You hear of those stories from people who attempted suicide and lived about how as soon as they say, jumped from a bridge they immediately regretted it and realized they didn't actually want to die. Some of these people went on to fully recover from their depression, others find it was merely instinct that made them feel that regret on the way down and they are just as depressed afterwards.
For a long time I wondered what would be going through my head if I ever found myself in a situation like this. My cope was always that I didn't really want suicide, and would regret it much like in the stories I have heard about.
A little while back I came down with a pretty bad virus, vomiting, diarrhea, headache, I mean it was fucking awful. So I'm laying in my bed feeling extremely nauseous and with my stomach telling me that nature was calling. I could start to feel tightness in my chest at this point as I rolled myself out of bed and to the bathroom. By the time I get there, only about 20 feet or so away from the bed I'm absolutely panting to catch my breath, my arms and legs feel extremely weak and I have pins and needles over my entire body. I hurriedly do my business, my breaths getting shorter by the second and then literally drag myself to my bedroom. My breaths kept getting shorter and shorter. My chest kept getting tighter, I legit started to properly panic at this point, I desperately stripped all of my clothes off while I was half on half off my bed, I continued to lose sensation in my body, and the tingling started making its was up to neck. I made a frantic phone call for an ambulance at this point. By the time I hung up I was taking a good 3-4 breaths a second. The tingling had reached my head. For those 6 or so minutes the ambulance made its way to me I hand on heart thought I was dying. And you know what? As I laid there contemplating my life, if there was an afterlife, if I would go to hell or heaven, would I cease to exist, how will my mother cope with this... the memory is foggy but I am almost certain I didn't even once beg for my life. I contemplated it for maybe a few seconds and instead begged God, if he was listening, to go easy on me.
The ambulance came, it turned out I was extremely weak with low blood sugar and had just experienced my first panic attack. Pathetic. I didn't know what this was at this point, from where I was I genuinely thought it was over for me.
So that's where I am now, I don't have the balls for suicide but I know now that I probably wouldn't feel much regret on the way out, if any.
It really is over.
For a long time I wondered what would be going through my head if I ever found myself in a situation like this. My cope was always that I didn't really want suicide, and would regret it much like in the stories I have heard about.
A little while back I came down with a pretty bad virus, vomiting, diarrhea, headache, I mean it was fucking awful. So I'm laying in my bed feeling extremely nauseous and with my stomach telling me that nature was calling. I could start to feel tightness in my chest at this point as I rolled myself out of bed and to the bathroom. By the time I get there, only about 20 feet or so away from the bed I'm absolutely panting to catch my breath, my arms and legs feel extremely weak and I have pins and needles over my entire body. I hurriedly do my business, my breaths getting shorter by the second and then literally drag myself to my bedroom. My breaths kept getting shorter and shorter. My chest kept getting tighter, I legit started to properly panic at this point, I desperately stripped all of my clothes off while I was half on half off my bed, I continued to lose sensation in my body, and the tingling started making its was up to neck. I made a frantic phone call for an ambulance at this point. By the time I hung up I was taking a good 3-4 breaths a second. The tingling had reached my head. For those 6 or so minutes the ambulance made its way to me I hand on heart thought I was dying. And you know what? As I laid there contemplating my life, if there was an afterlife, if I would go to hell or heaven, would I cease to exist, how will my mother cope with this... the memory is foggy but I am almost certain I didn't even once beg for my life. I contemplated it for maybe a few seconds and instead begged God, if he was listening, to go easy on me.
The ambulance came, it turned out I was extremely weak with low blood sugar and had just experienced my first panic attack. Pathetic. I didn't know what this was at this point, from where I was I genuinely thought it was over for me.
So that's where I am now, I don't have the balls for suicide but I know now that I probably wouldn't feel much regret on the way out, if any.
It really is over.
