Stuck in that limbo space between "they just got done saying to take care of yourself and reach out, go ahead and ask for help if you're in a bad place tonight," and "you're incredibly toxic and horrible for thinking about anybody but the bereaved."

I don't know what I'm allowed to say and what I'm not, but here goes: for people who have been in that danger zone, it can be hard not to look at this and go "wow, all I have to do to be forgiven is die?"

Again, I'm not in any danger. My mom and my partner root me pretty firmly in this reality, because I have obligations dammit, and I dare not spread the contagion of despair any further than my own vaults.

But yeah. I still feel pretty broken after my own suicide threat this summer, and I still ideate. A lot. (And if your solution is "see a therapist," so help me, I will end you. That is a complex prospect right now, and a glib solution.)

But if we're gonna talk about this, let's talk about it. Depression and suicidal risk are intensely alienating and isolating, and feeling like you've been tossed in the "Trouble Box" is one of the worst parts.

Let's not pretend we don't do this to people. Let's not pretend I haven't done this to people. Let's not pretend it's not normal and understandable. Let's not pretend it doesn't still make a state of despair and worthlessness a lot worse.