The “Suicide Disease”

By Tom Neal
Bigfoot Trails Basecamp | Independent Adventure Media

If you or anyone you know is dealing with what they call the “suicide disease,” do me a favor: go easy on them.

I can tell you firsthand, this shit sucks.

I’m seven months into this nightmare and four months post-brain surgery, and I’m still fighting every single day.

My “new normal” is unpredictable. Some days I can get out there and do some light work; other days I can handle a medium load. But the trade-off is brutal — I’m usually bedridden for two or three days straight afterward.

To anyone else going through this: listen to your body.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m bad at taking my own advice. I still try to push through the pain because I feel the “need” to get things done, but I always pay for it ten times over.

When I overdo it, I don’t just hurt — I lose the ability to function for days.

The Darkest Days

I’m going to be 100% real with you: there are days I wish I wouldn’t have made it out of surgery.

I am not a suicidal person.

I’ve seen firsthand the destruction suicide leaves behind. I watched a close buddy take his own life on his birthday, and I know the deep, permanent pain it inflicts on the people who love you.

It might end your pain, but it just passes it on to your family for years to come.

But I’ve been to that lower-than-low point.

I know exactly what it feels like when you’re looking at a pistol or a bottle of pills just to make the physical torture stop.

Between the severe pain, the medical bullshit, and the people who doubt what you're going through, it wears you down.

If you’re there right now, stay in the fight.

Reach out to somebody. Tell them exactly where you are mentally. Get someone beside you. Do whatever you need to do to get through that moment.

You don't have to figure out the rest of your life right then.

You just have to get through that moment.

Scale of Pain

Even as I write this, I’m hitting multiple flare-ups of severe pain — the kind that brings a grown man to his knees from a seated position.

I’ve passed five kidney stones in my life. I’ve talked to women who’ve had both kids and kidney stones, and they all said they’d rather have another kid than a stone.

Well, I’m telling you right now:

Kidney stones are like splinters compared to this.

I don’t have all the answers yet.

But as I find them, I’ll post them here.

Until then, hang in there and keep your head up.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tom Neal is the founder of Bigfoot Trails Basecamp, an independent adventure media project built around real experiences. He’s spent most of his life around vehicles, motorcycles, racing, travel, and projects that tend to take longer and cost more than originally planned.

After decades of doing all that stuff, he’s learned that the best stories usually aren’t the ones you planned. They’re the people you meet, the places you stumble across, the things that go wrong, and the moments you never expected.

That’s what he wants to capture with BTB.

He doesn’t want to write about adventure from the outside. He wants to go experience it, then tell you what happened.

Bigfoot Trails Basecamp | Independent Adventure Media