This Is What Dreams Are Made Of
On not wanting to die
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CW: suicidal ideation, self-harm
I spent most of my teenage years thinking about wanting to die. There were days I tried to die and summers in hospitals because I didn’t quite die. The last time I wanted to die was in 2020. It was right before the 2020 election and before I was medicated for my OCD. I was sitting on my couch, sobbing in my partner’s lap in our Austin home about how I was too scared to vote because of the risk of catching COVID, but how I knew if I didn’t go and Trump won, I would have blamed myself (isn’t mental illness wild?) ((I did end up voting, by the way)). I was on the couch, picking at my skin until I bled, banging my hands against my head, and begging my partner to let me ‘Capital L’ Leave because I couldn’t handle ‘Capital I’ It.
I’ve had suicidal ideation since I was a child. I was convinced I would die by the time I turned 17 and when I turned 18, I was convinced I wouldn’t live until 21. When I turned 21, I told myself I’d be dead by 25. Whenever someone asked me to envision myself at 30, 40, or 80 – I couldn’t. The thing about having suicidal ideation is that it’s hard to dream. I could only envision what was immediately in front of me, and even that was difficult at times.
The other day, my partner asked me what my dream kitchen looks like. Whenever he asks me, I offer to show him my Pinterest board and tell him I want something bright, open, and airy. He’s been sharing with me a dream of living somewhere where we build a timber-frame house that can hold all our friends and family, grow all the food we need to survive, and want to have chicken and sheep. I asked him when he thought that would happen, and he said, “Probably in the next 10 years.”
I don’t know how to dream about 10 years from now. When he asks me about my dream kitchen in the house we currently live in, I tell him I don’t even know how we’ll afford a renovation in the next five years. Not only that, but being able to create a home that is uniquely mine is something I’m just now getting acquainted with and each room feels like such a task. It’s hard to dream because all the kitchens I’ve known most of my life are tiny, brown, and barely functional, but I’ve made do.
While I don’t want to die anymore, death is still something I think about every day. My heart almost stopped in 2021, and I’ve been scared of every slight chest pain since. I don’t know how to reckon with the fact that I used to want to die every day, and now I’m terrified of it. Sometimes I’m so scared of dying that I want to die about that, too. I really am okay (I promise), but I’m scared to dream of my dream kitchen because I don’t want to be disappointed.
My dream kitchen has a big island with a butcher block countertop with enough room to seat at least 6 or 8 people. I want a skylight and a window above my kitchen sink to watch the birds. I want a farmhouse sink, an induction stove to cook with precision, and a pot filler faucet. I want either green or white cabinets and open shelves to display my cookbooks and the collection of soup mugs I’ve gathered over the years. I want my kitchen to be where everyone comes to laugh during the holidays and where my friends sit when they share life-altering news. I want enough storage for all my soup pots and sheet trays for roasting vegetables.
To dream out loud is to commit to the possibility of being alive long enough to see it come to fruition. Everything that’s happened to me until this point is the culmination of wanting to stay alive just long enough to do what has to happen next. The truth is, I may die the next time I get into my car (an uncertainty I have to let my OCD sit with), and my body may deteriorate faster than I want it to, but I don’t actively want to die. Sometimes I don’t want to be here, but on those days, I call my therapist, get Thai takeout, and watch Real Housewives. And on the days I really don’t want to be here, I tell someone, and they hold me. But most days, I am here and committed to making dreams come true.
Some days I’m still not sure I’m going to make it to 30, but that’s only two years from now and I can say with confidence that if I don’t make it, it won’t be on account of my own two hands. Now, I want to watch my husband build a timber frame house. I want to recover from my contamination OCD and clean out a chicken coop one day. I want to have a house big enough to host an art residency. I want to look out of the window when I’m washing dishes after cooking everyone soup and say to myself, “this is what dreams are made of.”
Note: Suicidal ideation is extremely complex, nuanced, and is a conversation happening in tandem with intersectionality. Suicide prevention must be approached with a political lens rooted in liberation, anti-oppression, anti-racism, and an acknowledgment of collective trauma. Suicide prevention must be holistic, meaning we must heal through supportive communities, trauma-informed care, and reclamation of personal and collective agency.
Support for the Club Q Families and Survivors.
To my queer & trans community, I love you. I’m honestly at a loss for words and am so mad and am supposed to do an edit test for a potential job where I’m supposed to be “funny & quirky* & I cannot muster up any energy to do so. Note to self & you: you have permission to lay low & log off & tend to your inner circles.
This essay about the ZZ plant made me weep.
“Why do Hot Girls have stomach issues? Because we live in a society where being hot means never being bloated.” This is a must-read.
I’m reading this book right now.
The Healing Field Notes Podcast (formerly Curiosity Corner) is getting a glow-up. Starting next week, you can expect a monthly podcast episode completely separate from the bi-weekly offerings you already receive in your inbox. I have received feedback that y’all enjoy the audio offering, but would love it autonomous to the essays I send out. Your dreams are coming true. Stay tuned for next week’s podcast. You can expect an episode of the Healing Field Notes podcast to drop the last week of the month. You can still anonymously ask questions here.
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Love,
SOBBING!!!! may the dream kitchen be so! you were scared and did it anyways! you dreamt it right in front of us! blessed be
Sam, thank you so much for this. I've never been able to put my suicidal ideation into words, but this helps. I resonate so much with the never being able to plan for ten years or five years. Thank you thank you thank you for your willingness to be open and write for others, it is noticed and appreciated.