This subject is one that is close to my heart. I hope that sharing what I once thought was a selfish act, we could get a better understanding on the subject by sharing how my views of suicide had evolved. Now these are my experiences with the subject, personal they may be. Please be considerate. This is my perspective, my past, and I realize that there are people out there that have lived a difficult life, much more difficult then my own. Every suicide case is different, I bet they all thought they had the best reasons on why they chose to leave this life. That does not change the emotion that is left behind because of their actions. The immense sadness that we have all feel knowing that person was in so much pain that they felt it was their only sense of relief. I have had hard lessons in life, still do. But we all learn to live as we go. Though painful love, physical abuse, Mental abuse, Really the list can go on. Suicide is such a common epidemic, it really shouldn’t be. Dont push someone to their breaking point, we all should be on the same team. This is were my story will start.
The first time I learned about suicide I was at least 7 years old (that’s as far back as I remember). My siblings and my parents were kindly flipping though the photo album. When we came across a photo of a boy of at least 17. An obituary with a 1 dollar bill next to it with a brown looking stain down the crease. Naturally, I got curious and I asked who is this boy? Why was there a dollar next to his photo. My mom kindly told me to read the obituary. When I had finished I still didn’t understand how such a young boy could have died. “Mom, what happened to him?” She paused and looked at me, I saw sadness in her eyes. He had taken his life. It wasn’t until I got older I started to ask more in depth questions about it. How and why would he do such a thing. My mother, aunt and uncles lived in a very abusive home. Sexual abuse was normal in this house, strict with regular beatings. My uncle would try and protect the others by claiming he had broken the glass or was in the wrong, just to save his siblings from the belt, switch, or hit in anyway. He was a month away from turning 18 and getting out of the house for good. It was too long a wait. He took his life with a rifle to the head. The dollar my mother had was in his wallet when he died, the stain was his blood. I did not know him, I was not born until the beginning of 1986. You can believe it or not but it affects me, as if I knew him for years.
I have tried once myself to take my own life. Really it was out of spite when I look on it now. It was a foolish thing I had tried to do. I was about 14 maybe, I grabbed a bunch of over the counter medication from the medicine cabinet. Cough syrup, aspirin, cold medicine, what ever I could get my hands on with out my parents noticing. I took them all and laid in bed. I fell asleep. I slept for hours. But then I woke up. No one had come into my room. No one had saw what I tried to do or read the suicide note left by my bed. What a waste I thought. But I decided to try again in a few more days but it never happened. I look on it now and say to my self, “if I had died, what would I have left for my family? How much I would have hurt them.” Depression is a very common occurrence for me, I think about suicide all the time (as does most of my family). What would happen if I just ran my car off the road? Stuck my head in the oven? I may think this sometimes but would never act on it. I have kids now, a husband. They live for me and I for them. I am the calm person my family turns too when they need to vent or talk too about a problem. I can calm them when they are stressed or feel like they are breaking. I would hate to think of hurting them with my absence. That would be the ultimate hurt I could cause others.
The next one happened a month after I was married. He was a friend of my husbands, he even showed up at our wedding. I had met him only that one time. He looked happy, all smiles. It is easy to hide behind a smile. I had attended the funeral to support my husband in loosing a friend. You can be skeptical at this next part by all means, I am an Empath. I did not know this man. But I cried, I could feel the sadness filling the rooms. It emanated off of everyone. I saw the pain on the faces of those closest to him, his mother, his on and off girlfriend, his friends. It was hard for me just to be there. Seeing the aftermath after someone commits suicide was eye opening. My heart went out to them. I finally saw how wrong I would have been if I succeeded in my own attempt. At this time I still found it selfish.
These last two are closest to my heart. I will start with my bonus daughter (step). Now, in this story I call her my daughter because that is what she is. I am not her biological mother but I care for her just the same. I have known her since she was five. Her mom and I had a good relationship from the start. Her mom had some troubles and struggled with addiction on and off. She spoke her mind and had no filter but she was a good woman. She was trying and trying hard to be the mom her kids needed. It started when she was driving from work late one night in December, as I had heard it she had a few drinks prior (she worked in a bar). Ultimately , slipped on ice and wreaked her car. She spent time in the hospital, swelling on the brain. We did not know if she was going to pull through. Thank the gods that she did. My daughter needed her mother. February comes around, the month my daughter was born. A week after her birthday was a dark day. Now I have heard at least three different versions on what had happened. But I am going to tell you what I think happened. Given the information by her sisters whom I still talk too. She once told her sister she had blacked outs when having small amounts of alcohol. She had told me she has not felt the same after her accident (less patient with the kids and so on). She had some to drink that night, fought with her husband. As far as I know all the kids were awake (4). As the fighting progressed, my daughter was able to calm her mom down and the fighting stopped. Up until the mother in law showed up (they didn’t get along). The fight started back up. In the end, she locked her self in the bathroom and shot herself. My daughter heard the shot, she called 911. Now I do not have all the details but I will tell you this, It broke my daughter! It broke her heart and still now it pains her (its been 2 years). She relives that night all the time. I see the pain on her face when it gets brought up, she gets angry. I do not blame her. She needed her. I understand her anger, her struggle to answer why she could have done something so terrible. I believe her mom blacked out. Then acted on impulse. It wasn’t a choice she would have made if she was in her right mind. But the damage is done. I see and feel the pain.
This next one was pretty recent. not a year has passed. My grandfather, an artist, a writer, a veteran (Vietnam). Did he struggle with life? Yes. We all do. Did he have addictions? Yes, he did. He even went as far as to blame himself for the death of my cousin when it was clearly an accident. Growing up, he was my favorite grandparent. Camping, fishing (he taught me how to correctly fish a river), and visits to his small town home. He was my step grandpa but I do not care, I looked up to him. As an adult I knew him less. I can not remember the last time I spoke to him. When I told him I was writing a novel, a story based on a story he told me when I was young. He told me to finish it. Later he wrote a book for me (no one had any idea he wrote it, I was the one with the only copy). I had heard he wasn’t feeling well. We were waiting on test results from the hospital. Come to find out later, he had cancer. He watched his brother go though Chemo before passing away. He did not want to go out that way. He found a field near his house and put the gun to his chest. I understand his reasons why. I just wish I got to see him one last time, talk to him. His art hangs in my home. The antler lamp he made me, I cant touch. The last time I did I broke. Even though I understand it still doesn’t stop from hurting.
I once thought suicide was a selfish act. It made me angry to think that people wanted to leave willingly. Couldn’t they see the pain that they caused by their absence? Why they could only see the pain and not the love that surrounded them. How can those people be so blinded to that fact that they have love. But that is it they were blinded, all they could see is the pain, in their hearts there was no silver lining in their cloud. I sat and talked many friends out of doing it. It wasn’t until I learned more about mental illness, that I started to see the full picture. The circumstance of each case vary, but there are other ways around it. Seek professional help, try to think of what it would do to the people around you. There are so many beautiful things in this world to live for. They are everywhere, look for them.
I hope this helps someone who is struggling. There is always someone to talk too.
I apologize if my blog is all over and not as well done as I had hoped. I had a hard time writing this because of the emotions I feel about the subject.
The Life of Mimi Ultraweird 