The pain of being suicidal is endlessly numbing. It consumes everything so that nothing matters except the pain of existing and enduring the torture of simply being alive. When you reach the point of that pain all of your other pains have left you. Your aching bones that screams through you is numbed. That twisted ankle you have has been throbbing beyond belief and it does not matter at all anymore.
The things that previously kept you alive, the possibility of life getting any better, not wanting to hurt the people you love with your death, worrying about whether or not your husband will be the one to find your body, all of those concerns that kept you from ending it in the past mean nothing anymore because this pain you feel in this moment makes nothing matter, except relief. Relief from the unending torture, peace at last, blissful nothingness.
And from the deepest part of my scarred heart, I hope you never feel it.