Death has been an endless companion for me for about 40 of my 56 years. It’s always there in the background and calls to me from time to time. Suicide. First time I tried it was when I was 15. I’ve tried so hard but God won’t let me go. I must have something very important to do because there is no medical reason for me to be alive. One time I drove an SUV into a telephone pole at 55 mph. That should have killed me my father told me. The steering wheel should have broken my neck instead of my jaw. I didn’t go thru the windshield but should have. No seatbelt. People don’t wear seatbelts if the ending they are looking for is death. I think we are all here at the same time and place for a reason. A God reason. Are we here to witness the end of days? Are we here to help in the fight? I don’t know but it must be a big reason.
The last I was in the hospital for an overdose I woke up after 3 days in ICU. Boy was I pissed off when I woke up. I wasn’t suppose to be here. Oh and guess who came to see me during my time in ICU or the 72 hours hold? No Body. Zip. Nobody cared at all. Least of all my family. They thought I wanted attention. My doctor asked me one time would I call him if I felt like I need to kill myself? I told him that if I called that would defeat the purpose wouldn’t it? Why would I call you if I wanted to die? This is not a game to me or a scream for help. Suicide runs in my family. I’ve had great aunts and uncles who have and a brother who committed suicide and my son.
I think about death or suicide a lot lately. The way things are going, it’s going to be a battle of the fittest and I’m not one of the fittest. I’m old and can’t run or hide. I’m not just going to sit here and wait on gangs of thugs to kill me or the Army to round me up. I asked the same doctor if he trusted the government and he looked at me nodding his head and said Sure, don’t you? I told him I did not trust my government and the things I had noticed on my computer going wrong. About how ads for things I had talked about but not googled started showing up on my screens, etc.. He just laughed at me and upped the dose on my meds. I’m text-book crazy. Afraid the government is spying on me. Hoarding for when the government attacks me. Yeah, right out of the texts books, but it looks like I’m not the crazy one now. Said doctor is retired now but oh how I would love to sit on his porch with a glass of iced tea and talk over the way things are going now. I told my new doctor about a year ago how I felt about suicide and you want to know what he said? Get a dog.
I lay in bed at night (even after the amount of meds I took right before) and think about it. My son hanged himself in jail with his prison orange. A soft choke. No rope burn or discoloring around the neck. Only a little discoloration covered up with a white button down shirt. He was on medical hold where they are supposed to watch you. They didn’t watch him. I think about a bed sheet tied to the rod in the closet and just sitting on my knees and taking a couple of sleeping pills waiting for me to nod off and just lean into the sheet. My man would be distraught for finding me. My granddaughter would be hurt but no body else would really care. A person that has known me for sometime would say, She was born to die. The only thing that stops me is heaven or hell. Is there heaven or hell on the other side or is it like cutting the switch off and nothingness? I want it to be nothingness. For everything to just stop. That’s when I’m suicidal, the craving for the nothingness. On other days I have to know that there’s a heaven because my Grannie, Nana, father, brother and my son are there.
My brother shot himself in the heart. I’m not that brave. He was in the woods and sat down on a side of a ravine and shot himself with a twenty-two pistol. The day after Christmas. My mother refuses to think he killed himself. He was always her problem child. Well, him and me. She thought he was doing it for attention. She has always thought that about me too. She said, He shot himself with a twenty-two, if he really meant to do it he could have taken a shotgun. (God what a mess that would make. My brother won’t have done that.) I told her Johnny was very knowledgeable about guns. He hunted. He knew that a twenty-two goes in but doesn’t come out. It kind of bounces around on the inside. The shot was also to his heart, not chest or shoulder but heart. He sat for a while before deciding to do it. Smoking and thinking. There were several cigarette butts on the ground by him. Our father had died just 6 months before and he thought he lost the only parent that had ever loved him and maybe he did. That loss of hope. Despair. The dark of night calls.
Our country is going to hell in a handbasket and sometimes I feel like I’m in the front row of the ride. `Isn’t it funny how Trump may be something for me to hang onto? I find the man is speaking for so many of us is the truth and he’s not afraid. The media and big government hate him so that one reason for voting for him. Now how that for crazy?