Suicide.

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Suicide.

I read an interesting blog post about this today, from another survivor. I say another survivor which is really a lie. That person is a survivor I am not, I just didn’t die that’s all and there’s the difference.

The blog however was insightful, for the first time I had seen, someone saw it the same as me. She planned her suicide date as her fathers birthday, a bittersweet revenge perhaps? Where as mine would be when my father has not talked to me for a while and I’d hope it took weeks for him to learn of my demise. I’d want him to know that he didn’t have the right to be informed. He wasn’t top of the list and he’ll miss my funeral.

Of course before anyone panics, I’m not going to do it. It’s a mere fantasy. I can thank my children for being here and taking away that option. I’ll admit sometimes I get mad about it. It feels like I’m trapped here when all I want is for it to be over. I come close sometimes, but all I do is imagine their faces. I imagine them alone with no one to be there when things in life get too bad. When they just need their dad.

My father is not taking that from my children. I’ve been there for every moment in their lives and I’m going to keep being there, even when the days are hard, when the pain inside is so bad I’m begging almost for it to be over.

I’ve tried before of course to end it all, clearly with no success. The first time I really recall I was seven. I lay down in the bath and just didn’t move with my head in the water. I think I almost did it too, I floated away inside my mind, the need to breathe had gone, and my saviour, ironically was my father and his belt.

I didn’t really try again until my late teens, but I had no fear of death. I took risks, I didn’t care, if death was going to claim me I was going to tease it. It didn’t work of course. Even when I almost died at sixteen some part of me wanted to live.

I’d got septicaemia. It was a loving parting gift in a way from my fathers actions, that I’d been too ashamed to deal with and I was found with no temperature and hardly a heartbeat, my friend didn’t waste any time in calling an ambulance, he even called my father who refused to show his face, he was simply too busy at work to deal with his son that was being rushed to the emergency room.

I was eighteen the next time I tried. I’d landed myself with my special needs son because his mother couldn’t cope and I’d just lost my second child to the cruel hands of fate. I walked out the hospital completely broken, not hearing anything passed the doctors words that started I’m sorry. I spent two weeks getting drunk until I tried to slit my own wrists. The unfortunate timing of another friends visit soon blew the end to that one, but kicked me onto my downward spiral of illegal drugs.

A year later I tried again to end it. A come down from a concoction of drugs and nothing to live for except a son who I was failing, I necked a bottle of pills. I was sick for days after. Funny really I always thought there was no escape when you tried that way, but seems my body wasn’t playing.

Twenty three was the last time. My life was happy. I’d met a nice girl. My son was doing well. There was a new baby on the way. I’d been clean from drugs. I had a job, was going back to school. I had everything, but the pain inside I’d spent my life running from. That agonising sadness that’s nestled deep within my chest was so consuming that I felt helpless. It was a letter from my daughters mother that stopped me. She didn’t know of my past, but she had read some of my writings and she replied to one. I’m grateful to her, she saved my life in so many ways, she’ll never know.

I haven’t tried for a long time since these. Not even when I lost a second daughter. I think about it. It’s in my mind every day. The sadness is still there, but now it’s nothing more than a pleasant fantasy.

Something I keep on the back burner. It pops into my head at random times. When I’m driving, I think, just a quick flick of the wheel and I’m done, it’s over. When I’m out running, what if I just closed my eyes and ran, would a car hit me? Would it be quick?

Then I think of my children. They are better than any sadness I feel. In selfish ways when it feels too much, I let them make me smile.

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25 thoughts on “Suicide.

  1. I have no long, drawn out comment to post. You already know how I feel about all of what you have just shared.
    However, I do want to say one thing, and that is, I am just so glad.
    ~ Hugs ~

  2. This made me cry at the end. Amazing how curses and blessings exist side by side, seeming to vie for our commitment. I’m glad for your choice. Your words and actions color my world, right over the shitty hue that I often find settling on it. Just by sharing your struggles and the decisions you make. It makes me think…if James can do it…then I damn well can too. Not that I’ve considered suicide, but just ending things in my life that I feel trapped and helpless with. Thanks for sharing your pain and allowing it to be a beacon of what I can overcome. I’m glad you decided to feed the good wolf.

  3. About an hour after reading this blog I found myself randomly reading some of my favorite Rumi sayings that brought me back to this post. Maybe you will find them interesting too:

    “You were born with wings. Why prefer to crawl through life?”

    “Oh soul,
    you worry too much.
    You have seen your own strength.
    You have seen your own beauty.
    You have seen your golden wings.
    Of anything less,
    why do you worry?
    You are in truth
    the soul, of the soul, of the soul.”

    “Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.”

    Thanks for reblogging azureboone. There is never a good reason not to feel love.

  4. After reading this, I couldnt stop crying. I am so glad all your attempts failed. You are destined for great things in your life and writing is one of them. I thank God everyday you are still on this earth. Your words have helped me and many others through the darkness in our own lives. Do you see how important you are? I do. I wish I could give each of your children a hug because they are your anchor.

  5. I am so glad your children keep you here,you have the strength to help so many people through there own trials,I think the little ones you lost are daddys guardians angels.and never dwell on the suicide thought you are needed and loved by many.I also love the above saying.so true.Take care and keep safe,(((HUGS))) for you and family xxx

  6. I relate to so much what you write , although in a different way if that makes sense? I gues that ‘s why your writings have struck a chord in me. I have not endured trauma anywhere near as what you describe but yet I relate..strange. And with each time you write I find out more about you and what you have gone through..loss of children, unimaginable for a parent..most would want to crawl under a rock and never come out again.. and yet here you are..sharing your thoughts with us and I am again amazed at your courage, your ability to put it into words. And your will to live for your children… I hope you find peace some day JD…true peace and that you may sleep in peace at night..
    ((hugs))

  7. And I apologize for any rambling thoughts that I post as I write ..have had some sleepless nights myself lately dealing with a son who has drug issues among other things..

  8. Just like others say, I struggle to find words to really express what I want to say. Your story is inspiring heart warming and so touching. Thank you for sharing and I look forward to reading more. I’m glad I found you, and I’m glad you are still here x

  9. Do you even realize the magnitude of your words or how many lives you have touched? You are so courageous to share your inner most personal thoughts and feelings.

    You say you are not a survivor, I beg to differ. By definition a survivor is a person who continues to function or prosper in spite of opposition, hardship, or setbacks. YOU ARE A SURVIVOR.

    You found that blog insightful that she actually got how you feel, your Blog does the same for so many. Talking about abuse still seems taboo. It happens in so many forms to far too many young and old. I know it’s hard to talk about an abusive past even to the ones we are closest to. Thank you for your willingness to put your story out there so others know that they are not alone.

    You sound like you are a wonderful father and we, your readers and your friends, are blessed that your children pull you through when times are tough.

    As always, I wish you peace and happiness.

  10. I thank God for your children and for mine. My children keep me here too. I know they need and want me and when things get too hard to bear otherwise, I stay for them. I hope you and I can both continue to do so.

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