Thoughts on Suicide, Fear, and Life

I was basically asked two questions: Are you afraid of dying? Is that fear why you’re still here?

As to the fear question, the short answer is yes, but it’s more complicated than that. However, that fear is not why I’m still alive. But that question certainly got me thinking… Why am I still here?

I think what I hate most of all is having to deal with all of this in the first place. I don’t want to have to deal with suicide. I don’t want to have to deal with death. But I must because I have something else I have to deal with, something I never wanted to deal with, something I wish I never had: life.

But, oh, how I so do not want to deal with any of this! I want to be spared from life, but in order to do that I must face suicide. However, I also want to be spared from suicide. But if I turn from suicide, I’m back to facing life!

Suicide seems like the better deal. It’s certainly shorter in duration. And that aspect makes this debate seem so simple. However, every ounce of my instinct cries out, “Don’t do it! Stay alive! Stay alive at all costs!” To which, internally, I reply, “Why?” But these cries supply no reasons for they cannot. They stem from a mindless drive to persist. I can push them aside through further questioning, yet still they shout. Is it fear that halts me and makes me listen? I honestly don’t know. All I know is that they’re not easy to ignore.

But neither are my own anguished pleas. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be anywhere. I simply do not want to be. And I don’t have to be. This can all stop. Go. Just get this over with.

An exit is indeed available, but it requires a lot of effort to go through. And it’s effort that I wish I didn’t have to exert. I was thrust into this life unaware. I’ll echo a previous commenter and say that the best that could happen now is to at least exit unaware as well. But beyond some outside chance, that’s not going to happen. And so I return once more to the choice forced into my hands.

But as I said, I despise this choice. And though I can’t avoid it entirely, what I can do is postpone it. By stringing together enough distractions, I can, in effect, kill myself for a day. I can get lost in the story of a book or a show. I can go on long hikes at a brisk enough pace that it’s too hard to form coherent thoughts. I can be absorbed in a game and forget that I even exist.

Though obtaining nonexistence for a day is much easier than committing suicide, it is, of course, only temporary. Reality can only be avoided for so long. And I know a day will come when I cannot (or will not) postpone this choice anymore. So as I kill time, I also plot my demise. I really want an ideal-as-possible suicide method, so I’m taking the opportunity to search for it. Ultimately, I want to get to a point where I have an effective method ready to go at a moment’s notice. Then, whenever it’s easier to kill myself than to keep dragging it out, I’ll be able to jump at the chance.

Now, to specifically address the question of fear:

A big fear of mine is not of death/dying but rather a failed attempt that results in further problems (whether those are physical, mental, or even social). Thus, I want a method that’s as reliable as possible while still taking into account my other requirements. This fear can be minimized through preparation and experimentation, but I’m not sure it can be removed entirely.

Am I afraid of the actual process of dying? If I have to be conscious during it, then, yes. This is certainly more of a worry now that the hyperventilation plus water method has been ineffective for me. What was most appealing to me about that method was that it was testable; you could try it out beforehand without any adverse effects. It was also very controllable; many other means of causing unconsciousness simply introduce too many variables for my liking. I’m still looking for a way to induce unconsciousness that appears accidental, but I may forego that requirement if it comes down to it.

Am I afraid of death itself? Yes and no. It’s weird. I suppose it’s innately inside of me, but when I think about it, it makes no sense. A fear of death is a fear of the loss of future days. However, I’m not exactly craving future days, so this fear seems odd to me. I suppose it could also be a fear of the unknown, but since I’m no longer religious, I no longer care, so this is also odd to me. I do fear the effect my death will have on friends and family, especially if it’s apparent my death is a suicide. This one is tough to deal with because I have no desire to torment my loved ones. However, I also cannot continue to torment myself, so there appears to be no nice solution for this one.

While my fears may make me pause, they are not preventing me from taking action if the need arises. It’s more a matter of ease. Killing one day at a time is currently easier than killing myself. The moment that changes, I hope I’m armed with an effective method and ready to act.

The Crapchute of Life

Life's Crapchute 01

Alrighty, let me survey the world real quick… take a look at the old crapchute…

Life's Crapchute 02

Yikes! And yuck…

Life's Crapchute 03

Ouch and very ouch.

Life's Crapchute 04

Oh… Oh, geez. Is that…?

Life's Crapchute 05

Yep, it’s cake! I see cake! I love cake! And I’m sure Junior will, too. Ok, honey, it looks good to me. Let’s get this show started! And… push!

Life's Crapchute 06

OH GOD! OH GOD! SO MUCH PAIN!!! WHY ARE WE DOING THIS? WHY?!?! IS THIS SOME SORT OF HINT?!?!

Life's Crapchute 07

And he’s out! Way to go, honey! Oh yeah! I can almost taste it. Come on, cake. Cake, cake, cake!

Life's Crapchute 08

Uh oh, uh oh. Come on, fall to the right, little man!

Life's Crapchute 09

Ok, ok, that’s alright. It was an unlucky bounce, but he can just as easily bounce back. He’s fine. Everything is going to be ok…

Life's Crapchute 10

…Well, no, probably not anymore.

Life's Crapchute 11

Life's Crapchute 12

Damn, sucks to be him. Oh well. The important thing is that we didn’t do anything wrong. Wanna try again, babe? It sure was fun trying, huh?

Aphorism of the… Whatever

In this sad world, birth and suicide are much the same: someone else thinks they have the right to decide for another the question of life.

Shallow Water Blackout as Suicide Method Part III: Unfortunate Conclusions

Damn. Theoretically, this sounded so nice. And people have died from it, so it is possible. However, I’ve personally had zero luck with this. I have tried so many times and so many different ways to blackout by holding my breath after hyperventilating that I have lost track. I have done:

-different styles of hyperventilating (deep breaths, shallow breaths, forceful breaths, through the mouth, through the nose, chest breathing, diaphragm breathing)
-different rates of hyperventilating (20 breaths per min, 30 per min, 50, 60, 80, 100)
-different lengths of time of hyperventilating (30 sec, 1 min, 2 min, 3, 5, 6)
-hyperventilating and then, while holding my breath, exercising, standing, sitting, resting, submerging face in water…

And I haven’t even come close to blacking out. I always end up with an urge to breathe. I feel these uncomfortable contractions in my respiratory muscles, and then my breathhold is over.

I’ve been reading through some freediving websites (freediving is likely what started the fear of and the studies into shallow water blackout), and the general consensus is that hyperventilating delays these respiratory contractions but does not prevent them. And I completely agree; I am able to easily hold my breath longer after hyperventilating. Yay…

So why are freedivers so freaked out about this “horrifying” danger that I can’t get anywhere close to despite all my efforts? There are a couple of reasons. One, these guys train themselves to deal with these contractions. They effectively ignore them and just push through them. However, since hyperventilation indeed postpones these contractions, it likely screws up their timing; they might think they still have plenty of oxygen left when in reality they’re further along in their breathhold than they realize.

Two, these guys dive really deep into water, and as the water depth changes, so does the pressure. You can look up the science, but when these guys get closer to the surface after a deep dive, they have a higher chance of blacking out. So, unless you have access to a deep body of water as well as the physical ability to traverse to great depths, this aspect is probably irrelevant.

Thus, for freedivers (or other similar aquatic athletes), this is probably a worry. For the average guy, I’d be surprised. However…

Apparently, some people do not get these respiratory contractions. If that is your case, you (in my opinion) are lucky. I’m convinced this is the ideal suicide method. You likely won’t even realize you’re running out of breath, and then it’ll all just be over.

But for me and those like me, you’re going to notice these contractions and you’re going to want to breathe. And thus I must sadly conclude that this method is not what I hoped for. Not everyone is going to be able to do it. It is likely neither simple nor pleasant. It likely requires access to a body of water larger than a sink or tub. And it probably requires quite a bit of training and practice to pull off. (Apparently overcoming these contractions is just about distracting the mind…)

I haven’t yet decided if I’m crazy enough to train for this method. It still has some positive aspects when compared to other methods, but it just seems like such an irritating hassle. So much for being a quick and easy method.

“Hi, Fetus!”

I have the perfect solution. I don’t know where exactly it fits within the list of goals posted some time ago, but it’s probably between #1 and #2. However, it’s so great that it might just supplant them all. It solves everything. It’s even a compromise. Antinatalists will love it. Natalists will love it. It’ll make everybody happy. So what is this amazing thing?

Why, talking with fetuses!

Now whether this is achieved through means as high tech and futuristic as nanobots probing their brains and injecting them with viral DNA to execute a computer simulation in their minds or as low tech and commonplace as shoving our heads up the womb, let’s get in there and ask a couple of questions, the foremost of which would be: “Hey, Fetus, do you even wanna come out?”

So what does this achieve?

First of all, there’s an interesting consequence to being able to talk with this fleshy and bloody thing. Gone are the whines of people who are unable to handle possibilities and probabilities and projecting into the future. Does it exist? Why, yes it does! You can see it, and, though it’d be kinda gooey, you can even touch it! I guess that means we can even refer to it and talk about it! Geez, maybe we should consider its future? Because after 8 to 9 months of voodoo and black magic, it’s going to pop out as… a table? No, that’s not it. Oh my god, it’s a real human being! Whodathunk?

But even if that still requires too much forward thinking for some, the best part is that those people are removed from the equation entirely! This real human being soon to enter the world will have a chance to say, “No thanks, control freaks! You have no right to decide for me what is good and wonderful and glorious. You have no right to decide for me what costs can be glossed over or ignored. You can keep all your ~*~!Love!~*~ because it’s not worth all the murder and pain and death and suffering that comes with it. See ya! I’m aborting!”

And the other great thing is that this fetus can choose the opposite, too. After being presented with all the facts of existence and all the evidence of the world, it can still say, “Oh, hell yeaaaaaah!!!! Gimme, gimme, gimme! Can we speed up this process? Can I pop out of the womb right now? There’s people to exploit!”

And thus not only is a new baby born, but the greatest compromise as well. From the antinatalist perspective, we’re spared from a terrible, unwanted existence. There will still be pain in the world, but it certainly won’t be our problem, and at least it will be suffering that’s been personally selected by those who enter into it. From the natalist perspective, gone are all of those annoying punks who point out future suffering and lack of choice. They’ve been weeded out. Whenever you procreate, your hands are now clean because there are no longer any consequences. You are absolutely guaranteed to create a life-lusting babe who chose to exist regardless of the costs. Any suffering they go through is on them, not you.

And for those that claim this goal of talking to fetuses is unrealistic, I say: is this not a better goal for humanity to pursue than the usual ‘let’s see who can build the prettiest house’ or ‘let’s see who can cheat the most people’? Did I forget to mention that this would open up a world full of constant sex?!?! You know, that thing that makes life worth living and supposedly covers all the costs of existence? It would be the greatest paradise imaginable: no antinatalists (hey, that’s our paradise, too!) and never-ending ejaculation.

Living Nightmare

Ugh, where am I? And why is it so dark?

I groped around with my arm in the space before me but felt nothing.

How long have I been here? It feels like a long time. Feels like months. But why? Like seven months. Or maybe eight. I don’t know. I’m not really sure.

I tried to stretch my back, but it remained hunched. Ugh, and why am I so stiff? I can’t remember anything. Just why is it so hard to move? I tried to extend my legs, but they remained flexed. Geez, it hurts. So painful.

Pain. Now that’s something I remember. A lot of. Wait, I remember pain? Especially in my hands. Like I could never really use them. Oh my god, has it spread? Is that why I can’t move? A disease in my hands… Maybe it spread all over my body? Am I trapped in my own body?

I tried to move my right hand over to my left, but it was stuck. Panicked, I swung my other arm as hard as I could. I hit something. What was it? A wall? Am I in prison? But the wall felt weird, like it almost gave a little. Should I hit it again?

Wait, I hit something in the past. I hit something. No. No, I hit someone. Oh god, did I kill someone? Is that why I’m here?

I suddenly felt violently jostled. Was that an earthquake? But it felt more like… like a bump. Like I’m moving. Am I in transport? Transport…

Oh. Oh, geez. I felt my eyes swell with water. That’s right, now I remember. I was in a car. I hit another car. A car full of people. I think… No, I must have killed them. I’m in here for manslaughter. I was going fast, too fast. I drove right into them.

I… drove? No, how could I have? My hands. I couldn’t hold a wheel. Unless… Unless it was the crash that hurt me. Yes, that’s right. They were damaged in the crash. They were damaged when I tried to take the wheel.

What? I took the wheel? I wasn’t… I wasn’t driving? My breathing intensified. Who? Who was driving? She was. It was her. She was driving. But who is she? I can see her. I can see her right there! My eyelids pushed the tears back into my eyes. She’s important, she’s special… Come on! Why can’t I remember? Who is she? She’s precious. She’s…

I blasted the wall with my fist and beat it repeatedly. Oh god, she’s my wife! That was my wife! She fainted. But I… I wasn’t watching. The car swerved into the other lane. I tried to stop it. But it was too late. We hit that other car. And we spun and spun and spun. And…

She died. I wanted to help her. I wanted to hold her. But I couldn’t move my hands. She died. I watched.

I guess I died, too. This must be hell. Forever trapped, stuck with these awful memories of that horrible life.

My horrible life… I… I lived on? My tears burned up in my rage. Yes, that’s right. I lived on. And on. And on. Or rather I limped on in physical pain and in mental anguish. My love was gone. My friends went on with their lives. My parents died soon thereafter. It was just me. Me and my pain until the day that I died.

So I really am in hell. I got what, eight or nine months of peace and now torment? Ugh, and what is that damn noise? Is this part of the torture? That incessant beeping? Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Ugh. And… do I hear voices? More souls burning along with me? No, that’s not it. They sound different. They sound like… Oh god, no. Oh god, no! I’d rather be in hell! No, no, no! Anything but that! Noooooooooooowaaaaaaahhhh! Waaahhhhh! Waaaaahhhh!

“Oh, it’s a boy! A beautiful baby boy!”

Aphorism of the… Solstice

You have such a bright future ahead of you!!! Well, that is, until you die. Then it’s pretty dark…