50, second marriage.

I’m a woman now.

Well 15 year old me, you’ll figure it out in about two years.

I’m 29. I’d be surprised I’m still alive.

When I was a depressed and extremely suicidal teenager, I decided that if nothing had improved for me by the time I was 20, then I’d kill myself then. When I set that time limit, I already had a couple of failed attempts under my belt (unbeknownst to my family), and desperately wanted to die. However, I felt guilty for the pain that would cause, which is why the attempts only happened when I reached a crisis point.

I had read suicide support guidance that advised to try and put distance between yourself and the suicidal feelings, because even just a day or two can help to stabilise the situation. Well my response was to take this logic and apply it to an extreme level, with significant spite attached. My logic was that if indeed things were just as hopeless when I was 20, I would feel justified in killing myself, and fuck anyone who would begrudge me my escape at that point. I didn’t require things to be better-better by the time I was 20, I just needed something to change to show that it was still worth fighting.

Well, here I am, almost 10 years later, and I’m still alive. still struggle with suicidal ideation on a regular basis, and I suspect I will always have to keep an eye on my mental health. However, nowadays, when I get low, I don’t actively want to die like I used to. Instead, it’s usually a case of “I don’t want to die, but I know I can’t live like this”.

Ironically, I think that planning my death saved my life. There were countless times over my late teens where I would’ve been at risk of making another attempt on my life, but instead would self soothe by counting down how much time I had left to ensure. It did mean that my early 20s were a bit confusing, as I was living a life that I had planned without ever expecting that I’d get that far. And I still sort of feel like these past 10 years have been a massive bonus level that I’m half expecting to be swept away from me at any moment, but I’m still here.

There are other things I could have replied to this question with, but nothing will trump my surprise at still being alive (and wanting to be)

That I could love myself. That I’d be a productive member of society. That I’d be a square.

that I’m still exactly nowhere

That I’m driving an electric car. In highschool this would have felt impossible after GM blew up their lead.

I’d be astonished how I can feel existential uncertainty while having the salary I currently have.

40 now. At 20 I was a know-it-all crusader against having kids and now my two children are the absolute center of my universe.

I can’t even begin to explain the kind of joy these two kids create out of thin air. It’s simply beyond my ability to describe how much I love them and how grateful that I am to have met a woman I loved so much that it seemed wrong to not want to bring more of her into the world.

I am so fucking overwhelmed that my life turned out the way it has that I suffer from hidden imposter syndrome because I just don’t feel like I deserve to be this happy.

All I can do is try to be a worthy father and husband.

I was a rolling stone - drifting and drinking aimlessly through my 20s, backpacking, boozing and picking up weird jobs and weird people as I wandered through Europe and south east Asia. Now I’m an IT manager and married with 2 kids, a mortgage and a dog.

that I’m alive, i was 100% convinced in the 1980s i’d be dead by 2000, i’m now 58. and its 2026.

I honestly don’t know what the fuck happened; (

How much I’ve started to hate technology. It’s like I had smart phones before my peers had flip phones. Same with computers; let me go to the computer graveyard room and put one together for myself. My family was very into tech so I had a computer since I was 5.

I think at this point I’m just not into it. Same with cars; I like my almost thirty year old cars.

I still cannot belive I am married to my wife. She is amazing. She can basically solve any problem. She is a great mom. She helps me talk through my problems, she helps me make decisions, she can hold up her end of a conversation, and she is beautiful. I’ve always been fascinated by women in their late 30’s or 40’s that were still beautiful, and now I have one living in my house.

50 years old.

1. That I am as “successful” as I currently am. Measured by typical achievement of “The American Dream”.
2. Why the fuck do I live on a cul-de-sac in some boring-ass suburban neighborhood with literally zero charm or culture. I should be living on the top floor of some mixed-use urban building with a subway or light rail station across the street.
3. Most importantly, younger me would be so disappointed in my Christmas lights. Where are all the Christmas lights? I have a house. I can afford plenty of Christmas lights. Why are my house and yard and trees and bushes not absolutely doused in Christmas lights. Like Clark W. Griswold levels…you see younger me, it turns out that having a house is already a lot of stupid, unnecessary work, and then putting up Christmas lights and taking them down is even more work and I’m tired.

Probably how cool and popular I am. 17 year old me was pretty awkward and bad at socializing.

That I’m living on the other side of the world, that I not only am married, but married to a holy crap hot mom.

That I’m now also jobless due to AI

Age 50