Musings on Life Through the Lens of Death, vol 1
Mortality Is a Recurring Theme Lately
cw. I’m not a fan of labeling my writing but I understand why someone would want to be forewarned. I wish life could forewarn me before participating in activities that will fuck me up but whatever…it is what it is. so *content warning* - this post contains references to suicidal ideations.
At some point I’m going to write about trigger warnings for content. When someone passes away, we send “thoughts and prayers” and yet when someone thinks about unaliving themselves, we send them to a psychiatric emergency room, as if that experience were less traumatic than experiencing life with thoughts of not wanting to participate anyone.
This is not how I expected to write this musing but my streams of consciousness, while sitting in the car parked in Brooklyn, waiting for someone to come back from their appointment, got me reflecting on how I want to exercise my right speak unapologetically about my relationship with suicidal ideations.
I would love to say I “struggled” with it, as if the battles were in the past - forever etched as memories I can compartmentalize and revisit as needed. I can’t say I’m currently having them because I don’t trust anyone to flag me and send me into a spiral of having to justify my emotions.
Even in my worst, I never shared my feelings because I didn’t want to be saved. I see how the world moves when it comes to punishing those who choose to opt-out of this experiment called life and I’m not headstrong to let someone convince me that I’m wrong.
Wrong is subjective and I’m too far gone in life to trash the growth I’ve made, even on the days when it feels pointless. I’m an emotional sadist in that way.
All of this started because my dog was put down over the weekend. I’m still processing the loss and don’t know how to make sense of my ambivalence.
Maybe this is how I grieve. Maybe this is how I disassociate. Who knows…
Technically speaking, he wasn’t my dog. Just like the other yorkies that I was attached to who, that were mauled by the husky (who’s passing I did not feel remorse about). I heard their cries. I carried them in my arms, bleeding out while we drove to the emergency vet. To this day, I get chest pains when I’m in the basement of my mom’s house.
Mortality is a recurring theme in my head and it’s easily accompanied with thoughts of suicide. The same thought that persists is “why are you still here?” Most of the time, I answer that with action.
Am I taking care of myself?
This is the easiest answer to fuck up because I created a life where self-care is nearly impossible and yet I wonder how much of that is an unconscious desire to die. If I wanted to prolong my existence, why do I willingly participate in a life that stunts my growth - physically, emotionally, and mentally?
All of this existential thinking over the death of a dog.
The symbolism of his death got me wondering about how much am I holding onto what is not mines.
How many friendships do I claim as important that don’t reciprocate?
How much of my identity is tethered to a career that doesn’t light me up?
I can do a lot of things and be a lot of things but how much of those can I claim as my own?
How many people do I entertain that are out of habit and convenience?
How much of my work is rooted in normalcy for fear of realizing that maybe I am not good enough at what I want to do so I stay thriving in a space that accommodates others. Because if they are happy then maybe that joy trickles down to me. The gag is that when I center myself, I see how lonely life is when the connections you have are not grounded in reciprocity.
So when I say I have a relationship with suicidal ideations, it’s not to romanticize it.
It’s to acknowledge the nuance of something I’ve lived with for years, that pops up like a groundhog every once in a while. It took me decades to own this as part of my lived experiences. It doesn’t mean I am broken. It doesn’t mean I am flawed.
It simply means I am living, with thoughts that keep me on toes, and that creep up on me when I’m reminded of my mortality.
To be continued…