Everyone knows Christmas depresses me. It's a time when literally everything from the people around you smiling and wishing you to have a happy holiday to the music reminding you how awesome life seems to be for everyone else, is designed to make those of us with special emotional challenges particularly miserable. Not to mention the totally opposite effect retail has on some people so I find myself being angrily shouted at by an insane adult woman who is berating me because she can't get a $2 fruitcake shaped like a brick as a Christmas present for that neighbor she secretly hates anyway at half off like at her local supermarket. Honestly, I love family and good will and romanticism. The religious aspects much less so, but I just try to appreciate the holiday for its base secular joys. And therein lies the problem. Maybe if I was a total Scrooge and disavowed the holiday altogether I would shield myself somewhat. But it reminds me of things I do not have. Like a family of my own. Or money to spend on presents even if it's only for myself. Or a significant other. I am not alone in this. Many queer people (and straights as well) are alone, especially a staggering amount of our elderly. But with my emotional issues and the setbacks my life has taken in the recent past, it becomes extra hard to smile, or want to celebrate, or even to want to continue to live. I've talked about my suicidal impulses a lot on here. They are always there, but sometimes they are merely a whisper as I go about my day. But at this time of year it becomes more like an angry shout imploring me to stop being a failure at the one thing I might have a chance of doing right and get this shit show over with. And so here we are again. Tomorrow was to be the day. I had a plan. I had a will. I wasn't even sad about it this time, unlike my first and so far only serious attempt. Just blank determination. And it would be over. My pain. My loneliness. I could stop feeling so bad because I would simply stop feeling and that sounded good actually. I did feel awful about ruining Christmas for my family. And I found it incredibly hard to write out suicide notes to friends and loved ones even if it was only a blanket statement of love to everyone which maybe was a sign already that the stupid little positive thinking fuck inside of my head that I've been trying to silence my whole life was already fighting back against my decision. But I was still telling myself fuck it I just won't leave any notes then. I knew that would hurt my family. But there was no way of going through with it without hurting them so that was already a given. It wouldn't take much. A few minutes prep. A quick exit. No more pain. Today was to be my day to finish any preparations and steel myself to my objective. But then last night, something happened. Out of the blue, I decided to buy some concert tickets, not even thinking about how crazy it seemed for someone who wasn't prepared to go on living past tomorrow night to be buying a ticket for something over a month away. But I guess the decision can be made that quickly. Then once I had bought the tickets, my head began wrapping itself around the fact that I needed to live long enough to see these artists that I love. In essence, at least for now, music really did save my life.
I should point out the obvious hollowness of staying alive to see a concert, or a movie, or Doctor Who Series 10 or whatever other ridiculous reason you can grapple onto. You really have to want to stay alive for yourself. Because you have purpose and joy. I still do not have those things, so I am not out of the woods. I may not ever be. But for the moment, I will take what I can get as far as reasoning goes. Maybe if I hold on long enough to to see those artists I love and keep fighting during that time, then something will change. I still think it is unlikely. But not impossible. One of the factors working against me is the sheer multitude of problems I face. If it was only a new job, maybe I could handle it. Or if it was only a new apartment, I'd be able to shoulder the stress. But I need both of those things, plus hopefully money and somebody to share it with. Notice I've dropped all pretense of doing anything with my writing which used to be one of the main dreams I was living for. But I'm beyond that now. That would be a luxury. I need some of the basic foundations of life at this point and I've been more than patient. The least Fate could do is offer me some help for my effort.
At any rate, I've written myself a rain check. Better luck next time maybe, suicide. It's not the first time and it inevitably won't be the last. I still have to get through Christmas, after all. And I will be working through most of it which probably doesn't help. I wish I knew what to do to keep that impulse from returning once and for all. Especially if subconsciously I'm not ready to make good on it. How do some people with such hopelessness and strife continue to wake up and face each day? Sometimes I can barely face myself in the mirror. But for the moment anyway, I'm humming a song and thinking of my next move while pencilling the concert dates into my schedule. I can't promise anyone, let alone myself, that I will even make it that far. But apparently some part of me wants to. And that is always a start. Keep fighting little guy and I'll try to do the same.
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