Photo by Thomas Le on Unsplash

Listicle: A Baker’s Dozen Ways to Kill Myself

Trigger warning: Discusses methods of suicide. Duh.

This post does not advocate self-harm or suicide. If you have thoughts of suicide, please call a suicide hotline.

Or, maybe you are just being realistic in the face of the worsening climate catastrophe. This article explores the question, “When climate change creates intolerable living conditions for me, what is the best way for me to take a quick exit?”

It is Day 6 of a power outage as I begin writing this article, and I’m thinking about what happens when the day comes that the power doesn’t come back on, ever. (I’m not saying that day is soon … but it is soon.) When the propane tanker truck doesn’t arrive to refill my tank. When all three roads into and out of my little redwood forest enclave are blocked by fallen trees and downed power lines. When the grocery store shelves are bare and the gas station tanks are empty. How shall I make my final exit?

Let’s explore. The first two items are my faves, the rest are in random order.

X. Suffocation by inhaling inert gas. This is my favorite, but it is, unfortunately, no longer practical. It seems that the helium tanks you can get from Amazon or at the local party store to fill you party balloons now have enough oxygen added to prevent suffocation. When I had my cancer 15 years ago, this was not true, and I acquired two helium tanks (two for redundancy) in case the cancer got bad. The way it works is that the body does not notice as the helium replaces the oxygen in my system, so there is no gasping and gagging like being strangled. Ah well.

Sidebar: From the Final Exit Network website FAQ:

Where do I buy the kit (or hood)?
In 2011, the FBI raided the home of Sharlotte Hydorn, who made hoods for use with helium. Her hoods are no longer available and we are not aware of anyone else offering anything similar.

Can I still use party balloon kit helium?
Most party balloon kits now contain a helium-air mixture and should NOT be used for self-deliverance.

1. Slit my wrists in the bath. Run a nice warm, comfy bath, with bubbles, please. Light some candles; put on some pleasant music. Lower my body into the bath and relax. Take a box cutter with a new blade and slice one or both of my wrists. (Like a pro: “Up the alley, not across the street.”) Think sweet thoughts as my life slips gently away. Am told this is how Roman aristocrats did it.
2. Cut my throat. Take a sharp knife and slice my jugular vein. That’s on the right side of my neck, near the front, isn’t it? I think that’s better than a straight slice across the front of my throat. In any case, then bleed out. I would do it in the redwood forest just outside my house for minimal cleanup. This method feels like actually a pretty good one. But I’m going to have to find out exactly where my jugular vein is.
3. Fall on my sword. Speaking of Roman aristocrats, the macho types had a habit of literally falling on their swords, especially over a matter of lost honour. My partner Misha collects fantasy stuff including several very impressive replica swords, so I am equipped for this death. But I don’t have the “stomach” for it, ha-ha. She also has light sabres, but those are just plastic so they won’t do the job.
4. Swim to China. This was my favourite fantasy exit for a long time. (I’ve been suicidal ideatin’ pretty much all my life. Yet I’ve still made it to 68 years old.) In this scenario, I go to a deserted beach on the nearby Pacific Ocean, kick off my shoes (I’ll leave my clothes on, they will help tire me out and drag me down), point my nose west, and start swimming. Chances are good that I won’t make it to China. But this is really more of a romantic fantasy. In reality, the water is quite cold and nasty tasting, and I’m told drowning is a horrible death. (Maybe not so bad if I intend to die?)
5. Hanging. I’m totally not there for dangling in the air bicycling my legs, grabbing desperately at the rope, choking and gagging. So no kicking the chair out for me. But I think my deck is high enough that, if I get the length of the rope just right, I can likely break my neck. To be even more certain, I could tie a rope to my chimney and jump off the roof. However, I don’t think I have the courage for it. This scenario is not for a death of despair, in which I simply don’t care anymore; it is one of practicality.
6. Gunshot. We don’t keep a gun in the house, but I could just wait for a marauding gang to come around to take my stuff. I suppose they would be happy to oblige me. Seems like a nice, quick way to go. But, even if I did have access to a gun, I’d still not like this method because of the mess it makes for somebody else to witness and clean up.
7. Sleeping pills. They say it is tricky to get the dose right. And there is the risk of spoiling it by vomiting. I do hope that, at some point, when people are dying by the tens of millions of starvation and pandemic, that they make an over-the-counter suicide pill kit available for purchase. Or free from the government, like COVID test kits. (The Australian government does so in the justly famous 1957 Nevil Shute novel On The Beach, where lethal radiation from the nuclear holocaust that wiped out the northern hemisphere is steadily creeping south.)
8. Heroin overdose. This strikes me as a great way to go. I’ve often wondered why they don’t use it for state executions. But I’ve never done heroin and I don’t have any contacts for illegal drugs.
9. Drano cocktail. Or other poison. The worst stomach cramps of my life? No thanks. Not even if they are my last stomach cramps ever.
10. Jump off the Golden Gate Bridge. A very romantic option, but not my cup of tea. Also afraid I would be one of the “lucky” ones who doesn’t die. I don’t really know of any other appropriately high places I have access to. Besides, if it were to be out of a hotel window or other skyscraper, it’s just awfully messy, in’t it? Even if you do always, always, always land on the roof of a vehicle, as movies and television teach us. But I do ponder whether I could enjoy the trip down as a peaceful, “I’m flying!” interlude, or if I would be shrieking in sheer terror.
11. Starvation. Just stop eating. They say it’s not so bad after the first few days, but I’ve also heard it’s incredibly bad until very near the end, which could be up to three months later. Dying of thirst shortens the ordeal to about one week, but is said to be even more excruciating. Either way, too much suffering for me. Of course, I could die this way anyway, not as suicide but just because there is no food available. Whatever happens, I am definitely not eating Misha!
12. Solo car accident. While driving at high speed, steer into an overpass abutment. Or off a cliff (the Toonces method). This is an attractive approach because it can be executed on an impulse, and it is pretty certain death if you get the speed and/or cliff high enough. In fact, I sometimes get scared because this thought occasionally enters my mind when I’m driving at high speed. But I don’t think I’ll go this way. Too much drama. I’m a no-drama mama. (Technically, I’m not a mama, but the rhyme is nice. Happy Mothers Day, by the way.)

Bonus death: Suicide by Cop. Charge at an armed police officer brandishing a large knife or one of Misha’s swords, or maybe a toy gun. Helps if you are Black. I’m not Black, so death is not certain. In addition, it is massively unfair to the poor cop.

Dear Reader, feel free to share your favourite suicide method in the comments. Please do not “try to talk me out of it.” I’m not killing myself this year. I’m planning for an inevitable future.

Peace out.

— Lannie Rose, May 2023
preferred pronouns: she/her/hers
Not written by ChatGPT or other AI (though I am using Chattie as a research assistant more and more)