In my not-bridge but rather lengthy 'okay, here we go'/irreversable experience, the awareness of actually dying came on slowly, but with instinctual certainty. It was immediately clear, after becoming aware of it, that that's what that new feeling was- there was now a raw and primal knowingness of death making it's way through my body.

This understanding was so profound, that I cant even use the word 'undeniable'. It emerged fully formed as an internalized truth, to which many of the ideas I had about myself, my needs, my wants, my situation, and my flaws, became immediately compared.

It instantly cut through a lifetime of layered dramatic bullshit and egocentric narrative, and as a real truth- the hardest of realities, as it were- it carved out and revealed the biggest lie I had ever told and believed about myself. That I wanted to die.

I had some excellent self-approved reasons for being where I was. A past that would never change, a self I couldn't change, and an inevitable future too painful to bear. It had all seemed rather sound, a logical and practical decision. I was convinced that death was not only the answer, but the right answer, the honorable, loving, self-sacrificing and dare I say quietly heroic thing to so. A final act of goodness and charity from a steaming bag of infectious waste, disposing of itself to save any present and future friends and loved ones the horrors and grotesque mutations of contact contamination.

Apparently, fuck all of that. In the face of true death- as opposed to a romanticized idealization- something new sparked and rose out of my primal core. The survival instinct, most likely, a tremendously powerful feeling, like an elder god rising from the depths to protect its home. And suddenly, I knew that I did not want to die. Not even a little. It was all just a story I'd been telling myself for forever, so often and so passionately, I'd come to believe it was true. I could see through the plotholes and unreliable narration, its errors were obvious, but it was all too late, because I had just written the mother of all cheques, and that debt was coming due.

Despite the raw power of the incumbent champion, I was losing the fight. Not wanting to die was not going to win it, and so the need to survive changed my mind. Literally. I went from not wanting to die, to wanting to live. And that in turn began using the same rationalization skills to find reasons to live instead of the other way around. It turns out, I could absolutely let some of this guilt and trauma go, I could make things right, I could change, I could become better. A lot of the things I didnt think I could do were because I didn't want to do them, and now that wanting to live was tippy-top priority, they were in fact, very doable. I started seeing solutions instead of problems because that's what I was looking for.

Just me and the demons for hours and hours, and holy fuck did that come close. I sank all the way down into the black, barely a thought or two left, just holding on. I dont know how long I was down there, clinging to that last thread of life, felt like forever. Eventually, it eased. I could feel the tipping point, where I stopped fading away and started coming back. After a short while of that, I knew, again on that primal, instinctual level, that I wasn't dying anymore. I held on for another length of time- there'd been some ebb and flow, and I needed to make sure I was back on solid ground. When I knew it was safe, I let myself slip into unconsciousness. Slept for more than a day.

Woke up a changed man. Happy, upbeat, hurtin, but only physically- inside I felt great. Better than I could ever remember feeling. There were lots of up and downs as I did the things I needed to do, but overall it was a change of heart, and that lasted for a fair number of years. Never got down to that place again. Lesson earned.