Asking rational questions for something done when nothing rational was going on inside, doesn’t make rational sense to me. I don’t mean this in a judgmental way — I mean it from a sense of having been there, myself.

I had two periods of my life, one that lasted 2 months, and one that lasted for 4 months, at the ages of 18 and 23, respectively, where all I wanted to do for those entire periods was die. I didn’t want to cry out for help, I didn’t want to show anyone, I simply wanted to die, for I felt I had no reason to live.

This was not rational, but it was my state of mind, my state of life, during those two periods. The first time, at the end of the suicidal period, I did finally make a cry out for help, after I’d tried and failed to drive off a cliff, every night for those two months, and then took a bottle of pills that only made me really sick and completely out of it. I turned to my Mom, who was able to get me help. She told me of the time that she was suicidal, and made me feel like I wasn’t alone, after all.

The second time, after numerous attempts failed, I gave up on believing I would ever follow all the way through, and lost all hope (to me, the idea of ending it all through suicide was a kind of hope — a hope to end the pain and mental anguish). After that, I got help from the V.A. (Veterans Administration then).

When I was suicidal, it really felt like it would never change, and I would always be that alienated and alone. You can call it selfish or not, it’s a place of desperation, and I don’t think whether it was selfish or not even matters. Getting out of that place is what matters. When I tell my story to people, I only hope what they hear is you can be there, and you can get out of there — without ending it all.

That said, your story had a wonderful message at the end, one I hope reaches someone who needs to hear it.