Part 4: Serious Suicide Risk Catch- 22

I find myself repeating the phrase no one takes me seriously.

My friends don’t take my physical incapacitation seriously, they minimize and invalidate my hardships and silence me with their self-absorbed envy and silver linings.

The medical care system doesn’t take my medical needs seriously, they don’t return phone calls, or file paperwork for referrals or believe that crippling fatigue is a concern They see no urgency to complete testing to perhaps diagnose a problem that could be treated and brush off me languishing for weeks and weeks sick as just the reality those without private resources have to face. They don’t see my personhood, they turn a blind eye to why this hurts, minimizing my needs in the face with those with documented conditions of a serious nature…

No one takes my mental health history, my history of suicide attempts seriously. They don’t see my isolation and lack of security and stability during this pandemic as a serious risk to my health and well-being even as they see me suffering, even if they knew i was suicidal before the pandemic and the despair it’s wrought on everyone would only exacerbate my shit.

No one dares to contemplate and really grasp the gravity and magnitude of my setbacks, refusing to see that whatever resilience I’ve shown is wearing me down and I am about to crumble.

But if you take me seriously then what? What can you do? Would you call the police to keep me safe knowing it’s the last thing I want and will not keep me safe but push me deeper into trauma of my circumstances? Will you beg me to stay with friends who make me feel worse, who make me feel like a pitiful nobody in this life and barely pay me any attention? Will you tell me to use all of my energy, the very little energy I have, to do something to put your mind at ease but does nothing to make me feel better and only exhausts me further?

I’ve been listening to a lot of historical podcasts that reference a moment when a famous person had a “nervous breakdown” – this term is outdated, meaningless in today’s parlance of mental health, perhaps I would call it a “relapse” or “acute relapse.”

But yesterday, I did actually feel like I was having a nervous breakdown.. that whomever I was speaking on the phone, pleading with to help me try to take next step to resolve the root of my physical woes, please please, just help me instead of dismissing me. And I cried, and I screamed and I said aloud i felt suicidal…. my emotions burst out loud and dramatic, as if finally free from pandora’s box I had them locked in. The word suicide triggered their “I must be serious,” but serious not about my underlying complaint, but the liability they have, to call the police on me to protect my life in a moment of self-harm, but not to do anything to counter the long tortuous death they inflict on me by their repeated inactions and dismissals of my personhood….

911 signifies its serious…an emergency. but it’s a trap with no solution. an alarm bell set off, for a flash second, drowned out and ignored within moments. An emergency where they lock you for a moment, warn you against making honest and emotional procolomations insinuating that is the root of the problem, and then kick you to the curb to figure it out yourself exactly in the same position, if not worse than when you started. Been there done that.

Anyways, should I be taken seriously? I forced down some alcohol, liquid courage and said to myself, let’s see how serious you can be. I walked myself to the hardware store and unabashedly asked three separate attendants with help locating the rope, blades, and some duct tape.

I’ve told myself no more chicken shit suicide attempts, if you are serious be serious. I hung up a noose. I dared myself. Put the noose around your neck. Does it feel serious yet? Can you make it hurt? Can you cut off your breath? How long might it take?

No one is going to take you seriously, if you aren’t being serious.

No one is going to save the day, no one is going to solve your problems, soothe your pain, no matter how serious it is or serious you are.

And you can’t be that serious, because clearly you are still too scared. And if society’s only threshold to caring is crossing the line, from life to death, they will only care when it’s too late. Your suffering is a white noise, society is numb to it, it will never be taken seriously.

So there lies the noose, reminding you, you are too scared or awaiting the opportunity for you to be brave, to step up, to be serious. If not,I’m calling your bluff and it’s time to just fucking shut up.