Trigger: Suicidal Ideation and sad stories

No way. I am afraid to die actually. I feel like I am running from suicide like it is a monster chasing me. I have often said it feels like I am a rat in a maze without any exits except for that one. That rat is in panic.

When I was in my twenties I really thought I wanted to die. I thought about suicide often and life seemed pointless. What stopped me from planning (usually) was imagining my loved ones finding me and their despair at not having been given the chance to 'save me'... finally, of course at the lowest of lows you can convince yourself that no one wants to save you. That is a dark place, one that I never visit anymore thankfully.

The day I realized I did not want to die was when my husband perforated his bowel and was in ICU, unable to breath on his own and being monitored after a life saving surgery. There was a high possibility that he would not make it depending upon complications. My parents came down and stayed with me a couple of days during the danger period. I remember thinking this is it, there will be no reason for me to go on after this. But then my Mother told me that they were there for me and I suddenly found myself thinking: I could go on. I told her to take me home with them if Johnny didn't make it. She promised she would.

You know that saying about whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger - that period of my life is why I think that line is a load of crap. I cannot imagine having to go through all of it again. Anyway, my husband is alive today and I did make it through that time.

Anyway, looking back when I decided I wanted to live, I realize now that my fantasies of suicide were allayed by the idea of going home and being taken care of, which is extremely borderline. I felt like if I could just have that time to recover I could make it. I didn't want to die, I just didn't want to live in pain. I think the world is full of so much pain for us that even norms can easily want to give up. For a borderline, giving up often equates to suicide unfortunately.

That being said, I often do face the idea of terminal illness, or a plane crash with the equanimity that another person might not. Running from that monster is tiring at times, and not always very rewarding.

edit - Unless I am having a very full and distracting day, I think about suicide pretty much routinely. Even though I want to live, there is that part of me that really wants to give up.