I routinely, randomly think about harming myself. "Passive suicidal ideation" is the technical term. Mostly it's because I tire of hassling with my mood. I'm wearied with what seems like the constant struggle to get through my day and take care of the obligations of semi-responsible adulthood, only to wonder, when the day winds down, what I've gained or why I've bothered. Life holds no intrinsic value for me, though I realize this isn't the perspective of most people. The idea that one should be pleased solely because one is alive is alien to me; I usually feel the reverse.
I've tried to hurt myself seriously twice in my life, and I barely survived the second attempt well over a decade ago. However, I really don't think I'm at any risk for another attempt. While I might not think much of life, I have a well-developed fear of pain, the experience of death and the unknown. I actually believe I've been more sanguine as I've stayed sober and made other positive changes. (Contrary to my attitude here.) But then it's often hard for me to have perspective when it comes to my moods. I think I'm just in a low arc of the seemingly ever-present shadow of P.A.W.S.
Personal Roundup
In spite of all my gloom & doom, I've been doing fairly well. As of my last weighing, I've lost a total of 11 pounds since my latest spike, although I made the mistake of calculating my BMI. I still have to lose 27 more pounds to go from obese to just fat.
Days sober: 7 months, 17 days
Weight: 242 pounds
Debt: Still don't want to think about it...
