There’s a bridge near my house. It overlooks the railroad tracks.
I’ve never had a bridge nearby before, so it’s been a weird thing to adjust to, being so close to something I could so easily walk to and throw myself off of. As someone who’s tried to kill herself, and often debated whether or not to try again, it’s almost like tempting fate to live right around the block from something that could so easily achieve that goal. Now, I’m not saying I’m going to go right out and throw myself off this bridge. I’m just saying that it’s strange to have something that closely related to my suicidal feelings that close by, and somehow have the strength to continually never use it, despite always waking up in the morning wishing I hadn’t woken up in the morning.
I’ve said numerous times that one of, if not the only, thing that helps regarding suicidal thoughts is that it stems from a place of control when I have none. It’s something I have complete and total control of deciding to do and carrying out, accomplishing that goal. When you have no control in any other aspect of your life, it’s almost an uplifting reminder that yes, you do have control over something. But that’s all it is, the illusion of control. You WON’T go through with it, but you COULD go through with it. The bridge merely exemplifies this. Before I’d have to get a rope to hang myself with or buy a bunch of sleeping pills to overdose on, but now, here’s an option, so easily within my grasp! It’s literally around the block from my house! How could it be made any easier for me? But just because it’s easier doesn’t mean it’s the right course of action, and that’s what I have to remind myself of. Just because it’s something I could do, doesn’t mean it’s something I should do.
Honestly, I try to avoid walking across that bridge if I can. It’s not hard, as there’s sidewalks underneath on both sides of the street, so it’s not like the bridge is something I absolutely have to cross to get somewhere. But even then, unless I am unable to, I try to avoid crossing it by all means because simply being up on there makes it all the more tempting to jump off. It’s the allure of the concept. But the bravest thing I do every single day isn’t not taking that option, it’s admitting that I could take it. See, so many people always say “it’s so brave to fight with yourself every single day when you want to die!” but honestly, no, for me, it’s even more brave to admit that I want to die and could die at any given moment if I chose to do so. Admitting my mortality, and my hand in achieving the end of it, is the bravest thing I can do, because what it does is force me to admit, “Well, if I can kill myself, who says I can’t keep on living?”
To face both options, one more easy than the other, and instead choose the harder one, that’s not bravery. Not for me anyway. That’s just common sense. That’s just beating out the darkness that consumes my brain. But to admit I COULD kill myself, that I COULD end it all, to face that bleak reality head on and THEN instead walk the other way? That, to me, is what I do every day that is brave. Admitting I want to die, that I could die, accepting that reality, is my bravery. Bravery varies for everyone. I’m not saying it’s not brave for someone to continue living instead of dying, because sure, for a lot of people, that’s bravery too. But for me, on my personal level, what’s brave is admitting that I could stop it all right now. That it’s that goddamned simple and I have that much control over it. That I embrace that reality is what’s brave for me, instead of denying it to myself and instead forcing myself to smile day in and day out while feeling like a trash fire is burning inside of me.
So yeah. There’s a bridge near my house. It overlooks the railroad tracks.
Sometimes I walk on it. Most of the time I don’t.
But I will never jump from it. Because, fuck, that’d just be too easy, and why the hell should things start getting easy just when I decide to quit.