Lists

[suicide]

I have so many bastard lists on the go at the moment as I try to get organised. My memory is hopeless just now so I am using lists for even the most basic things. Here’s a list from ten days ago that I am referring to frequently, for comfort, reassurance and to torture myself (impressive résumé for a list):

  • I feel guilty for the terrible things I have done which I can never fix or undo
  • I hate and despise myself; I am a terrible person
  • I have never achieved anything and I am intensely ashamed of that
  • I am a burden and I drag down my family and friends; I know for a fact that they will be better off when I am dead
  • I will never have someone to hug and hug me
  • I will never have someone to love and love me
  • I will never have someone to cuddle in bed with
  • I have feelings of intense loneliness which are very painful
  • I will never have someone I feel safe enough to have sex with
  • I am putting all the weight back on and everyone is laughing and looking down at me
  • I am ashamed that I can’t manage my eating
  • I hate my body and want to rip it apart and set it on fire
  • I am ashamed and horrified that I didn’t apply for the ordinary degree that I had credits for and so ruined even that faint hope for a future
  • It really hurts and I feel intensely ashamed every time I see someone talking about managing to be a doctor or medical student with a mental illness
  • I am a waste of the Earth’s resources; one less human is better for climate change
  • I am a waste of NHS resources
  • I am a waste of taxpayers’ resources
  • I am ashamed that I can’t manage my mental illness
  • I am ashamed that I so desperately want people to like me
  • I want to be free (though I don’t deserve that)
  • I want to be at peace (though I don’t deserve that)
  • I want to be finished and gone and in the past so that the harm I did can heal

It was hard to write but I felt better for it as my head felt clearer and emptied out. It is like cutting into raw, burnt skin when I expose this intense, overwhelming shame. If it wasn’t for the fact that I will be dead in a few days I wouldn’t be able to. I don’t know why I am publishing this. It eases something and makes these last days less painful, I think. I have no right to ask or hope for that of course. Also, it’s a kind of proof to myself. I would never, never, never talk about these things if I thought anyone I knew could even remotely possibly find out. There is always a possibility that you can be outed from an anonymous blog. But it doesn’t matter if you’re dead.

Photo of starling murmuration from the BBC. It has nothing to do with this post; it’s just beautiful.

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