Suicidal Ideation vs. Being Suicidal: On the Edge

Suicidal ideation and being suicidal amy dodd pilkington

Suicidal ideation and being suicidal are considered the same thing by many. I don’t think they are. At least, for me it’s not the same. I am currently teetering on the edge of the fence and trying to stay safe and sane and project an image of stability.

It’s ridiculous that I can be so many things at once. It’s not possible, is it? I’m not really sure where I stand, and the minute I think I have a handle on things or have it figured out I am hit with something else. I am tired.

Why am I shying away from talking about suicidal thoughts?

I have said many times over the last couple of years that quality of life matters. In fact, I would argue that quality of life is the most important thing. Unfortunately, I haven’t felt like I have an acceptable quality of life for any length of time in far too long.

And I am still censoring myself for a number of reasons and this isn’t me. This isn’t who I am – carefully choosing my words and tip-toeing around the conversation. There was a degree of anonymity before as people who knew me in real life didn’t read my former blog. I didn’t worry about dealing with questioning and scrutiny and judgment in real life. Not once did I censor myself because I was afraid of being committed, but now I feel like I need to do just that.


Suicidal ideation and three little pills

I had a complete and total meltdown yesterday and things I had been hiding quite well came tumbling out even though I tried to stop myself. As much as I hate to admit it, there are parts of me I cannot change no matter how hard I work. I can mask it. I can keep it in check for a while, but those parts will always rise to the surface when I can’t handle things.

That’s what happened, and that realization and revelation of the truth caused a frenzied spiral right down to the deepest, darkest secret I had been hiding quite well: I am just three pills away from suicide at any given time. And I said it and that was something I didn’t want to say. I wanted to hold that secret in case. I wanted to have that secret option in case my quality of life continued to spiral, but it’s out now. That means the level of scrutiny I will have will make it impossible to go three days without a pill.

A strong coward survives suicidal ideation

And that’s suicidal ideation and a great deal of self-awareness. I know what my medication does. It gives me strength and makes me a coward. Yes. I meant what I said. It gives me the strength to fight and keep fighting, and when my strength is wavering it makes me a coward. Those pills make me too scared to attempt suicide.

That’s why I say I’m three pills away from suicide at any time. If I stopped taking them, I would gain courage. My mental illness is terminal without my medication. Always. Every time. Without medication, I always end up back in the same place.

I need solitude and support but can’t have both

How did I end up here? The minute I think I have a handle on my life and make peace with losses concerning quality of life, something else gets piled on top of the mountain of problems that degrades my quality of life. How much more must I lose? I said it yesterday. It should be my choice and mine alone on how much loss is enough for me.

I’m pushing myself away from everyone and everything and I am doing that because it gives me freedom. Solitude is the freedom to make my own choices. At the same time, I need to be able to purge what’s in my head but I don’t feel I have that option. Being alone and withdrawn means I hold it all inside my head until the dam bursts.

Why don’t I have that option? Judgment. Consequence. Losing independence.

Read more below.


♫ Take me to church

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

I’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife ♫

And what does that mean to me? Take me to church. Not a literal church. Go ahead and preach to me with senseless nonsense that is of no use to me and doesn’t help me in any way. Ask me what’s wrong and then sit in judgment when I tell you. Go ahead. Take me to church. Tell me how I’m wrong for having feelings and tell me you know better than me how to deal with it all and how I can fix myself.

Go right ahead. Take me to church, and I’ll be so desperate for a solution that I’ll believe you when you lead me down a path that is more harmful than helpful in healing. Let me tell you what I need. I’ll tell you what’s wrong and what I need to fix it. Then you can tell me I don’t while you watch me spiral so you have something to talk about. Sharpen your knife and plunge it right into my heart when you decide my suffering is your amusement. Go ahead. Use all my words against me.

♫ Offer me that deathless death

Good god, let me give you my life ♫

Go ahead. Tell me how you think I can rid myself of the parts of me that are broken and riddled with relentless mental health issues. Offer me up a solution to kill off the broken parts of me – a solution that only makes things worse. Let me give you my life.

Following useless advice and dealing with judgment has a high probability of ending in a bad way. Go ahead. Take me to church, and I’ll give you my life. I’ve been open about my faults and failures and shortcomings but this…this is one more thing. Sharpen your knife and judge me. The demons in my head speak louder with every plunge of the knife.

♫ I was born sick, but I love it.

Command me to be well. ♫

Go ahead. Tell me how to fix it. Take me to church and command me to be well and I’ll give you my life when you pass judgment. Because that’s what reaching out for help is. It’s an opportunity for people to tell me how I’m wrong for being sick while judging me. Go ahead. Take me to church. I’ll give you my life with the loss of three pills.

And I’ll tell you I am not suicidal. I’m heavy in the midst of suicidal ideation but still on this side of the fence. What cements me being suicidal? The minute I decide to skip that first pill. Go ahead. Take me to church. Push me over the edge. I have nothing left to give.

And not a single one of you is obligated to stick around and witness my downfall. Not a single person owes me a damned thing and is obligated to deal with my shit. Walk away so I can feel better about suffering alone rather than making people suffer with me. Go. And take your judgment anywhere else but here.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.