My not-so-fatal Suicide.

[Goosebump]

-WARNING this contains some avenues to DEATH - WARNING-

Nearly two months ago I nearly died.

I had been thinking about the prospect for many months before that. Dating back to July 2020 when my mother died of lung cancer during a pandemic where nobody cared if you died if it wasn't from the virus.

I'd lived with my mother for 12 years. Following the financial crap fest of 2007-08. We became closer than anything. I've never had a buddy like I had one with my mother over those years. It took some time to get there but we became the best of friends. Then she died and was gone and I was alone in a fucked world of covid, of my family being distant and scared to visit. My jobs such as they were, evaporating. I... wanted to DIE.

I spend each day contemplating what future I could have and every time it was bleak and meaningless. Even if I lucked upon success at something my mother was still dead, I was still unloved and a worthless creature that existed only to consume. What's the point? Why bother? What the fuck am I doing even debating this? The best damn thing I can do is fucking die!

I tried benadryl. My mistake was, or my best move had been to contact a friend of mine on the West Coast that was still awake. I gurgled and jabbered out what I had done. He performed a wellness call on me and soon two police officers where waking me up and forcing me to vomit, thankfully out side.

My next effort was to get alcohol poisoning. It is harder than you think, since you tend to pass out when you ingest that much. However, half way into my efforts I decided I'd kill myself by bleeding out and cracked my nose open against the floor. It's very hard to fall when you are sober. When you are very very drunk it becomes second nature. I tried, with success, to land on my face. Ok I didn't decide but the booze and the balance did. I'd put back over a liter of jack and several beers and was a happy wonder of wasted human potential ready to meet my end.

I can actually recall some brief fuzzy memories when the blood was all over the kitchen floor. Looking down at myself. Scrambling to my feet only to fall again as I slipped in my own blood.

I can't recall what made me save myself. I apparently stopped the bleeding and made it to my couch where I elevated my legs to keep what little blood I had left in my torso and head. All of this I guess at from where I woke up, I have no memory of doing any of it. I woke up on my couch with no pillows behind my head and all of them under my legs.

Whatever part of my brain was still working after so much drink wanted to live. IF that stupid ass part needs life so badly than I owe it to it to keep my stupid ass life alive.

It hasn't been easy. I still have crippling episodes of grief. I still work to make even a single day meaningful. But I'm still alive. So each dawn is a victory. OR some BS like that.

It's a nightmare. The best thing I've found is to really face the greif. Get in there and look at it. Let it tear you apart and know that it can't kill you. Unlike youself, which is still alive and should start living.

[Jackalope]

Hey I'm sorry for your loss and I'm glad you're still amongst the living.

[Goosebump]

I just needed to express it. Nobody needs to read it. You can lock or delete this thread or whatever.

[Rev. Rye]

There but for the grace of Jah goes the Reverend. I suspect that I’d be in a similar place if my Dad died (and, if he died before my mother, I’d probably have killed her and then myself.) Although, at the very least, I’m told I have a trust fund to keep the lower-rung Maslovian needs going. I wasn’t sure exactly why you were doing it, and what you talked about is understandable. I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts for quite a bit of my life (Luvox and having a therapist helps me), but often it could come about for little to no reason. Early on in my therapy, she asked what I expected of the future, if I expected good things to happen or bad. I said I had little to no hope for the future. When she asked why, I found I couldn’t articulate a reason. And, even though I knew intellectually things were going well for me, the fog barely lifted. I never attempted suicide, but, at my worst moments, that was only because I worried about what would happen if I failed. Or maybe it was just logistical problems.





In my cowardice, the furthest I ever went is unlatching the window on the 12th story of a building. Not even opening it, because of many possibilities, from the possibility that 12 stories isn’t a big enough jump to kill a person, to the possibility that someone might see me, or that even the few people I cared about might miss me, or that I might chicken out. Antidepressants and having a therapist have since helped me in that regard.

And flashing forward to this April, I saw your post and I figured I needed to help. I’m not the least bit surprised you were angry at the time. If I ever got up the courage to end it all during the darkest days and someone managed to stop me, I’d almost certainly have been pissed. I’d have seen someone saving my life as ruining my death.



But if it at least helped you off the brink, it’s at least a bit worth it.

[brewer]

Condolences on your mom's passing. Obviously you took it hard and pandemic isolation didn't help.

Have you considered group grief therapy (assuming you've been poked). Face time IRL is better than the internet IMO. But maybe there are other issues that I don't know about.

Don't take this the wrong way but as you were talking about your 'attempt' misadventure(s) I couldn't help but imagine a dark comedy. If you're any kind of a writer you might want to try putting the events on paper. That can help get through the loss also.

Best wishes.

[Goosebump]

Thanks for the responses. I'm doing much better now. Shit still hurts but I've found more productive ways to handle it. I'm happy to talk with anybody who has lost a loved one. Though I admit I just saw the one year anniversary of my mother's death and might not be the best at advice.

Thanks again, death suck, life is harder with it.

[Abaddon_ire]

I just needed to express it. Nobody needs to read it. You can lock or delete this thread or whatever.

Everyone needs to unload sometimes.
I don't know you, but since I have some experience, I am willing to reach out and offer an ear to bend...if you want one.

[Rev. Rye]

Don't take this the wrong way but as you were talking about your 'attempt' misadventure(s) I couldn't help but imagine a dark comedy. If you're any kind of a writer you might want to try putting the events on paper. That can help get through the loss also.

Best wishes.

In all fairness, if real life had a genre, it would probably be dark comedy.