I worry about publishing this one because I don’t want to scare anyone. When I’m low, this is what my suicidal ideation looks like. It feels like…


The sense of relief is hard to describe. But it’s the relief of everything not hurting anymore. That’s what I’m fantasizing about – making the hurting stop. It’s a certain kind of codeine for my emotional state.


I’m fortunate that I’ve had enough therapy to recognize that this is not a healthy thing to do, but like quitting smoking it takes a lot of practice to get away from and develop better habits. Someday I’ll learn to rely more on my support network than on fantasies of death, but for now it’s still a work in progress.

↓ Transcript
A single panel with a bubble in the upper left reading "Bipolar & Me" with Jaydot's smiling face.

Jaydot lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling, as Depression, a weird creepy wormy creature says to her, "Hey let's lay in bed and think about all the ways we wish we were dead."

Above Jaydot's head, pictures of her dead body cycle through, labeled appropriately: In A Hospital With A Terminal Illness, In A Tomb, In The Tub, In A Ditch.