The Second Time I Committed Suicide

The second time was around September last year. On that day, I was standing in my kitchen when I finally decided to do it. I’d been contemplating it for months but on that day, I just knew that it was time. You know how you feel when you really make your mind up to do something, and it’s almost like you’ve already done it? That’s the way I felt that day standing in my kitchen.

My mind was made up.

The next day, I did it. I committed suicide. And I immediately felt…alive, just like I did the first time.

Suicide is defined as "the act of killing oneself intentionally". I'm going to modify that definition because I can. I define suicide as "the act of dying intentionally". Then means does not matter.

Why would someone want to intentionally die? They say that suicide is an indication that something was gravely wrong in a person’s life. They say that a significant loss of a loved one, job, or social status makes one more susceptible to taking one’s own life.

For some, this may be true, but not for me. Nothing was wrong. I hadn’t lost anything, in fact, I was profiting in various aspects of my life especially at work. For me, the cause of my first suicide was the fact that I was in a place too small for me. I was working in a job that I had outgrown. I was doing work that felt constricting and claustrophobic. I was maturing and the cocoon was too tight. It was time to break free.

I committed suicide the day that I told my boss, “I’m resigning”. In that moment the life that I'd created, nourished and maintained as an HR specialist was on its death bed. Eventually, it died.

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I had no job. I also had no plan, and there was nothing but uncertainty ahead of me. I imagine that’s what physical death is. Just openness and potential that I am wholly unaware of.

The first time I committed suicide I surprisingly discovered that death does not kill me. If anything, it made me notice my enormous, dare I say 'limitless' capacity...something I never noticed before. Therefore, I was prepared to do it again. 

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The culmination of what we call “life” is not only physical. There are various aspects of "life" and living a long life is about more than how old you are when you physically die. 

A long life is a lived life.

A long life is a life full of authentic moments. 

A long life can be lived in 1 year or 99 years.

It’s not the number that matters…it’s the unique pattern and authenticity of the moments. No one will ever live a life like mine. Today, I’m choosing to live a long life. And yes, I may have to die, to do it.

And that's perfectly fine.