I want to clarify as it seems my last post was misunderstood a bit. I reread it and it is completely rational that it should be, no one is in my head but me. Well, almost no one...
I am not currently suicidal, that is not what the post was about, eschatology to me is the hope of rebirth, transformation through a focused point in time, not an ending. It's in the Terence Mckenna context, not the Bible's, the source I spoke of is more difficult to explain, and I'm not ready yet. Suffice it to say I am in no physical danger, I'm not going to hurt myself, at least not intentionally, I have not been seriously suicidal in almost a year, and, if I was, you would not see me posting here, or anywhere, or even logged in, I would be laying in my bed, naked and unshaven, uncleaned for days or weeks, unfed, staring blankly at my ceiling thinking of absolutely NOTHING. But I don't want to think about that...
Incidentally Freepath, I decided when I was young the same thing as you. "Suicide is for the unimaginative" I told myself, this after years of early teen ideation, "If things get to sh*tty I'll just run away, hitchhike to New York, or out west, become a cross dressing circus hobo traveling condom salesman, ANYTHING, whatever, it is more romantic than death". It was a rational idea alright, and I stuck to it through all of my drinking years. What I didn't realize then, and not until after I first sought help with my addiction, is that it was the liquor that kept me alive. Do I thank liquor for keeping me alive all those years? Or do I curse it for covering up the intensity of a depression that now, unleashed after fifteen years smouldering, rushes me sometimes like some furious tsunami with no hope or thought of escape?
When I was thirteen I came the closest to doing it. I was standing on the roof of my house, resolved, empty, ready. Mere nano-seconds before I was going to jump a neighbor came out with a laundry basket in her hand, saw me and screamed, dropped it, ran inside. My 13 year old reaction was to run back inside, pretend she was crazy, that I had been in my room. I was a private person back then too, and I couldnt' STAND that thought of making a show, I wanted to die alone, I didn't want anyone to witness. Looking back I've often wondered if this was childish wishing, but I remember how I felt then, I remember how much I wanted to die, it wasn't for attention, I never told anyone, my parents were oblivious to my emotional problems, I kept it that way, and I do to this day.
There was something I felt back then that I lost when I drank, when I took drugs. Here was SOMETHING. Something that could make me FEEL. Something that could bring me closer to the gods! Something that could fill this gnawing void inside of my heart. Things felt differently then and that's when I decided about suicide, wrote it off as a prepubescent fantasy and moved forward with my life. I didn't have to think seriously again about it until I was 27, and ready to admit to myself that I was an alcoholic, that I needed help,... that I had to quit. At first I did great, as many do, I quit for months, I was at another online community then and it helped me immensely. Will power can be a great motivator for a time... But then, when I started getting REAL urges. When my AV was fed up with funking around and wanted a drink at ANY cost, that's when the trouble began. I had a complete mental breakdown in January of 07. I had NO idea what hit me. I hadn't felt anything like that since I was thirteen, since the last time I did not have access to alcohol whenever I needed it...
Apathy, blank, sucking SUCKING void inside of my chest, SUCKING so hard eternities of hopelessness and numbification at wild speeds through me downwards, pushing, I gasped for breath at the intensity and force and suddeness of this super heavy FILTH that had descended all around me, trapping me hopeless in its net, discoloring all the world around me in browns and grays and terror, complete terror and SO FUNKING FRIGHTENING!!! I couldn't breath. I couldn't work. I couldn't talk. I could only stare surreal all around me, heavy with pain, such aching aching ACHING pain! Have you ever had a toothache? The almost pulsing pain deep in root? Imagine that in your chest, your heart, sending shutters through your body, weakening you INTENSELY every goddamned moment for days, then weeks. What do you do? How do you react? How do you find release? When that pain turns to apathy, the next part of the reaction, for me, numb, stricken, remember McMurphy in One Flew Over The Cookoo's nest? Something like that, vegitable matter, no choice to get out, get back, no more reality, no more hope, all gone, blank, hurt, broken, lost. In the words of Roger Waters "Done roamin', done carin', done livin'".
Eventually I just drank, I NEEDED it to feel, it was the only way I knew, to get out, and it didn't feel good, it didn't feel good AT ALL. But it FELT! It FELT! IT FELT!!!! I had been covering something up for thirteen years, a ferocious infection of darkness and rot, suicide became the alternative, the way out, I once laughed at my past notions for hours during a madness spell,... 'what was I THINKING? lol, run away? Away from what? I'M the problem, not my external stimulation, the rot is INSIDE of me, cancerous in my body, my lungs my liver my heart my soul, it's in ME, I can't get it out by running away, god KNOWS I've tried, hoboing around this country for years, running away from myself. MYSELF! How do I get away from myself?...' Separation of spirit and matter.
I've had periodic breakdowns since, mostly when I go sober for long periods. Last summer was the last, I was ready, looking down at the rushing mississippi from the footbridge, feeling as if everything inside of me was petrified, dead, rotted hollow, I can still smell the funking rotting, I lay in bed for weeks after not moving, chain smoking. I promised then I would try meds if I ever got that bad again, I haven't, depression plenty, but not to that point, not for that long, that dire.
Anyway, I'll have a nice cup of shut the funk up now as I meant this post to be a few sentences of reassuring that I was in no physical harm. I have to go have a nice cup of coffee with my shut the funk up and get out of bed. I'm ok, just going a little mad, in a good way this time, it won't lead to the apathy, it will only lead to good things, this source is a positive source, this eschaton is a rebirth through love, what I've been waiting for for many lifetimes, and it is wonderful, if completely insane
I know it didn't sound like that in my post, but rebirth is painful, and confusing, and many demons are released to allow the angels inside, a ripping apart of the world you've always known for a new life outside of womb and comfort, scarey, uber real, air, breath, life again, after so long.. and that is what I'm going through. I am happy today...