty, that you will from now on always feel like ants are crawling all over you. From now until the day you die, you will feel like ants are crawling all you.” And then *poof* the angel disappears.
And guess what motherfucker, you feel like ants are crawling aaaaaalll over you. There are not any actual ants but you can feel them. You start freaking out. You think to yourself, surely that angel is just kidding. I can’t feel like this forever. But days pass, eventually weeks, this feeling is invading your productivity and relationships, because you can’t focus on anything, ants are crawling all over you.
You go to the doctors and they say nothings wrong with you. It’s been years and now you think the angel wasn’t playing any games. You really will feel like this forever. But you can’t live like this anymore. What can you do? You feel hopeless. Knowing that this feeling will never stop. You feel lonely, how is anyone going to believe a rando angel popped in your room and said “hey bud lemme just tell you that you’re going to feel like your body is being invaded by ants forever.” They’re gunna think you’re psycho. You just want it to all stop. But you know it won’t.
TADA! It’s much like that! Wow, I’m lowkey proud of myself for this analogy. How would y’all feel in this scenario? I’m genuinely curious.
For me, I obviously keep on going because I’m still here and I’m making my best effort to be here. Sometimes there are fuck ups where it all builds up and I end up in the hospital and stuff but all in all I’m trying my bestest. I try different things to make the “ants”/”feelings of wanting to leave” go away, like journaling, going to the psychiatrist, going to inpatient, trying prozac, trying birth control, starting therapy, etc etc etc. And I utilize what I call anchors — things that will help me stay here for longer and longer. Like having work tomorrow, having a concert in a month, a vacation in two months, etc, things, responsibilites, or events I’m excited for that I don’t want to miss.
To you beautiful people,
From a realistic and analytical person to y’all let me tell you some things. You can say life is precious. I agree, life is something to be in awe of and extremely grateful for. But I can also say I respect people’s autonomy and volition over their own lives. I think that too should be taken into consideration. (please watch videos of people getting euthanasia in Europe, there’s even a Vice documentary on youtube)
You may think I think lightly of death. I do. Listen bud, even if you don’t want to die, dying is inevitable. I guess I’m really acceptant of that and I’m not scared of “where I’m going” or having any regrets. Moreover, I don’t like and have never understood the stigma and the kind of weirdness around talking about death. I’ve just always kind of been very casual about the concept.
You can say “Oh my gosh this is horrible. You need to realize how amazing life is and not think so negatively! You shouldn’t want to kill yourself!! You’re just depressed.” “You know all the people that jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived regretted it after!! They realized all their problems were trivial and could be solved”
Huh… I can’t say I know that regretful feeling?
So I say loudly and proudly, IT’S A FEELING. I feel like leaving. THERE IS NO CAUSE BESIDES I OFTEN FEEL THIS FEELING OF WANTING TO LEAVE. Like feeling hungry, I don’t eat and then regret I satiated my hunger.
And it is not like that for most people, I know. Most people have struggles they’re facing that they believe will never end, like problems at work or school or with personal relationships. My life is amazing, I just feel like this :)
In conclusion,
Please don’t be weird, let’s all be chill. You made it this deep in what could be perceived as a depressing post. (But I’m pretty happy writing this lol it’s not hard for me)
I don’t want to be treated any different from how I been treated. I’m still Ellis! Bold Ellis! The same happy go lucky loud bigass girl :) No need to try to ever dance around this topic or hesitate saying kms lmao
And I’m still here! and I’m proud to be! I’m making it to my 21st bitches. Imma do it. And Imma fill my room with a shit ton of helium balloons to celebrate. Y’all should all get balloons too. Whew boy is it an effort keepin me here.
Here’s even my google drive of photos of everyday till I’m 21:
https://drive.google.com/drive/u/0/folders/1YEsubG3pTA_q6EGlZjOeTup_uNP-U2pi
I just wanted to share because —
- this is a big part of what I struggle with and something I keep to myself and am very uncomfortable sharing which, to me, means I need to put it out there and challenge myself and my ideas.
- I want to defy pre-existing notions of suicidal people and depression and crazy. If someone told me they were tryna leave all the time and checked into mental hospitals, I’d think they’re crazy. Psycho depressed even. A red flag to stay away from. But what does crazy even mean? Like hey sure, I’m positive the way I feel is def not common, but I definitely don’t perceive myself as crazy or depressed and I’m sure most of you don’t either (if you do that’s fine ;) love ya boo). I’m more than just my problems (of which I mostly keep to myself) and I want to live my life in such a way that I can communicate to a lot of people.
- I’m working doubly as hard now to work on being here and I guess part of that accountability is writing this. It’s communicating with y’all how I feel. Maybe that’ll more steps closer to taking the loneliness factor out of it!
I may have a small will to live, but it’s still a will to live! On the low, of course I’m still cool with dying, but right now, the focus is being here. WOO!
So if you made it all the way to the end, and you feel like you learned something today,
Thank you for coming to my Tedtalk. I’ll be here for questions.
Love,
Bold Ellis
