The End

An introduction

 
My name is Brett, I’m 21 years old, and I’m from Blackpool, England. I’m otherwise known online is either Bassection, or SourChicken, and am most known as “That guy who does ONE OK ROCK covers on Youtube”

The truth is, if this post is live, then chances are, I’m probably not here any more. I scheduled this post to go live a week after my suicide attempt, to try to ensure that it didn’t go live if I was still around.

This is my fourth attempt, and hopefully my last. I just wanted to leave everybody with an insight into my reasoning for making this choice, and an insight into the way my mind worked. This isn’t a suicide note per se, but rather a short bio that I hope may help people to understand my choice a bit better.

 

My brain & my mindset

 
So, for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt void of all emotions except sadness, and worry. I’ve felt nothing towards family members, friends, or otherwise acquainted people, as much as I’ve felt that I should, like any normal functioning being. No matter how many good things happened to me or the people surrounding me, I didn’t seem to feel any positive emotion at all. I pretended on occasion, but I was only lying to myself in doing so.

I lived my life worrying about everything. My mind ran through every single scenario you could possibly imagine for every situation that I encountered, but naturally I focused the most on the negative outcomes, and assumed that they were going to be the ones that happened. They played over and over in my head all the way up until it came to the actual event, at which point I became a nervous wreck. A lot of the time, the worst case scenario didn’t actually happen, but that didn’t make me feel any better. It actually made me feel worse.

I felt stupid that I’d been worrying over nothing. When the worst scenario played out, that made me feel worse too. This lead to a gradual degradation of my mood over years due to over-thinking everything, amongst many other things.

I showed a lot of symptoms of schizophrenia, especially over the last couple of months, including both visual and auditory hallucinations, and the insomnia, and paranoia that I’d already been suffering for so long. I was never diagnosed, because I guess I was just too worried about the social stigma that’s placed so heavily on people with such conditions. I was worried that people would hate me even more if I was actually diagnosed, so I tried to keep it to myself.

I spent my school days hearing absolutely nothing nice being said to me throughout. I was bullied for various reasons, and so I was lead to believe that what I was told during school must be true. If somebody complimented me, it must be a lie, right? They were just trying to make me feel better, because of course, I knew that there was nothing good about me. I was made certain of that by everybody already.

I had major self-esteem and self-confidence issues, I guess partially due to the bullying. I felt worthless in every sense of the word, and only once did I ever feel otherwise, but that was very much short-lived.

The truth is, I’ve felt suicidal since I was in high school, and told nobody of it until very recently. The only comfort to me for the past 6-7 years has been knowing that if I don’t get better, if I can’t deal with things, or if things become too much for me to cope with, I have a way out.

It may seem strange to read, but I guess I saw death as my best pal. I took walking routes through the more “dangerous” areas to get to where I wanted, in the hope that something would happen on the way there. If I went out at night, I’d make sure to walk the same routes home on my own, rather than getting a taxi. I also used walking as a way to calm down, and free myself of any anger that was built up inside.

 

My “everlasting” relations

 
I also had major problems with maintaining proper “friendships” with people, partially due to the fact that I didn’t feel like people actually wanted to be friends with me. I didn’t want to talk to people because I felt like I was bothering them. If I was contacted first and asked to do something, I felt like it could only be out of sympathy, or pity.

If I ever felt like I was “close” to somebody, I became too close. It would hurt me when they spent time with other people, or even mentioned other people. I wanted to avoid all of this extra anguish, so I tried to avoid talking to people, in fear that I would get “close” to them.

I felt like I was truly close to one person, and despite many attempts of trying to get away from her to avoid suffering more, and feeling like I was hurting her, I couldn’t. I wanted to spend time with her, and I wanted to make her happy, but I knew what was going to happen eventually. It didn’t take long for me to get to this stage, and when it did, I tried even harder to get away for her sake. Even when I’d ruined everything and gotten us both out of this, I instinctively tried to make it better (Very badly at that)

Why did I try to make it better when I wanted to get out of this so much? I realised how much it was hurting her, and I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t win either way in this relationship, because of how deep I’d let myself get into it. I was happy when I was talking to her, but the rest of the time my mind was back to it’s usual games.

I was constantly making things worse without even realising I was doing anything wrong, and I eventually realised that she really just didn’t want to be talking to me any more. Our friendship eventually got to a stage where I didn’t feel like I could talk to her even if I wanted to, because I just got the overwhelming feeling that I was hated. As much as it hurt, I guess in a way it also comforted me, having it in my mind that there was one less person who cared about me to worry about when it came to the end.

I was hearing her voice on a fairly regular basis by this stage, doing naught but put me down, tell me I was worthless, and that I should get it over with etc. As hard as I find it to believe that she’d actually say any of this stuff, because of how nice she’d been before I started hearing voices, I was at a stage where I never knew what she was actually saying to me because of how real it seemed. I guess in reality, this was probably a large contributing factor to the problems in this particular friendship.

This is just one fine example of how every friendship went with me if I tried to be what I considered a good friend (Minus the voices prior to this one)
An inevitable train wreck, ending only in more suffering for both parties. I guess in the end, I never was a good friend to anybody. I didn’t know how to be.

 

My “temporary escape”

 
I’d spent probably close to 2 years binge drinking. I lived with my mother, and had very little outgoing on bills, so 90% of my wages were going on alcohol. I was spending £100+ on alcohol per week easily. Whiskey, Rum, Vodka, Tequila etc. Anything with a high alcohol percentage, just in order to get me drunk as fast as possible. When I was drunk, I could cope just that little bit better. It wasn’t a cure to my problems, but on many occasions, as much as I hate to say it, it stopped me killing myself.

I drank before work, I drank on my breaks, and I drank after work. I decided in November to go cold turkey, and as hard as I found the following months, I guess it helped me to realise just how bad my depression was. I found it extremely difficult to cope without, and at times I would feel that I needed to drink when I felt that I was going to attempt something.

This is just one of many things that I managed to hide well for a long time without people realising.

 

Playing it out

 
Many people will know that I played both bass and guitar. As much as I pretended to, I didn’t “enjoy” it per se, it was just something that passed time a bit. I made covers on Youtube in an attempt to entertain other people, and created tabs for these covers in order to feel like I was doing something of value, and actually being a good person. As stupid as it may sound to other people, the positive reception that I received from all of this only aided in bringing my mood down, because as stated, I didn’t believe any of the positive things said about me.

I eventually burned out, and I couldn’t keep doing it. I couldn’t keep playing, pretending that I was enjoying it. I took 6 months away before “coming back”, but even then it was only the same feelings that shrouded me whenever I thought about playing. I wanted to make other people happy, but I hated feeling so bad whenever people complimented me on my so-called “ability”

 

The “help”

 
How can I explain any of what I’ve described so far? Is it just outright depression? I don’t know, but I never thought anything of it until a few years ago, when I finally realised that this wasn’t “just the way I am” and that it was actually a problem. I finally decided to go to the doctor’s about it earlier this year. I was given anti-depressants, referred for counseling, referred to the psychiatrist, and even contacted by the “Crisis team”

Did any of this help? Not at all. I felt worse. I had horrendous nausea from the medication, had no appetite, I was getting even less sleep than usual (An hour a day if I was lucky) and I was feeling even more suicidal than ever before, because of worry about all the appointments that I had to go to, and having to talk to people about this. I eventually got to a point where I was going 3-4 days at a time without any sleep at all, because I was worrying so much, so I just abruptly stopped everything in fear that it would just get rapidly worse if I didn’t do so.

I felt like a lost cause, like I couldn’t be helped. I suppose that I thought there was no way at all of me ever shifting this, because any attempt to get better seemed to go the opposite way and make me feel worse.

 

The research and the final method

 
I put a large amount of time into research on suicide methods. Time taken, cost, pain levels, success rate, and risk to others amongst many other factors. I’d looked into hanging, jumping from height, overdosing, and asphyxiation to begin with, and researched extensively into each of them and the risks involved.

I eventually came across the idea of the exit bag, using either helium or nitrogen. Nitrogen seemed to be the most successful of the two, but was also more expensive, and posed more risk to surrounding people, so I settled on helium. This was fairly cheap, very much effective, and didn’t pose much risk to others. I only had to make sure that I prepared everything perfectly in order to be successful in my attempt.

I’d tried overdosing in the past, unsuccessfully, due to not researching enough into it. I didn’t think to take drugs to avoid being sick, or grinding the tablets up, and nor did I think about what to overdose on. I grabbed anything I could find, washed it all down with some water, and waited. I also tried putting a bag over my head in combination with this, in order to cut off oxygen when I passed out, but I ripped the bag off in my sleep, it would seem. I’d never told anybody about these attempts for obvious reasons. Not even close family were aware of this.

I guess there’s one thing that a lot of people don’t realise about suicide. Successful attempts aren’t generally carried out on spontaneous decision, but are researched and planned out, weeks, or even months in advance. Even if you’re jumping from height, there’s very few places that are high enough to guarantee death. Most places high enough to kill you are fenced for that exact reason, and the rest are very likely to just severely injure you, or leave you crippled. Suicide isn’t something that you can easily do without planning beforehand. There tends to be a lot of research and preparation carried out prior to the attempt in most successful cases.

 

Wrapping it all up

 
I know people are bound to say “You’re so young, you’ve got your life ahead of you, and lots of time to get better. You don’t have any reason to end your life at such a young age!” – My reply to this? I don’t want to spend any more time than I have already suffering, and trying to get better. This is my decision to make, and I believe that everybody should be able to make that decision themselves, regardless of age.

And I also want anybody who may consider my decision to be selfish, to please consider this:
If it’s selfish of me to make the decision to end my own life, is it not also selfish of others to expect me to suffer a lifetime for their own sake?
Is it too much of me to ask that I have a path to get away from my own mind torturing me?

I guess this is all about understanding. Nobody could begin to understand what was going through my head, even regardless of everything I’ve said here. There’s so many things going on in my head that I just never felt that I could share with anybody. Even now, I guess there’s a limit to what I feel I can share. Also, to be told that “Everybody goes through shit like this at some point in their life.” is ridiculous. Everybody’s mind works differently, and nobody copes with things in the same way, so I cannot logically be compared to other people in the “same situation”.

To conclude this rambling, I just want everybody to know that this is nobodies fault. Nobody is to blame for this, except myself. It’s entirely my own fault, and only my own lack of willpower and strength of mind is to blame. My inability to cope with things is the killer here.

tl;dr Don’t be sad that I’m gone, just be happy that I’m not suffering any longer.

(written May 14th, 2014, last revision June 14th, 2014)

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