| Dawn |
AZ USA |
35-44 |
Female |
Where do you begin with a story so dark a part of so many lives? 'My' suicide attempt was not really mine, as it has altered so many lives, both back then, and to this very day. The four children born out of my son's recovery from what I attempted to do to myself, are all living reminders of how what I intended to do to only myself, rewrote the futures of so many others.
Those were such awful, dark days, after my divorce in April of 1996...so many excruiating memories, so much bitterness and rage at being tossed aside, like garbage, after enduring through 16 years of every sort of abuse there is, from the husband of my impetuous youth. After he was through with me, I had 'no identity left', 'no friends left', I 'didn't even have the company of my only child to comfort me' in my aloneness. He had succeeded in ripping everything away from me, just like he'd predicted years earlier he would do to me. So, I spent every day wishing I could die, just to escape the agony I was left with as my only companion. And, oh, I was so angry! The day of my attempt on my life was a 'black rage' day, in my memory...as black and dark as death itself. I wanted to make him pay, to make him as miserable as he had made me. And in my sick, delusional state of mind, making him listen to me as I plummeted to my death, and to have to be the one to identify my bloody, broken, body and explain to our son why I did it, was the'perfect punishment' for the likes of him! That dreadful night, the Gilbert AZ Police still talk about, as the wierdest, london-pea-soup fog, descended upon the city, a fog like no one had ever seen in the area, before or since. My plan was to drive to a location where I could jump to my death from the outside stairwell of a four story parking garage, while the man I used think of as 'my protector', would be listening to me hit the pavement below, from a cell phone. But that night, a miraculous, wierd fog completely prevented me from finding my way to this location. Finally, after hours of driving around in circles, and downing a couple bottles of medication I had with me all at once, I gave up, as I was feeling too weak and ill to continue. I let a friend talk me into checking myself into the hospital. As soon as I agreed to do this, that blessed fog lifted, and I was able to drive myself to the hospital. There, I was promptly arrested at my ex's insistance, and after 3 days in Sherriff Joe's hell-hole of a jail, I was sentenced to being barred from returning to Arizona for 2 years. This very odd sentence, by a City Court Judge, also was instrumental in saving my life, as it took yet another 3 suicide attempts over the next 2.5 years before I fully stopped wanting to die. Today, I am fully recovered. I now have so much to live and be thankful for, that it seems like someone else's story, a very long time ago, when I remember those terrible, black days so long ago. I can only pray that my story will aid someone else who is in that same horrible place of wanting to die, because of the abuse of someone they loved and trusted. I hope my words here will help you to realize that'THEY' aren't worth your precious life, nor one more minute of your thoughts or time! For what it matters, I have now been blessed to still be alive to witness my ex's utter destruction, financially and spiritually, by no less than the malignant woman he married after he dumped me! So, my friend, take it from me, there IS justice, there IS a God, and if you will just Get Out of His way...He is more than Good and more than Capable of avenging all our wrongs, and far, FAR better than we ever could ever dream of doing ourselves! So then, Go ON...forget them, and LIVE a happy life...All my love! |
| Holly |
Alberta Canada |
0-24 |
Female |
I was 15 years old and about to finish grade 9. One night I got an eery phone call from my mother who just wanted me to know that she loved me (told me about 10 times). Little did I know that hours later I would be looking at her lifeless body and answering the question of whether or not I wanted her to be resusitated should she fail to breath on her own. I told the doctors that with her having only 2% chance of a normal life that I wanted them to let her go. She had wanted to go, so I did the right thing. My mother played with suicide for all of her life. It was kind of expected that she would eventually do it. My mother also suffered form schizophrenia as well. I suffered from her schizophrenia. I was her caretaker, because all her family disowned her. I was the one who took all of her burden on. So when she died I did feel relief, selfish relief. If you went through what I did you would not judge that sense of relief. No more midnight calls about someone trying to kill, or rape me. No more police coming to my school because my mother had told them she was going to kidnap me for my health. No more walking on eggshells, looking over my shoulder.
Truthfully, I am now older with my own family, and I miss my mother. In all her maddness there was a deep sense of understanding. Sometimes I wonder if she actully had it right, while everyone else was wrong. I replay her last phone call, I relive her funeral, and I live forever with her ghost. I tell myself I was just a kid, but I still think there should have been more support for my mother, and for me. Maybe I could have talked longer to her that day, maybe offer ot go for coffee. I was too embarrassed by her illness to invite her to my grade 9 grad. What would have happened had I of done that?
My daughter was suppose to be born on my mothers b-day. So I know she is with me. My daughter was born 9 days before.
Suicide is such a horrible thing. I know that I have dealt with the issue for almost all my life, even if it was someone elses issue. It is hard, and at times it seems like no one really gets it, unless they have been through it. Death through illness, or car accidents can eventually be understood. Suicide will always leave the question why. I miss my mother especially now that I am a mother. I wish she was stronger, better, healthier. But she couldn't be. I understand it. It just gets hard sometimes not having a mother. I can tell my daughter about every detail of her birth, but I know nothing of mine. It wasn't important to me when my mother was alive.
There are days that I forget about the suicide. But there are also days when it floors me so badly that all I can do is curl up in a ball and cry hysterically. I am still mad, hurt, and emotional and it has been 15 years. If you are reading this, please take what I say and remember it always. Suicide is so selfish. It destroys people, people who love and care about you!!
I Miss my mother painfully, Holly |
