________  ________  ________
   2019-10-14                                   /        \/        \/    /   \
                                               /       __/         /_       _/
   On  TV, in  movies and fiction, and often  /        _/         /         /
in life suicide is the  last  resort of  the  \_______/_\___/____/\___/____/_
hopelessly  desperate.  The  people  crushed    /        \/        \/    /   \
under the misery of overwhelming depression,   /        _/         /_       _/
tormented or abused to the point they see no  /-        /        _/         /
other  option or so  trapped by pain that to  \________/\________/\___/____/
take their own life is their only chance  to
escape.

   But often it doesn't need to get that bad for those thoughts to creep in.

   One of  the reasons depression,  anxiety and  similar mood disorders are so
insidious is that they are completely  illogical, they are a mind  at war with
itself and in that  environment sometimes even a thing that at a glance  looks
like a good thing can be construed as a negative.

   I want to speak candidly a minute but I want to preface this with a request
if I can, because I know this community pretty well. We like to solve puzzles,
we like to fix problems, we like to build and we like to help each  other  out
but this  is one of those cases  where  you're gonna need to tread lightly. As
always,  I'm happy to discuss  things like this and  would  love  to hear from
anyone but I'm  not interested in any  suggestions or  have-you-tried feedback,
though  I  know  you'll  mean  well.  I  love  y'all  and  I'm  OK,  I'm  just
bloodletting.

   I've had  a few  bad episodes  and I've  had  a  handful  of worse than bad
episodes but  very,  very rarely  have  they  brought  me  anywhere  close  to
genuinely  entertaining something so final  as suicide. What  I'm finding does
far more frequently is the feeling that this is it. It's all I get.

   I  work  full time  and  my job  is  stable,  I'm married  to a  wonderful,
beautiful girl, my  door locks  my water  is clean,  my food  is good  and  my
heating  works. I really have nothing to feel bad about but I  feel bad anyway
because I have nothing to feel bad about.

   It's like a deep underlying sadness that this is all there is forever. Eat,
sleep, shit, work, fuck, smoke, repeat  until the heat death  of the universe.
Nothing gets  worse,  nothing gets better.  It all  just happens  and  nothing
matters.

   A kind of overwhelming nihilistic ennui.

   Between the  heavy  lead  coat  of depression and  frantic animal static of
anxiety, sometimes it's the exhausting,  endless hours of "normal life" that I
find the hardest to endure.



EOF