persephone-caught

I keep feeling like part of me wants to give up and die. This isn’t just how I’m feeling right now, when it might be a chemical imbalance or situational anxiety and depression. I’ve had this feeling in the background of my psyche for years. I keep trying to fight it, but it’s pretty much always there.

This does not mean I’m suicidal or having suicidal thoughts. It doesn’t mean I’m capable of killing myself either. It’s just this feeling like I want to give up and die.

I’ve an almost equally strong feeling that I want to live, I want to survive, but this other feeling of wanting to give up keeps pulling at me, pulling me down.

Given my use of the name Persephone, maybe it’s significant that Death has such a profound hold on me. When I was younger I dreamt of speaking with a personified version of Death. He was wearing a brown monk’s robe and had a rotting skeletal face, but he didn’t seem scary or evil. At times I dreamt of being able to go into the Underworld or to visit the “other side”, a realm of the dead or those between lives. Later I once dreamt that I was engaged to marry an angel of death. He was one of many of his kind, not scary or evil, just doing his job of escorting souls to the other side when it’s their time to die.

I wonder if I have these dreams because I’m prone to metaphysical views and depression, or if I really do have a spiritual connection to Death somehow, one that makes me more prone to despair and suicidal feelings. If I do, that really sucks.

I realize that I have to fight this pull somehow, but it’s so hard sometimes.

(1/5/17 Edit to add)

I think it was just before Christmas one night, I went to bed early while my roommate stayed up and cooked something in the kitchen. I woke a couple hours later, went out of my room and smelled gas in the house. My roommate had accidently bumped a dial on the gas stove, so gas has been going into the house for about an hour. I opened windows and turned on fans to clear out the gas, but as I stood in the living room, I felt tired and almost peaceful. I wondered if I was feeling the effect of carbon monoxide build up and if it would be possible to die easily in my sleep with this kind of build up.

I told myself I shouldn’t think like this. I can’t let myself start thinking about dying or killing myself. I mustn’t let the stress of worrying about money and not having a job yet lead to catastrophic and suicidal thinking. I didn’t let myself dwell too long on such thoughts, but it worried me that they came so easily with the gas scare. I didn’t *feel* scared of dying, but I didn’t want to die yet either.

 

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