Category Archives: suicide

Thoughts we speak not of…

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*******EXTREME TRIGGER WARNING**** EXTREME TRIGGER WARNING*****EXTREME TRIGGER WARNING*****

I decided I wanted to write about those “thoughts” most of us have, but we never speak of, say them out loud. One reason I am sure is fear and shame. Who would comprehend these types of thoughts. Who could we open up to about these thoughts and not judge us, or look at us like we are “crazy”? I am only going to mention a few, because there are plenty. I am doing this so others can see/realize they are not the only ones who think like this. And there should be no fear or shame for thinking these things. They are just thoughts, not actions. We do not act upon them (for the most part). I also think we have these thoughts because we have such vivid imaginations, it is difficult not to. So, today I am going to share my “disturbing” thoughts with you.

I will start with thoughts I had as a teenager. I thought everyone was watching me all the time. Like ALL eyes were always on me. It felt really uncomfortable. Sometimes, I could handle it, other times, I couldn’t. Like while in crowds, it felt like EVERYONE was watching my every move and/or talking about me. Judging me, laughing at me. Thankfully, I ‘grew’ out of that. That lasted a couple of years, and it kind of just went away.

Another thing I always thought of was when I was in bed trying to go to sleep. I would imagine an intruder (murderer) breaking in the house, I would wonder how I would hide, where I would hide so he could not see me and kill me. I would wonder which rooms he would go into first, I would wonder if my parents would get shot while sleeping. Things along this line of thinking happened often. I did not feel safe in my home, I was terrified. This, I also eventually ‘grew’ out of. It happens every now and then, but not as often as before.

Now the following I have always thought of, as a teenager and to this day. Sometimes I hate having such a vivid imagination!

The latest one is seeing myself in the bathtub, slit wrists, tub full of blood and I am slowly dying as the blood oozes out of my arms. As my hair dances in the water, I just kind of float there, staring up, slowly dying… peacefully. Feeling all of my worries, concerns and fears oozing out along with my blood. (This one I was actually planning on doing, I was really feeling it, almost ready to do it, then I confessed this to my husband and that is why he decided to take FMLA to stay with me).

Other times I see myself hanging from a rafter or beam. Just hanging there, lifeless. I have searched around the house for something like this just in case I were to decide to do this. Thankfully there is nothing in this house I could hang myself from.

Another one is when I am in a vehicle, I see the car hitting something and me flying out of the front windshield, colliding and bouncing on the pavement, bloody, body parts here and there. I am still alive, I see myself standing there and an angel next to me, staring down at my bloody, disfigured body, slowly dying. I am not in any pain as I slowly drift off into an eternal deep sleep.

This one I do not think of often, I think it is the most disturbing of all. I think of pouring gasoline all over my body and lighting myself on fire.

Sometimes I think of bashing my head in the mirror, over and over, until I see enough blood to satisfy my need to see my blood pouring down my face.

Other times I imagine myself in a public location and a gunman shooting everyone in sight, including me.

Another one is me jumping off a tall building, plummeting to my death.

The overdosing on pills I no longer think of, because I have tried that one many times and the outcome was not fun at all. I also tried the gun thing and was not successful. I could not do it…. thankfully.

______________________

I guess the worse part of all of this, is that I can so VIVIDLY see it happening. Like watching a movie, they seem so real.

And the last one I will write is me at night hoping, wishing not to wake up. (I think that is a popular one among us, along with the ‘just disappearing”). The sad part is I think this even when things are going well. I wonder, why would I not want to wake up when things are okay, when I am feeling good and ‘happy’? It does not make any sense to me.

Seems these thoughts have become second nature. They just pop in when they want to. When they pop in and stay for a while, I try to distract myself so as not to think of them. We can control our thoughts. I know this. But I am 38 years old and have been thinking like this for so long, it is not an easy task to do. But I know it can be done, and when that day comes… well I can’t wait until that day comes, where I will no longer think or imagine these things. Or I can get rid of them the second I start thinking of them.

Until then, I will take it day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute to even second by second, if and when I have to. I will do what I can to stay alive. To keep fighting. I will keep struggling. To spread hope. To help others like me realize that they are not alone. There are many like us.

I am staying alive for myself and for others. You, my family, my friends, strangers, everyone. If I make a difference in one life, if I can save just one life, than I have served my purpose. Hopefully I will save many…

Until then keep hope alive! Much love and peace ~Bekr

 

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It’s Time

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History: I completely stopped my medications against doctors advice in February. I titrated off of them, so as not to get too many withdrawal symptoms. I was good for about 3-4 weeks. Then things started going downhill. My mind was not well. So my husband and family decided to fly my sister in to watch me for 2 weeks. So she came over, I was ‘okay’ for the most part. We had a great time, then she left. It has been pretty bad. My thoughts, my ideas. I made a ‘plan’ to kill myself. The intent was there at one point, but not as much anymore. I decided to tell my husband about the “plan” a few nights ago. He then decided to take Family Medical Leave to look after me. It has been 3 days, and I just realized I am not getting any better like this. I know my husbands intentions were well, but he cannot help me the way I need help.

Current Situation: I have not cleaned the house for 3 weeks, which is the longest I have ever gone without cleaning up. And I really don’t care, nor have the energy to clean. I have NO energy to do anything. I have had to force myself to do laundry every few days. I have not cooked, my husband has been cooking or buying fast food. I finally took a shower today after 3 days. I wore the same tank top and pj bottoms for 3 days. I did not leave the house, I basically stayed in bed and slept. When I was/am awake I was/am on the sofa. I don’t want to do anything, I find pleasure in nothing. I am just completely depressed and numb.

We moved here last November and I have a new psychiatrist and therapist, which of neither I really like. Long story short my therapist told me him and my psychiatrist thought I committed suicide. So, as he tells me this, I am thinking, if they thought I did this, why did they not take 2 minutes to call to make sure I was alive. I realize they have lots of patients, but seriously?? Am I wrong for thinking this? I do not want to see a therapist that does not give a shit whether I live or die. Plus, I think I pissed my psychiatrist off by stopping the medications and he has given up on me. Again, what good would it do seeing a doctor that has already given up on you. And that is why I have not gone to see either of them. I did see my psychiatrist to start new meds, he put me on the same meds and added Zoloft and basically told me there was nothing he could for me.

Sooo, the VA Hospital here is not open yet. I will be going to the Air Base Hospital tomorrow and see what they decide there, to send me to a civilian hospital (psych ward) or what.

It is time. I had hoped it would pass, but it hasn’t, and it is not getting any better. And like I wrote months ago, this is what I said I would do. If I did not get any better, I would go to the hospital.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been in and out of psych wards a million times, I know how they are and what they are about. Some of them don’t really help at all, they are like holding cells, but they keep me alive, and that is a good thing. I have not been to one in 4 years or so, which is a record for me, considering I was committed at least twice a year before 2009. I hate having my freedom taken away from me, but hey, it needs to be done.

I’ll be sure to bring a notebook and pen/pencil to write down ‘the happenings’ of my hospitalization :)

Much love everyone!!

My Life through decades of misery, mistakes and misadventures…

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bpgirl

Thinking about my birthday coming up next month. Decided to do a little photo collage of me, to make a point. I DID NOT think I would make it this far, survive this long. I gave myself an expiration date of 26. As I have stated before, it is a miracle I am still alive, but I am here for a reason. This is for those that are going through really tough times and are in a dark place. PLEASE, believe that it DOES get better. LIFE IS WORTH IT! Yes, I still have crappy and depressing times, but the important thing is KNOWING that those feelings/emotions DO pass. Just because you are miserable now, does not mean you will always be miserable. I am living proof that it indeed does get better and here to tell you all of this. Take a look at these photos… imagine them ending at 18 or 19… it is difficult isn’t it? YOU ARE WORTH IT, DON’T EVER GIVE UP!!
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-8255. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. It is okay to not be okay.

Much love~ Bekr

The Darkness

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Can you see the pain through my eyes? Can you sense the agony that I am emitting? Can you feel the tears that are not falling?

What is this I am feeling? It is not new. I have been here before. Why does it have to hurt so much? It is so strange. To feel so much pain, so much agony… yet feel numb. It is unexplainable and so confusing. Why am I back here, why did I have to return to this forsaken place? I have crawled/scratched my way up this lifeless pit of misery many times before. So why does it feel unfamiliar… is it a new pit?

Are there different pits that I happen to fall into throughout my life? Are they reserved just for me? Why are the in my path at all? I do not need to be constantly tested for my strength. I know my strength and fortitude. I have taken many paths in my life with many ‘forks’. I have also had to make a few detours, but I have always been able to persevere.

I know life is not easy. That there are many obstacles in our paths. But why does mine seem to have so fucking many???

Maybe I was walking my head held too high and failed to see the gaping black hole in front of me… But that is not like me. I do not walk with my head held high like that. I look forward and I pay attention to my surroundings and all of the people around me. And yet, here I am… again, at the bottom of the misery pit.

I attempt to look around me, I can tell I am surrounded by death and decay. I can smell my past, it is a stench that I do not care to ever visit again. Once again, I look around, but cannot see anything. I am in complete darkness. I can sense this darkness, it is its own entity. I can start sensing its evil eyes looking upon me, longing for me to join them. It has many faces, many arms. I then start feeling the cold decayed fingers and hands reaching out for me. They grab at me, trying to get a good grip. As I stand there in total darkness, I feel various decrepit hands all over me… They grab at my arms, my legs, they are all over me. They struggle because they are weak, yet have some strength because they know the darkness, they live here, they are in their element. And they are lonely, they want/long/crave for another soul. They want to feed off of me, they want my hope, my life, my being. They need it, they must have it. I just stand there, stuck in fear and amazement, I do not fight them. I can now ‘hear’ them beckoning and pleading for me to join them. In unison they ‘tell’ me that I should join them, that they can take all of my pain, misery and agony away. They ‘say’ that I do not have to feel this way, they can make it all better, make all of it disappear. All they ask of me is to completely surrender to them, to let myself go, and they will take care of the rest. As I listen closely, I hear evil shrieking and angelic sounds. I then realize these are not voices at all, these are not human voices speaking to me. I also realize there are no sounds coming from their putrid mouths. They are communicating to me through my mind. They are in my mind. They can feel everything I am feeling and it excites them. They are feeding off my fear, my pain, my agony, my confusion and what little hope I have left.

As I stand there, I can feel them consuming the life out of me. I am not fighting them, I am allowing this. As they are consuming my being, I slowly start to feel relief, a sort of peaceful feeling starts coursing through every ounce my being. I feel home. I feel I am where I belong. This is it. This is not only the answer, but the feeling of relief I have been searching for. I just stand there and let them have their way with me. They are all greedily sucking all of my pain, my agony, my hope.

Suddenly I feel a dampness on my face, I am crying, I can feel the tears rolling out of my eyes. This snaps me back to ‘reality’, I ‘wake’ up in a daze and realize where I am and what is happening. I happen to look up and see a flicker of light. The longer I stare up, the brighter the flicker gets, it is glowing. This terrifies the creatures, I then realize they are extremely scared of light.

I make the decision to have them stop feeding off of me. I am not giving them my being. My hope, my fear, my agony and pain… those all belong to me, not them. These are all part of who I am. It is not theirs to take.

I realize the longer I stare up directly into the light, that I am controlling how bright it gets. So I use every ounce of hope left inside of me to make that flicker  turn into a mass of light. I can feel the heat from it, it is comforting and welcoming. Everything these creatures had sucked out of me was flowing back into my pores. All of my hope was coming back, along with my fear, pain and agony. The mass of light exploded, harming all of the creatures making them retreat back into the darkness. I could ‘hear’ the shrieks, I could tell they were angry and in pain. And just like that they were gone. I could not feel or sense them any longer.

Just then a ladder made of hopes and dreams appeared before me. When I touched this ladder my fingers/hand went right through it, this ladder was not solid. I did that a few times. There was no way I could climb out of here on this thing. It was not ‘real’. I knew what I had to do, I had to believe. So I closed my eyes and put all of my belief and faith in this ladder of hopes and dreams. It then became solid, and I was able to climb my way out of that pit of darkness. That ladder was made up of my hopes and dreams. I still have enough hope and dreams to keep me alive, to help me find my way out of the darkness.

Out of the darkness, I now find myself in a field of nothingness. I am alone, there is nothing around me. It is not dark, nor is it bright, it is just enough light for me to see. To see I am alone in this field. I am not clothed, I am cold and scared. I am not sure where to go, or what to do. I see that the gaping hole has closed itself. I look around, there is no where to go. I am confused and completely lost. So I just sit and wait…

~January 18, 2013, Bekr H.

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NOTE: I wrote this yesterday. I am obviously in dark place right now. I have been in bed for 2 days, which is extremely unusual for me. I usually am able to force myself up and do things. But not this time. I am scared. I am terrified of my thoughts and what I may do. Knowing that, I stay in bed. It is my safe haven. I wrote this story giving me a way out of the darkness. Unfortunately, I am still stuck at the bottom. But I can see that flicker, so that keeps me going. I am hanging in there. I know this will pass… I just have to make it through… I do not know how long this will last. I do not know reasons for feeling the way I do. I do not think there were any triggers to bring me here. I just don’t know. Until I make it out, I will keep writing and keep drudging through.

The Absolute Truth & Mental Illness “Recovery”

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WARNING: I WRITE ABOUT DISTURBING THOUGHTS AND IMAGES

I finally realized why I have been feeling a bit like a fraud and hypocrite. It is time to come forward and be completely honest with myself and all of you. You deserve the truth as do I.

I make all these posts on Facebook and write in this blog about Hope this and Hope that, Life gets better, la-di-freakin-da… Well, that is only the surface. Yes, as previously written, I did change my attitude about life, I did forgive myself for everything I have done, and released the guilt that had been holding me down for so long. And, yes, doing all of that has made a huge difference in my life. Some days, I do love my life, but other days, I don’t. I have written that life does get better, and also gets worse, which is the truth. Life can’t always be rainbows and butterflies, that is just not the way life is. Life is beautiful, harsh, difficult, kind, and cruel.

I have written about my bipolar “recovery”. But I honestly don’t know how it is for others that say they are in a “recovery” phase and are doing well, because I haven’t talked to anyone about this. Maybe feeling recovered is different for everyone. Maybe there are different levels of recovery, who knows??? I sure don’t. Maybe my “recovery” is “normal”, and by “normal” I mean, it may be like this for other people with bipolar disorder or other mental illnesses.

I see myself in 3 layers, these layers are constantly changing. Currently, the top layer is the happy hopeful one. The middle one is the reasoning one, and the bottom is the “bipolar” one. Sort of like a poisonous 3 layer cake. The top layer being the frosting, it is safe to take a bite out of, it is sweet, it will not hurt or harm you, you enjoy it. The middle layer is basically just there to be the middle, it balances the top layer from the bottom layer. And the bottom layer is poisonous, you take a bite out of it, it will harm/hurt you, may even lead you to death depending on how much you eat.

So far, I have only been showing the top layer. The layer that is hopeful and always smiling. I have written a few blogs about bad days and bad times, but for the most part, I stick to the good days. The layer below the hope and smiles, is the middle layer, the reasonable/reasoning layer. It knows that I cannot be happy all the time, nor depressed all the time. It knows that life is constantly challenging, and sometimes has control to “decide” which way to go. Either to the top layer or the bottom layer. The bottom layer is my “bipolar” layer. It is dark, angry, frustrated, sad… It does not reason, it does not care about much, it hates everything. It likes to take complete control sometimes. It is a sneaky little sucker. Sometimes, slowly making its way to become top layer, other times just exploding its way within seconds to become the top layer.

My point is that while I say I am doing and feeling well, the truth is, yes, I may be feeling well, but deep down inside I still feel a little bit of hopelessness, and that desire to die. I don’t feel like I have been lying to you all, I just have been leaving out particular details. But leaving out details is sort of lying, isn’t it? It is not the total truth. I have my reasons for leaving out these particular details. I think I was lying to myself more so than anything and didn’t want to come to the realization that I may never quite truly be completely “better”. Maybe I was scared, and did not want to accept that… I don’t know.

Even when I am doing well, I still have fleeting suicidal thoughts. Unfortunately they are always there, in the back of my mind. Sometimes, those thoughts make themselves known, other times they just chill and hang out back there. BUT they are just thoughts. I would never act upon them. When I get extremely angry those thoughts then become desires and then I start imagining ways to “go”. I try my hardest to not let these thoughts/desires take control. Sometimes it is real difficult, I just stop reasoning and caring (I am in the poisonous layer). What helps me at these times, is that my husband knows when I get like this and he does not leave my side, and then these “desires” eventually do pass. To be honest, if he were to leave me if I were in this mindset, I do not know what I would do. Thankfully I don’t have to worry about that, because he knows better than to leave me alone at these times.

Sometimes I go to bed and wish that I “go” in my sleep and never wake up. YES, I still have these thoughts, even though I am feeling okay. I honestly do not know why. Maybe I have been thinking like this for so long, that it is only natural for me to still think this way, it has become a second nature. I still have catastrophic thoughts too. When in a vehicle, I imagine a wreck, crashing into a wall or anything and me flying through the window, blood and guts everywhere, to my death. I see myself, all bloody and disfigured. These thoughts are disturbing to me, yet also calming. I imagine an airplane exploding and plummeting to my house, landing where ever it is that I am and crushing me to death. I have an extremely vivid imagination. These are only a few of my disturbing thoughts, believe me there are many more.

I may be happy, but I still hurt inside, I still feel that agonizing pain of just being. I cannot explain it, nor why I would still feel this way when I am happy. It just is. Sometimes when I am completely and utterly happy, I can feel it in my chest, a complete fullness and it makes me want to cry, happy tears though. During these particular happy moments, I do not have any of those disturbing thoughts or the suicidal thoughts. But these truly happy moments do not last long. They range from hours to 1 day to 1 week. I LOVE it when I feel like this. It is such a wonderful feeling. So the point here is, that there ARE times when I am completely and utterly happy, and it is these moments, whether they last 1 day or 1 week out of an entire year, make it worth struggling through all the other bull shit. At least for me it is. Just 1 day of complete happiness, is worth 364 days of struggle.

So, there it is. The complete and honest truth… all of it. My mind is scatterbrained much of the time, so I try to make as much sense as I can when writing, hoping the flow of my thoughts make sense when written down. And while I am writing I sometimes forget some thoughts or ideas I was going to write about, like now, I totally forgot what I was going to write about, hoping that it will come back to my mind…

Okay, I remember what else I wanted to write about. I know lots of stuff I write about may contradict what I write at other times. But that is the way I am. Bipolar is defined as: having or relating to two poles or extremities. So being contradictory is natural for me. Although by definition being contradictory is a proposition so related to another that if either of the two is true the other is false and if either is false the other must be true, is not the case for me. I believe both cases to be true to a certain extent. Am I making any sense? So maybe I am not contradicting myself. I don’t know… as usual, now I am just blabbering :)

Hopefully my point came across and not found to be offensive to anyone. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

Note: This just took me a long time to write, I do not feel like proofreading it, so excuse any spelling or grammatical errors (which I tend to be anal about most of the time) :)

Bipolar Girl Tip

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(this has worked for me, just a suggestion)
If you have been suicidal in the past or are and have a history of taking pills/overdosing, it may be a good idea to invest in a small safe box. You have to have a family member that is living with you willing to help you with this one. My husband does it for me. ALL of the medications are locked up in this box and only he can get to it. Every Sunday he takes out the pills I need for the week, and puts them in a weekly pill case. If you don’t feel comfortable with a weekly pill case, then just have them take out the pills for the day. When I start feeling suicidal or am not doing well, I let him know, and he puts the weekly pill case in the box and gives them to me daily, until I tell him otherwise. This has saved my life and has taken out the temptation to even want to take them/overdosing. (Plus the fact that I cannot stand charcoal deters me quite a bit too, yuck!).

If you are a family member with a loved one that has a history of taking pills/overdosing and you are willing to do this you may want to discuss this with them and see if they would be willing to do this.
A safe box can be bought anywhere, mine was from Wal-Mart and it cost around $30.00 and was well worth every penny. They have some with keys and some with a PIN code.

Question

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Sooo… I was posting to my blog and brought up my age, which got me thinking… And I thought it would be good to share. As a teenager and young adult, for some reason I gave myself an expiration date. I figured I would be dead by the age of 26. Don’t ask me why I picked that number, because I don’t have a clue. Anyway, I figured by the age of 26 I would have either taken my own life or died by risky/stupid behavior. Then I turned 26, and was still alive. I stopped thinking that after that year. When I think of it now, I think it was kind of strange, yet not, because of everything I was going through, the difficulties, struggles and confusion. I was not sure I would be able to handle all of it year after year. Yes, I have been very close to death a few times, but by some miracle, I am still here. I am now 37 and am amazed that I have made it to this age. I am also glad I am still here. I never thought I would be alive this long. Although I only recently started “living”. Before then it was all a miserable fog. Life happens so fast. In the blink of an eye, we are here, then we are gone. When I was younger I thought 30 was old :) Now that I am almost 40 I no longer think that. I still feel like a kid. It took me so long to finally appreciate life and everything it offers, the good, bad and ugly. Not sure what exactly I am trying to say, kind of rambling. I guess I would like for those that are struggling to know that life is worth living, every minute of it. There are good times and bad times. Not everything is shit all the time (I know, I used to think that). Take the time to appreciate all the good, no matter how little. Practice thankfulness, the more you do it, the easier it gets. Try looking at life from different perspectives.
Okay, I think that is it for now :) Much love! ~Bekr
Did you give yourself an expiration date also?

A gun… a permanent scar… many suicide attempts… but she is STILL alive!!!

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She was having an extremely rough time with life. She was recently divorced and living with her parents. She felt hopeless and useless. Not to mention her “boyfriend” at the time was a total asshole. She was with him because she feared being alone, even though being with him she was more alone than ever. He made her feel worse about herself, he didn’t really care about her. (relationships and mental illness, that will be in another post).

So she was ready to turn in, she was done with life. She felt she had nothing to live for. She was very upset and was not thinking, nor was she in her right mind. She was not thinking of all the pain she would leave behind. At that moment all she thought about was ending her unbearable pain.

She got in her car and went to a gun store. She looked at guns and found a nice little gun that would serve its purpose. The store clerk gave her some paperwork to fill out. She filled it out, and when she came to the question : Are you depressed? She answered “no”. Then the other question: Are you suicidal? Again, she answered “no”. She thought these were pretty stupid questions, if someone wants a gun to kill themselves of course they are going to lie, otherwise they would not get the gun. Anyway, they ran the paperwork through. She was not sure what kind of check or background check would be done. After they sold her the weapon, she figured they didn’t do a real good job of a background check.

She drove to the lake with the intention of ending her pain forever. She sat there, in the car, and cried and cried. She put the gun to her head a few times, but she could not pull the trigger. She could not think, her mind was full of madness. She was confused. Her cries turned to screaming and sobbing. She wanted to pull that trigger, yet some tiny little part of her did not want to, could not. She knew that would be it, she would be gone… forever. She was not sure what to do. Having that gun in her hand scared the shit out of her. How did it come to this? She had many suicide attempts before, most of those times it was with pills. Much calmer and quieter and not so messy (until her stomach was pumped). The gun seemed so violent. She wasn’t sure how long she was in the car screaming and crying. There were people in the far distance. She had her windows open. She thought maybe someone will hear her and come to her and help her. But nobody came, they were probably scared for their own safety. Who in their right mind would walk up to a car with a woman in it with a gun that is screaming and crying. Surprisingly nobody called the police either.

Her mind filled with madness, she pointed the gun to her head and was ready to pull the trigger… But instead she lowered the gun and then pulled the trigger. The bullet pierced through her 2nd and 3rd toe on her left foot. The pain was excruciating. She was then hollering and crying like a mad woman. Someone finally called the police and an ambulance. Someone must have heard the gunshot. She doesn’t remember much, it all became kind of blurry (with the exception of some clear memories). The ambulance got there before the police, the EMT was really friendly, he asked her if was she suicidal, she said no because she did not want to be committed. She had been committed many times before, and didn’t want to be committed again at this particular moment. So she thinks he (the EMT) took her gun and threw it in the lake. She really isn’t sure what the cops were told, she thinks they were told it was an accident.

Next thing she knew, she was in the ambulance. She was in so much physical pain. They gave her morphine, but for some reason it did not help at all. She was in so much pain, it was awful. And she was still confused. She was admitted to the ER.  X-rays were taken to determine the damage. It wasn’t to bad, it could have been much worse. She had to wait for a podiatrist or some other kind of specialized doctor that was on call to come in and determine what needed to be done. While waiting she was still in so much physical pain… then came the shame… she felt like a total asshole. I asked if my family was going to be called, the nurse said “you are an adult” along with some other smart ass comments that she does not recall. So she asked, “can you call my parents?” and they did, they showed up as soon as they could. The doctor (specialist) showed up. He gave her a few numbing shots on the top of her foot which hurt more than the actual gunshot wound hurt. Those numbing shots did nothing for the pain. When he was stitching her toes back together she was screaming her head off. Again, part of her felt like a total ass and a big baby. People were probably wondering “what the hell is going on with that crazy screaming woman?” She was not in a room, but in a closed curtained section in the ER, so she was sure everyone could hear her. She was good at lies and told all the doctors she was not suicidal and that it had been an accident. They either really didn’t care or were pretty stupid. But once she was done they released her.

It took a couple of weeks for the wound to heal. It healed well and she had no problems walking. The shame and embarrassment she lived with for a couple of weeks. She felt so stupid. She eventually got over it.

She realized her guardian angel or some higher power was looking after her that day. It could have ended much worse. She was not aiming at anything when she pulled the trigger… that bullet could have gone through any part of her foot… anywhere else there probably would have been some serious damage. But that did not happen. Just like the other times she had tried to commit suicide. There was always something watching over her. One time she jumped off of a 2nd floor balcony, she was completely drunk and had no sense of anything. She hurt her back pretty bad, after having x-rays, her lower vertebrae were compressed. She hasn’t had any real problems with that. Occasionally her lower back feels tight and has difficulty breathing, but it only lasts a couple of days. Again, she was being watched over, that incident could have ended much worse too, even though it wasn’t a far fall down. She could have landed differently and done some serious damage.

She was saved again from her last attempt. She had taken over 250mg of lorazapam (Ativan). She did not tell anyone. She took the pills later in the evening and went to bed. She was ready to go to sleep forever. Something woke her up and for some reason she sent out an e-mail to a few people about what she had done and explained why she did it and apologized. This e-mail was sent out around 1AM or so. She wasn’t expecting anyone to check it until the morning, and by then she would be gone. Well, one person got a notification on their phone that they had received an email, so they checked it. By then she and her husband were sleeping. This person who read the e-mail kept on calling and calling my husbands cell phone to make him aware of what I had done. He did not answer the first few calls, but he eventually got up and answered. Of course he was devastated. The ambulance was called. She doesn’t remember much, by then the medications were taking effect. She does remember the EMT’s being extremely rude and harsh with her, but she was so out of it, she did not care. She was taken to the ER and had to drink coal. It was disgusting, she hated it. She does not remember the rest of the day or evening. It was decided she would be committed.

That was the last time she attempted suicide. It was November 2009. This was probably the closest she had been to death. This woke her ass up. She realized that she was being kept here for a reason. There must have been a reason. Of everything she had gone through and done, she should have been dead many times over. But she wasn’t.

So she is now dedicating her life to spread the message of hope. To let others that are in the place (mental state) she was, that it does get better, and that struggling through the bad times is definitely worth it. And that they are not alone in their pain.

Never, EVER give up!!!

That little scar is a reminder to her of how precious life really is.