Suicide: There is Always Another Option

As she looked out at the ocean, as the waves crash down onto the sand, she could feel her thoughts fight with themselves. The thoughts going left and right, as she begins to imagine them as lines toppling over each other, trying to reach the top. She can feel the deep sinking feeling of noticing what the thoughts say – it is worthless to keep going, you will forever be unwell, it won’t change, what is the point… She can feel them all scrambling for attention as she tries to wince them away.

Beyond the thoughts, all she knows is she can feel this deep sense of heaviness – an invisible load that she carries around everywhere that nobody else can see. She never thought she would be in this position, thinking about ending her life, she never thought she would be one of them again.

As she contemplates the thoughts, she knows she shouldn’t, but she just doesn’t feel as though she knows what other options she has when she wants to escape how she truly feels.

She continues to look out at the waves, as the thoughts consume her, with the intensity of a desire of something she would never have imagined herself doing. How could she do it to those that she loves? How will she say goodbye?

The waves crash down in front of her, one after another, resembling what she feels inside. As she looks out at the water rise across the sand, she shudders to herself, thinking about how much she hated going into the ocean water when she was a kid. She always liked the idea of being a beach kid but could never get over the dislike of the cold water, the salty feeling, and not being able to see where her feet were standing on the ocean floor.

She notices a thought to herself that said I cannot think of anything worse than going in that water, then that’s when a light bulb moment happened.

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It wasn’t a single moment in time that I suddenly became unwell. It was progressive and accumulative, but this insight only became conscious through hindsight.

At the time, I knew maybe I was a little stressed, maybe a little wired, and couldn’t quite figure out why I was always feeling "under the weather". The chest aches, the headaches, the fatigue, the dizziness, the nausea – it must be something physical, I used to say to myself. ?

Although it wasn’t sudden, it felt sudden. I went from one day feeling “a little stressed” to experiencing my first panic attack the next. Very shortly after this, it was whirlwind between the psychologist, psychiatrist, medication, therapy, being off work, and before I knew it, I couldn't see myself being here anymore. ?

Not because I wanted to do it, but because it was just too hard to live. I just wanted to escape and find a solution to a problem that I was struggling to figure out another way of managing.

I remember the moment really clearly when I thought of my “Plan B” clearly. Plan B was not purposed as being the second option, but “Plan B” was just allowing me to realise I had another option.

At this point in time, I was at a point of being unwell that I was barely able to leave the house. I was so anxious about everything. My thoughts were irrational, I was assuming the worst, and most of all, amongst it all, I really struggled to see how it was going to get any better. I really struggled finding hope.

I remember standing at Cronulla, staring at the ocean, thinking about what I should do. I notoriously do not like the ocean. I like the idea of it, but not the reality of it. I remember looking out at the waves, watching someone run into the water. I shuddered to myself, saying to myself…I can’t think of anything worse I could do. Then I realised, if I really wanted to do what I was thinking of doing, I told myself I had to run into the freezing cold water first.

So, it created what I called my "Plan B" that I told myself I had to do first if I wanted to take "Plan A". Not because I wanted to, but because I knew deep down that I wouldn’t.

It was my way of saving myself.

Whenever I had a thought about "Plan A", I thought about the water, and told myself again, you have to go into the freezing cold water if you want to do that, and time and time again, it put me back into place. Back to remembering the psychologist telling me “give us time and we will get you better”; back to the GP’s office “trust me, recovery is possible; back to the psychiatrist “we will help you”.

I am not saying this is a perfect technique or way of handling it for anyone else. But, as I reflect on my situation, how I felt, and how much I wanted to do something that would have broken many hearts, I think about the fact that at the time, I didn’t see another option, but, looking back, I can see so clearly that there was always another option – there was always a thousand and one things I could have done before I did the one option that I wouldn’t be able to take back.

There is always a Plan B. There is always another option. Sometimes we just might need some help realising it.

Camille Wilson is the founder of?Grow Together Now ?and partners with companies as a lived experience speaker, author and consultant on engaging with mental health in the workplace.