By Abby Hinostroza
*Content warning: This piece discusses suicidal thoughts, self-harm and mental health*
Food, water and oxygen—these are all answers people would say if asked what the necessities for survival are. But if you ask me, love is something no-one can survive without. Loving someone is considered one of the greatest gifts in life, whether it’s a family member, a friend, or a romantic partner. It can be spoken in a thousand different tongues and shown in a thousand different ways. Unfortunately, there are also a thousand different ways it can hurt. Losing a loved one is a pain no one should have to experience, but we all do. The misery, the heartache, and the realisation that you’ll never see them again in this lifetime, are things we all dread. I think that’s what makes love—for someone with suicidal thoughts—a tormenting, yet extraordinary, experience.
To love and be loved while living with suicidal thoughts is a never-ending loop of pain, guilt, tenderness, and forgiveness. You are constantly aware of how badly you are hurting your partner, yet you’re also hurting so deeply yourself, which makes it even harder to cope. From the moment you let them in and show them the pain you have endured, you worry that they will leave your life as quickly as they entered it. Every day you look at the scars on your skin and wonder how anyone could find you attractive. You think to yourself, they must only be with you because they want something; there’s no way they would want you for everything that you are.
After the initial confession, you can feel them begin to walk on eggshells around you, so you start to retreat even more. You put up a barricade for your thoughts and emotions, closing the very door that needs to remain open in a relationship. Why? Because they never signed up for a partner like this. You can’t talk about all the nights you spend sitting with yourself in your room not knowing what to do, not knowing whether this will be your final night alive or the moment of realisation that maybe you should stay. You can’t speak of all the times you have tried to stop, but your body betrays your resolve, and before you know it there’s one more scar on your arm. You know your thoughts are too loud and heavy to bear, whether your partner wants to admit it or not. The cycle of self-torment begins again, and suddenly you’re spiralling.
Perhaps that’s the hardest part.
I constantly find myself thinking that anyone who talks to me is only doing so out of pity. I struggle to convince myself that someone could genuinely enjoy talking to me or want to spend time with me. It feels safer not to let myself believe that, because if I allow myself to have that hope, I worry I’ll only end up disappointed.
I want so badly to open up, yet somehow the words refuse to come out of my mouth. Until one night, when the sun has set and the lights are out, they say those three words that mean everything. That’s when suddenly, out of nowhere, I unravel. I let out everything that I’ve been keeping in. Everything I’ve longed to say but never found the words. Now I can find the words, and sometimes simple reassurance is all that’s needed. I use my words and my voice to express the genuine love and admiration we have for each other. In that moment, I understand that no matter what, they will be there. Love will be there.
It’s moments like these where you realise that there are people out there who view you as what you are. A person. A human being who has been through something no one should ever have to. Someone who has fought so many battles to get to where they are today. Not some broken, fragile porcelain doll who’s one trigger away from falling apart. They want you for everything you were, everything you are, and everything you will become.
Though it may be a constant battle of love and loss, loving as a suicidal person has taught me to treasure the feeling so much more. Whether it’s by saying “I love you”, “je t’aime”, “eu te amo”, “kuyayki”, or just sitting in comfortable silence together, the love we give others is never meaningless. Through the eyes of someone who loves a person living with suicidal thoughts, you may see unwavering dedication. But from the eyes of a suicidal person, you will see the exact same, because love has no bounds. It is the one thing that makes survival worthwhile. You need to learn that your scars are not your shame. They are your story. Perhaps you just need to fall in love with someone who loves stories.
