You can always kill yourself later.

 

I wrote the following piece April 2016. Thank you to David Allen for helping me out through all types of disastrous brought on my negative view of the world.

Death is the solution to living. If you didn’t know, you have a problem. Living is a framework for problems. First there is survival. You must complete all your basic tasks to collect food, water, and shelter. Rinse and repeat As a result of you attempting to survive in a world where others are trying to maintain. Two you are inevitably going to hurt other people during the course of your life, so imagine the amount of guilt you’ll have by the time you can’t do anything but sit in a hospital bed and think about it. Three people are going to hurt you and your life will be marked by suffering and other struggles. This all ends when you die.

If you haven’t guessed by now, I struggle with suicide. Not just being subdued by depression and thinking about killing myself, struggle with suicide. More like load up a gun and take shots of whiskey until you drink yourself into pulling the trigger, struggle with suicide. It’s hard to believe in those moments I hadn’t actually killed myself or hurt anyone else for that matter.

I had pretty much given up on life. For a series of reasons. Does it matter which ones? Would any of them have justified credibility? There is almost always someone ready to tell you just how small your problems are given the opportunity.

A friend of mine invited me to move across the country and live with him. Moving across the country was intimidating. I grew up in the same place my whole life. I grew up with the same people around me my whole life. I was spent where I was. What else could I do? “If it doesn’t work out you can always kill yourself later.” I thought.

It is important to note that moving across the country was in no way a solution to my issues. My issues weigh nothing and packed lightly in my suitcase. My issues do not show up on the TSA scanner. My issues flew first class to my destination and were practically moved in by the time I caught up with them in my new apartment.

There I was in my new apartment. I was rejuvenated for a little bit, but those old voices would still whisper in my ear. They kept me well informed and up to date with my current inadequacies and ensured me I had made the wrong decision about my new location. Mostly while I lay in bed at night trying to sleep. Then when I woke up in the morning those bastards wouldn’t even let me get to my coffee.

At one point while I was in my new location I had the opportunity to buy a sports car. And not just any sports car, a Corvette! I’m not much of a car guy. My friend however was. He assured me this was the right decision. The Vette was priced just under cost of a brand new Honda Civic. Still though, what about maintenance? What if I bottom out of every gas station parking lot? What happens when I stall out because I don’t know how to drive stick? What if I stall out while I’m making a left hand turn and get t-boned by on coming traffic? I told my friend I was too worried I’d scratch the thing. He looked at me squarely and said “You’re pretty much ready to kill yourself but you won’t buy a Corvette because you’re afraid you might scratch it?”

Please select your preference from the following options:
1: Depressed.
2: Depressed, with a Corvette.

Wait is this a story about how a Corvette is the answer to suicidal depression? Yes, it totally is!

Actually it’s about how having a narrow world view will inevitably lead to depression. This monochromatic perspective on life makes you to afraid to try anything. Everything you try will inevitably not live up to your expectations. Perfectionism is the road to incredibly well polished failures.

Say whatever you like about my cliche mid life crisis mobile and my first world white guy problems, but that car saved my life. It didn’t change my life. It didn’t make my problems go away or make me feel better upon purchasing it. All those things were still there, but it did offer me a distraction from them. It let me know there were still other things I could do. So why not buy it? “I could always kill myself later.” I thought.

Like I said being a perfectionist leads to incredibly well polished set of failures. The constant feeling of failure eventually becomes depression as dark as the gun pressed against your head.

“Here I am again.” It’s the first line I write in a lot of my journal entries. It’s usually referring to an emotional location. Generally a woman has left my life. It’s not that she doesn’t like me, it’s just that she doesn’t want to see or talk to me ever again. Maybe it would be more appropriately written “Here I am, again, alone.” Sometimes it’s me wondering why my credit cards aren’t paid off still. “Here I am, again, in debt.” Other times I wonder how I ended up drinking again. “Here I am, again, a drunk.” Usually it’s the statement I make when I’m trying to figure things out. It’s like I’m lost in the woods of life. “I’m back in the same spot. How does this keep happening?” It’s an indicator that despite my best efforts I am back where I started. This isn’t the worst thing that could happen, it’s actually really important.