The Beauty and Grotesque of a Common Life - Wednesday

Journey

from the suicide attempt survivor's journal:


Trigger. Yesterday, in therapy session, I managed to regress towards the point that changed my life one hundred and eighty degrees. Ground zero. When I tried to end it and where I managed to start something else instead. Near death. Life.  

Up until now, I was reluctant to even try to remember the day before I took that final step, some sort of anxiety combined with the feeling that I have lost something I will never have again, something very dear and valuable; lately, after disabling all the firewalls I put up in order to able to cope with the environment, it started to feel as if it never really happened to me, so I could try and open up about conditions and other issues that drove me to that point.

After waking up on the hospital bed, I could not remember anything. I remember things prior to my
falling into nothingness, such as filling up the tub with water and carefully slicing my right wrist with a straight razor I found at a flea market. I thought it was stylish and weird. Had it been an old rusty or dirty, greasy sharp cutting tool I would have passed for a nice shiny one. Why? I have no idea.
After slowly splicing my blood vessel under water with slow motions, starting from the wrist and carrying on to the back of my forearm, just like I read in some journal about different ways of taking my own life. The fact that I didn’t use a gun speaks for my secret hope that I would be found and revived, but I decided to leave that to fate.

The day I have taken to decision to end my life was the most beautiful day I have had up until then. Once I knew exactly what and how I would do, I felt a pure sense of liberation from all that connected me to this earth. It was as if I was able to look at me and the world and myself from the outside and see it for what it was. All anxiety was gone, my pain alleviated and I was completely free from anything and everything. There was no ‘must’, no ‘fear’ , no ‘pain’, there was only me enjoying my pure freedom. It was the best give I could ever give and receive at the same time. That moment of pure liberation was pure bliss and I knew that it wouldn’t last and it was conditioned by my ending it all.

Now, all that’s left is pure disappointment. I know for sure I would never experience that again unless I decided to take that step again; however, I decided I would try to replicate it in any way I can. I had tried before, unconsciously (insert 100 mph link), but that was something else, I mean the conscious motivation was different. Now, there’s a new approach to life, I think I’ll call it the life of a living dead, because I still need a compelling need to escape my pain, only this time, the pain is different and so am I: the grotesque, common human being trying to find to ultimate act of freedom, besides killing or suicide, another cliché in an ocean of clichés.

                                                                   "N'aie crainte, à présent tout est fini 
                                                                    Brise les chaînes de tes peurs mortelles 
                                                                    Pour à jamais en être libéré 
                                                                    Et retrouver la quiétude passée."


                                                                    Alcest – Souvenirs d’un autre monde

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