How Long Would You Miss Me?

It’s good to remind yourself once in a while that you really don’t know what someone else is thinking.

Please don’t be shocked. That isn’t my intent. This isn’t a cry for help. You aren’t my doctor. This is a suicide pact, and in spite of the fact that you don’t feel strongly enough to die with me today, you’ve already entered into it. It’s too late to back out now.

If I killed myself today, how long would you miss me?

Lots of us have suicidal thoughts like that. We don’t talk about them because we don’t want to freak everyone else out. I believe in the birds of a feather rule, right? …so probably more than half of the people reading me here have had them. And that probably means you.

I gotta be honest. I’m just words on a page, right? You probably wouldn’t even know I died. I shouldn’t even give a crap who’s going to miss me or for how long. But this is me and my freaky ways of being in love with you again, and yes, I give a serious crap (which, by the way, if you’re not serious about that, please just stop) how long you’d miss me.

I’m tired of not talking about my suicidal thoughts. I think maybe if we all talked about them more, less people would do it, kind of like other things we talk about doing. Maybe I’m not the best person to spearhead that topic. But I’m tired of the hours I’ve spent writing about it, only to click Move to Trash because I love you and I don’t want to depress you.

Four people in my life have killed themselves. I don’t know what the odds are. I’ve spent way too much of my own time picturing myself as number five.

Seriously, I’m not going to kill myself. But I want to. So many days of my life, I just look at the meaninglessness of it all. I realize that no matter how hard I work, no one is going to remember what I do, and a hundred years from now, no one is going to remember I even existed. Why was I even here?

Some days, the world just takes a dump on you, you know? You look up and, “Whoa, that cloud’s a little darker than usual… crap!” Figuratively. I hope. But we have lots of reasons for these thoughts, and most of us who have them are battling with an internal fecal storm called depression. I don’t need to lose my job, or my leg, to want to end it all. Sure, those things would suck. Some days, being out of coffee or breaking a nail is enough. And some days all it takes is for you to say the wrong thing.

During a test I was struggling with in school, I got up to sharpen my pencil. I stood there at the sharpener trying to picture how sharp it would have to be to push it through my temple and into my brain. The pencil, not the sharpener. Is that healthy? What about wondering if I would still get an F on the test?

My list is pretty long. I’ve only hung myself once (with a belt… I didn’t like it). I’ve shot myself in the head, and in the heart (my ♥ fav), and once in the femoral artery just to see if that would really work (I really don’t like bleeding to death). I’ve jumped from several cliffs, usually at the beach. I like jumping… Once from the top of an office building. The top of a lighthouse. A couple of bridges (not the Golden Gate, that’s too cliché). An overpass onto a busy freeway. I’ve even opened the cabin door on a trans-Atlantic flight and stepped out. I’ve poisoned myself (yuck). I’ve stabbed myself in many places and with many objects (always painful). I’ve sliced my wrists (this was very beautiful and a ♥ close second if it wasn’t for the bleeding to death part) and my carotid artery with razors. Once, I hurled myself into a giant meat grinder. I even imagined strangling myself with my own umbilical cord after I saw [name of movie withheld for those who haven’t seen it].

I think about this.

A. Lot.

Can you tell?

You are welcome to notice that my list does not include drowning myself, setting myself on fire, or blowing myself up. You also don’t have to worry, we are not going to kill ourselves in any of those ways today. I’ve thought about this a long time and I’ve decided how it works. How it’s going to work. What we’re going to do, you and I, is we’re simply going to stop writing. Forever.

Be calm. Breathe. It’s going to be okay. If you’re one of those people like me with irregular posts, no one will even notice for at least a week. About one in ten of your followers will actually leave a message at some point over the next month wondering where you are and when the others see that you don’t answer, your blog will stop getting hits. Its pulse will stop. Peace. Easy peasy. We have to be in this together though. Are you with me?

Okay, we’ll count down from three…

Three…

Two…

One…

Stop!

Yeah, I’ll stop writing when they pry my cold dead fingers away from the keyboard. But it feels good to think about it. To be frustrated with all the times things wouldn’t come out right, or that day I got zero hits (there’s an ego boost), or the number of fiction writers who get Freshly Pressed, or just the incredible strain it puts on life. And for once, it’s going to feel good to click [Publish] instead of Move to Trash.

Share my freedom with me in the comments, please, and I’ll leave you with this message…

I read a quote the other day from Kate Chopin that said, “There are some people who leave impressions not so lasting as the imprint of an oar upon the water.”

Kate said more to me with those words than I think she intended. A ripple from an oar carries on for an invisible eternity. It’s only our perception of it that wanes. This ripple I’ve started with my words will carry on in your life in ways neither of us could ever imagine.

Thanks always for reading! ♥

© 2012 Anne Schilde

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About Anne Schilde

Image "Webster's Kiss" © 2011 Anne Schilde Thanks always for reading! ♥
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22 Responses to How Long Would You Miss Me?

  1. rumpydog says:

    Ya know, I could have written a significant portion of that post. And no, neither you nor I will likely make Freshly Pressed. Sucks but such is life!

    • Anne Schilde says:

      I remember you said something similar on my Down Under post. I hope something like this feels like a release. It really did feel good clicking publish for a change. I stopped reading Freshly Depressed months ago. 🙂

  2. Thu says:

    I had a good friend commit suicide, too, and I must say, it’s hard not to fantasize death, like every other day, thinking maybe I should have been the one that died instead. I’ve never attempted to make it happen, but it’s still strange how the brain creates the scenarios. It’s the inner workings of our conscience, trying to resolve or rationalize things.

    • Anne Schilde says:

      I’m sorry. I’m sure most of us have lost someone at least sort of close. I think picturing it is our way of expressing anguish. Like crying expresses sorrow. At least I hope so.

  3. Chatter Master says:

    How long would I miss you? I would always wonder where you went. I would wonder if you found something else to do. I would wonder if you finished writing about all of those characters who depend on you to exist, if only on paper. If I ever found out you died, by suicide or other, I would wonder about that. For a very long time. And I would wonder….what if?

    I can lament with you about many of your feelings. Many of them. And about the writing? Sometimes I get such a feeling of accomplishment for something I’ve written, to have pretty near no one read it, and absolutely no one comment on it. I try hard to not let it diminish my feeling of accomplishment because no one “now” reads it. But I like that it is there. And some day, someone, will read it and it will matter.

    I’m sorry for the difficult feelings. But thank you for sharing it. How you feel matters. And most likely, it matters to many who don’t know how to express it.

    • Anne Schilde says:

      …or can’t, I suppose.

      Haha, it would be pretty rotten of me not to at least finish Kate first!

      I tried to show in closing that I believe the things we write touch each other very deeply even in ways we didn’t intend, just like Kate Chopin’s quote. I rarely write personal stuff outside of comments, but I still feel a lot of love from the people like you who take the time to love my characters. It’s pretty emotionally overwhelming actually. I cry a lot.

      • Chatter Master says:

        I think your writing is very emotional. I think sometimes its easier for us to deal with our emotions by processing them through the characters. I’m no Lucy with 5c sign out for the Peanuts….but that kind of makes sense to me.

        Yes, it would be VERY rotten to not finish Kate first!

        I will admit that I have never shared my lowest moments with anyone. Ever. But like you, I feel true compassion and appreciation through people on my blog. I think the world underestimates all of the good left in it. We talk so much about the bad, that we don’t see as much of the good any more. But I think blogging is a fantastic way to connect people, cultures, differences. And it allows for dealing with things that maybe aren’t so easy when we’re alone. Or feel alone. Or feel like crap. Or….just don’t have the nerve to put it out there and instead, in our every day lives we put our own feelings in the equivalent of “move to trash”.

        Hhhhhmmmm, possibly have my blog thought for the day!

        I hope you have a heart full of wonderment and contentment right now.

      • Anne Schilde says:

        I would be a rock if it was full of anything less!
        See? The metaphor for how we handle our emotions is something I didn’t intend, but somehow the words touched you that way anyway. I feel so validated!

  4. Chatter Master says:

    🙂 You should feel validated. One thing I really hope for with “my” writing (or anything great that I read) is that it will spark communication, discussion, feelings. Isn’t that one of the best results of our writing? Thank you for inspiring me today.

  5. Ermilia says:

    I would miss you a lot. And for as long as I keep reading and writing (which is by the way, for as long as I live).

    – Ermisenda

  6. joetwo says:

    Don’t kid yourself. We would miss you. Because we care about you. Even if it is only through words on a screen.

    • Anne Schilde says:

      Thanks, Joe. I’m not kidding myself most of the time. I know there are other people who struggle with feelings like this too, and I want to ecourage talking about them. The words on the screen mean the world to me.

  7. God…Anne. I feel like you scooped this out of my brain with a rusty fork. The first time I tried suicide I was ten years old. My grandfather was doing nasty things to me and my mother couldn’t go a day without calling me “fat fat fatty” or yelling at me or hitting me. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Since then, I’ve tried suicide several times: cutting, burning, pill overdose. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m supposed to be here for some reason. Maybe to raise Miss S. Maybe some other reason. I’ve yet to figure that out.

    • Anne Schilde says:

      You’ve just made this my best day, Ribbons! Thank you so much for sharing, and thank you so much for still being here to share your amazing feelings and thoughts! ♥

  8. Shalvika P says:

    The only thing you can truly control is your own death at your own hands. That’s very easy to grasp, right? And yes, a lot of us have thought about it! But i feel the whole beauty of living is in finding the things that make you wanna live longer. And believe me, there is no dearth of such things 🙂
    And Anne, we will seriously miss you!!! It probably wont register for a couple of days that you are gone. But believe me, we all will!!!
    Hug!! 🙂

    • Anne Schilde says:

      Definitely find what makes life worth it. Like Ribbons said, whether it’s Miss S. or what. I think hitting the permanent off switch is throwing away that control, so not while I still make the decisions in this head! Thank you for your sentiment!

  9. yazrooney says:

    Hello again Anne, I liked this post because it’s you, and you can’t be anyone else. If you’re suicidal, you’re suicidal, and I wouldn’t EVER hit the delete button once it was out on paper. When I was at my suicidal worst, I talked about it openly to my husband and daughter, and tell them to this day that death is something I crave. Not in a morbid way anymore, but in a positive way. It sounds crazy, I know, but to think about death means that we are finally facing up to the pointlessness of this type of human life. Depression is just a place where we contemplate change and what that means. When we get to this place in our evolution, it means that we are in a critical position, a place where we have to transform the way we view the world. We are challenged to evolve on many levels.

    You’re a gifted writer, Anne. Explore death openly and unashamedly in your writing. Let go. Be who you are. You’ll go through an intense transformation. I’m here with you.

    • Anne Schilde says:

      Thank you and thank you! I don’t think it’s crazy at all. You make a lot of sense, to me anyway. I can’t really say I crave dying, but I welcome it. I die in some of my dreams, and so I die in some of my writing too.

  10. Tincup says:

    This is a side of you I haven’t seen, and I like it…a lot.

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