MEMOIR OF THE SPLINTERED

ELEVEN

Recurring thoughts of suicidal behaviors or threats.

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"In the past thirty days, have you experienced any thoughts of suicide, thinking you were better off dead, or wishing you could go to sleep and never wake up?"

That question always makes me laugh. Sure, who doesn't? ...Right?

Every time I have a doctors appointment or I'm at the hospital, they ask that question. Which inevitably leads to filling out surveys, like the depression screening or the GAD-7. The hospitals will typically bring in a social worker to speak with me and make sure I don't actually plan on harming myself.

That's the part most people don't seem to understand. I have suicidal thoughts, but I'm not suicidal. There's a huge difference. Yes, I do wish I could go to sleep and not wake up. Yes, I cringe when I think about how long life is, and wish for it to be much shorter. But for the most part, I don't plan on taking my own life.

As my therapist suggested, I found things to live for. For starters, I have a daughter. I know it would mentally scar her to know that her parent took their life. Would she blame herself? After all, I didn't take my life until after she was born. Would she manifest that to mean she was the cause of my stress? God, I would absolutely hate that. Putting that kind of pain on my daughter feels worse than my own death. I would rather stay alive to make sure she doesn't experience that.

What else...? Oh, my writing. If I were to die, my stories would go untold. All the books I have planned in my mind would never get the chance to be read and enjoyed by others. Writing is one of the few activities that takes my mind off of what's going on around me, and allows me to escape for a few hours at a time.

That doesn't mean that I'm never suicidal. The last time I was worried that I would actually kill myself was when I came out to my family. They said I'm confused and mentally ill, and that they'll never accept me for who I am. My mind began to tear itself apart. What do I do? Do I force myself to live as a woman and experience crippling dysphoria for the rest of my life, or do I transition with the hopes of finding happiness, even though it means I could lose everyone around me? Both choices caused so much pain that I felt like I was seconds away from taking my life. Instead, I took one of my sleeping pills to force myself to calm down. My husband took the next day off work to make sure I was safe. Since then, my psychiatrist has prescribed stronger anxiety medication to help me.

It's hard — wanting to die but knowing I can't because it'll hurt too many people. And God knows how much I put other people's needs before my own.