Nix McRetro
Content warning: Suicidal ideation and childhood trauma
I’ve lived with suicidal ideation for as long as I can remember, largely owing to childhood trauma. Having a background in biomedical science probably didn’t help matters. It gave me the knowledge to research things I really shouldn’t have needed to. Even at my lowest, I had deliberately left a few pieces of the puzzle missing to prevent myself from making an impulsive decision.
By early to mid 2023, things had deteriorated significantly. Over several months I researched and collected what I intended to use to end my life. Even my perfectionism got involved, with me obsessing over a 3D-printed component. Apparently that part of my brain doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.
Then came 18th October 2023. By that point I had everything I thought I needed to end my life. But I didn’t go through with it. Instead, I came out as transgender to my friends and family, and for what felt like the first time in decades, I was actively trying to get help for myself.
That day became a massive turning point in my life. It wasn’t just about choosing to remain alive, but about beginning a new life where I could finally be my authentic self. Coming out didn’t suddenly make the trauma disappear, but it gave me an opportunity to discover who I actually was, rather than continuing to go through the motions.
A few months later I decided on a new name, Phoenix. From the ashes. I love it because of what it represents, but also because it has so many possible nicknames. My favourite is Nix. Two reasons really. It’s so damn short, which I love, and there’s also a rather dark little coincidence in the German language.
The German nichts means nothing, and nix is a colloquial variation. Perhaps a reminder of how close I came to becoming exactly that. Not the cheeriest explanation for a nickname, I suppose, but it means something to me.
Today I’ve reached out to a long-term friend to help me dispose of the things I had collected back in 2023. They’ve been sitting in my wardrobe for over a year now, only metres from where I sleep. A fairly uncomfortable reminder of just how close things came, and one I no longer want hanging around.
Arranging to get rid of them feels like turning another corner. It won’t undo the trauma or magically erase years of suicidal thoughts, but it does feel like marking the end of a particularly dark period of my life. It’s another decision I’ve made for myself, much like the one I made on 18th October 2023.
Today, I am choosing to live.
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