Wednesday, 10 February 2016

Happily Suicidal

Find me on twitter @MattStreuli
I should be happy. Yet all I can think about it how I empty my future is and my lack of enthusiasm for it.

I met with my psychologist on Friday who I mentioned in my article for The Guardian. He was really happy with the article especially as we live in world all too quick to complain and too slow to compliment. I explained that the 'conflict' (my disability discrimination complaint) is still ongoing and the system seemingly biased towards the employer.

Financially, I am OK for now but what happens when this debacle rolls on for another few weeks or months? I've applied for jobs but I agree with my Psychologist who I felt was being very honest when he said it would be a shame if I could not making writing, talking and presenting especially on mental health into a career.

The problem is, how the hell do I get there?
I have been writing a mental health blog for almost a year after suffering disability discrimination at work and then surviving a suicide attempt. I am looking to do more work with the media and I would also be interested in events such as ‘After Dinner Speaking’. As mentioned in my article in The Guardian, I have been a pantomime dame for almost 5 years so performing a script or ‘ad libbing’ in front of an audience is almost second nature. 
Life has drained the enthusiasm from me - so why would I keep fighting? Where would I draw the strength to do more?
Click pictures to view fullscreen

My mind keeps throwing up this idea that it's time to resign from life. I've done enough. For more opportunities you have to be in the right place at the right time or know the right person; so do I just keep shouting out the window and annoying retweeting this blog?

If I had cancer, I would have the right to refuse treatment. To slowly let the disease I've been fighting kill me. So when can I turn off my life machine? When can I shut down my life?


12 months ago on this blog I spoke about Post Panto Blues and this quote is still relevant and makes me realise I suffer more than the 'Post Show' blues: "I would kill myself in exactly the same way we euthanase pets when it’s the ‘kind’ thing to do. Why am I any different to your cat?"

In last week's post I spoke about how our pantomime had been a brilliant success with each cog working together so well.

There were some silly little issues that in pantomime past would of been key triggers to a black patch however they seemed to have minimal effect; I assume thanks to therapy and medication. I am so proud of the club and every member. Some of those people are amazingly talented and beautiful - not just in looks but also how they treat others. At the moment I am due to produce and direct the summer play for the youth team but how I can lead them feeling the way I do.



I've been ignoring messages from people because I couldn't face processing what they might of said - to the point where I've ignored invites to events. The only person I've spoken to in the past 24 hours is my cat - and if it wasn't for having to get medication and bread I could easily go several days in isolation.

Have you ever stared off into the distance? Found yourself having a dream but you're awake? They have happened to me a few times since my last post. In one I was driving a Transit van with a lift on the roof. I parked opposite the entrance to my old work and lowered myself on a noose from the cradle. In another I sat in the middle of road and reenacted the famous immolation photograph from the Second World War. Either way I get to end my life and it would mean something. You only ever hear suicides on the news as a footnote for delays on your local rail line or motorway. Did you know Grant Shapps, a Tory MP resigned after a member of the youth team committed suicide over bullying?
I'm not sad or low. If anything, I feel content. I've had a good crack at it and would leave a good impression on this Earth. - Read more from last week's post here
I know you really don't want me to be sad or for me to die. You may say to me how much hurt it would cause and how much fun we've had. It's better to rip the plaster off. I keep thinking about going to 'A and E' and asking to be admitted but I've heard the horror stories. I think I'd rather die at home.

A photo posted by Matthew E Streuli (@matthewstreuli) on

http://mattstreuli.tumblr.com/post/138825575112/thank-you-clairelouisef1989-champagne-from-the