I once wrote a post about a failed suicide attempt I made as a toddler.
It involved trying to hang myself in the coat closet with my dad’s belt. I must have been 2 or 3, and recently returned to my natural parents. I didn’t recall the rest of this until recently, but as it turned out I fell. I cannot tell you what went wrong. I had not even learned how to tie my shoes yet. Probably many thing went wrong.
This post gets hits every single day. Usually several. The seeker is usually looking for something more or less along the lines of the title.
I am hoping all of you are writing books and not suicidal.
Nonetheless, this post is for you.
It is vaguely, distantly possible that you could make it work, but it’s unlikely. Not if it’s the usual kind of closet. For an adult, the rod holding your clothes up is not high enough. Unless you are very short, your feet will touch the ground. The goal of hanging yourself is for this not to happen. And if your tiptoes can touch, then it will just be torture until someone finds you.
If you are not writing a book, and really want to try to kill yourself, this is what you ought to do instead: Make a list.
Not a list of reasons to live. If you are that desperate, the reasons to live are going to seem really lame and not worth living for.
A list of things to do that take the edge off things. Not things that make you feel better. You are unlikely to feel better if you feel shit to this degree. But a list of things that just kind of make you feel ever so slightly less shitty. Put it in order, from easiest and with the least consequences to hardest and most consequences. Suicide can be on the bottom of the list. Make sure it is a long list. If you still want to do at the end, I guess you can. But make a deal with yourself that you need to do everything on the list first.
Most people break someone’s heart when they die. You probably will too.
I had a list like this for a long time that I kept in my wallet, just to make sure I had it with me at all times. Suicide was not on it. If it came to that, it was like shampoo. Rinse. Repeat.
I am still alive.
Life gets less unbearable for me every day.