Not Escape: Liberation

I almost died again today at my own hand. Is this the cost of liberty? My life?
It's interesting how laying down your life (being killed or pushing off the mortal coil) and taking your life (holding it in a strangle hold and running away with it) are so closely linked. I went from a tighter grasp to a letting go - letting go relinquishes control and illusion, opening you to liberty and favor, and oh, look at that, joy. Holding tighter reinforces stress, the need to maintain performance and uphold illusion - it's all about your ability to create and cultivate a life. It's like paying too much attention to a plant.

There's a struggle in me for life.
I think my life, MY LIFE, should look like [some idea] and when I have finally gotten to [setting, destination, state] I'll be happy and satisfied. This is my soul.
But I have been called to a higher faith, one where my life is forfeit, yet somehow recovered and expanded.
These two things combine in me and create a tumult that I really can't stand. Like rending clothes and gnashing teeth can't stand, and pretty quickly suicide is the only possible solution to putting an end to the contention in me.
But it's the Word that puts an end to all contention. My soul can buck the word, but it cannot win. My soul breaks itself on the word, because satan's seat is based on a twisted understanding of it, and when I get the truth sorted out, that unrighteous throne is righted.

I've said 'my life is forfeit' and meant that it just wasn't mine.
He's asked for my life.
I'm going to Alaska to fucking die.
I'm scared as shit.

This is soul-crunching.
I stare down these giant jaws that are going to take me in and crush me to mash. He spits the bones into the desert and then sings them back together.
And then nothing's ever the same.

I feel like we need different words for the life we live and the life of the flesh-and-bone body; separate these concepts for clarity. My body's living-meat is fodder, and the way I live my life are what I do - I consider that me, and this body an extension of that. What I have to work with, so to speak. Learn to live with, learn to love.
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I wrote the above in a state of insanity. Rereading it, it's surprisingly lucid and anyone who's dealt with suicide will recognize the glare blinding lights leave in your eyes when everything's silent black. Yet, like our calling in life, it ends with hope, enough energy to propel us into the next act of our story.
Our understanding of God (my understanding of God) has been wack. We've been focused on who we think He is instead of learning who He is. We've gotten to know Him through hearsay .... like Kaiser Soze in The Usual Suspects: you don't know who he is but operations go forward anyway. And it turns out you were beholding a deceiver the whole time; gazing into a dark mirror; forgetting who you are.
God's Sovereign and Just and Love and Peace, and you can't discuss one of them without discussing the others no matter how you focus, much like the Trinity. All that said, there's hope, and it drives us on.