The Time It Got Bad

WARNING: This section discusses suicidal ideation and self-harm. Please read with care.

Your concern about my safety was well-founded, if delayed a bit from its true apogee, which occurred before - not after - I left [Denver]. Maybe two weeks before we met at the zoo.

In those weeks, I started down two paths - after some quick research ruled out my 8th-floor balcony as being not quite high enough to be certain of a swift or complete job.

On the first stage of one, I cut a deep 4" long gash in my leg to see if I'd have the control and pain tolerance to reliably cut an artery such that it would be quick and unrecoverable, with certainty. Sitting in the tub with a growing pool of blood and a razor blade, I realized the answer was "probably not." I thought that was a funny thought at the time, given the obviousness of the statement and my trembling hand. Looks like I'm going to have a nice scar from it though, which is cool.

Then, after some more research, I tried to order some gas through Amazon when I was drunk - which had become a go-to coping strategy. They contacted me for an alternate address because they can't ship to a residential address. That's when I decided bumping into suicide-prevention laws probably meant it was time to go back to therapy (complicated by state mental health licensing and my move).

My suicidal thoughts and actions weren't irrational impulsivity; they reflected my sense of abandonment and my belief I was truly, deeply, inherently unworthy of love as a human being. That my life, as it was, was meaningless, fruitless, and irreparably broken. That any beliefs I held about human goodness were flights of self-delusion and fantasy. That I was - and always would be - completely alone in this world. That any toiling had been simply to prolong my miserable, unwanted life. My worst fears had come to pass.

I lost everyone.

[REDACTED: For friends' physical and legal safety]

[My other friends] were some combination of shitty friends, ignorant of my orientation, not emotionally close, or primarily takers. There are two that I still intend to be in touch with.