Had I killed myself in 2003, it would have been because I saw myself as bad, deserving punishment, in part; if I were to kill myself now it would be because I saw no other way out of a desperate situation.
Some may be shocked by this opening. I have been suicidal, and am now passionate about suicide and its victims. No one deserves it, and people have suicidal thoughts and impulses, and sometimes act on them. It needs spoken about to be understood. Taboos make the suicidal person more isolated.
It means my friend’s answer to suicidal thoughts- “it’s a permanent solution to a temporary problem”- suddenly makes sense. Before, I saw the problem as me, and so not temporary or changeable.
I am not suicidal. But, having seen that I have value having been convinced of my worthlessness, that thought about suicide illustrates best how great a change this is.
When I was 19 at a time of stress I realised I had two views of myself- as the centre of the Universe, of supreme importance and capability, and at the same time as completely worthless and of no account. Neither view was in touch with reality, and I realised that immediately, yet I was convinced of both and could not shake them.
In June 2008 I wrote over and over again in my diary, I am a human being. I am a human being. I am fearfully and wonderfully made and one of seven billion. Could I come to a position between those extremes?
I grew increasingly conscious that what I saw as worthless was more authentically me, and the route to health went through seeing that worthless creature and finding something to value in her.
And now I think I have.
I have managed to find myself acceptable.
I can value myself as a human being. I have gifts, and they have value. I have creativity and energy, and what they produce is worthwhile. As I walk through the world I do more good than harm.
This change affects how I see motivation. Shall I get up to go to the office? At 8am, I have no doubt that I will indeed get up at 8.30. But then 8.30 comes and I do not get up, and I curse myself as a worthless piece of sxxt, and wonder if something on my phone will give me a big enough dopamine hit to get me moving. It never does.
Then at 9.30, or so, I admit to myself I am not going to get up and go to the office, and think about how else I might spend my day.
Then I went into the office and realised how scared I was of it. I am there and something in me judges me and finds me worthless, the monster from which I can only fail to flee.
Part of my bind was the unconscious conviction that I should not be scared of anything so if I was I was a worthless, etc, because no one with any backbone could possibly be scared of that.
But no. I have value, and because of my experiences I have motivation problems, a conative disorder, or depression.
I had just about stopped beating myself up for not getting up. Cursing myself had been less and less effective. I am still kind of stuck seeking motivation from my phone, but perhaps taking time to centre down would be more effective.
Do I want to get up and go there, now?
Do I need to stay away?
I don’t know. I am reeling. And still. I value myself. It’s an improvement.