Special Place in Hell

From my previous entry I am extrapolating further on that special place in hell. You and I will be damned to spend eternity reviewing all Richard Simmons products over and over again. *shudder* Gives a whole new meaning to "sweatin' to the oldies."

Suicide is painful

Life went on, crippled soul and all. For 6 months I was physically and mentally numb to everything and everyone. Part of me was jealous of him, No more life to struggle with day after day after etc.. Part of me had a raw hatred and seathing anger for him. Another part felt like an infant that is desperately seeking attention.
I had considered suicide years earlier in my life and never got to far with the idea. Suicide is easy for me to contemplate, it always has been. Something in my family soup makes it easy. After the funeral, my brother Jason and I talked openly about suicide for the first time. Neither one of us were frightened by the contemplation of the final act. I have no fear of suicide and all its implications, and neither does my brother. Our older brother's suicide isn't the first one in our mother's side if the family and there have also been a couple botched attempts. I don't know what to think of all this. But since my brother's death I and my siblings are scarred enough mentally to never do the deed. We now see up close and personal how it affects those closest to you. That in itself has stopped me from ever doing it. However I will confess a sin about my personal decision about suicide. A couple months after my brother's death something happened to me physically.. The bacterial strain from my previous flesh-eating bacteria attack was still in my body and it reasserted itself aggressively. Started in the same location, an inch below my left eye. But this time I knew what it was immediately, even before it showed on the surface of the skin. There is an itch that won't go away and a tightness in the infected location as the bacteria becomes aggressive. So, I did something stupid and dangerous, I waited a whole day before I went to the doctor. I actually contemplated letting nature take it's course. In 3 days time left untreated, it would spread to my eye, then behind my eye to the brain and then dead.. It is a painful, but relatively quick way to go. But, obviously I didn't do it. The damage I would have done to family and friends would have been devastating and I came to my senses. But it was a close call.

Since my own death last year I have gained insight into the process of dying. There is a physical pull on your body, mind and soul to let go. It's very strong and almost impossible to deny when it's time. I sometimes wonder if severely depressed people feel that pulling sensation. If so, what a horrible reality that would be to endure. When I was dying there was a 2 minute time span as I fought the inevitable. My body and brain had shut down, but my mind had not and I refused to let go. Every second became exponentially harder to stay alive, It was the longest 2 minutes of my life. I don't want to contemplate someone having to make that fight on a mental level over a period of years as they fight internal turmoil. After my previous "Suicide" entry I remembered a morbid coincidence. My last words were "I'm sorry" too. I had a nurse at my side trying to keep me conscious as events turned sour. She was so wonderful, and I felt so sad for her plight as I was fading away. I wanted to stroke her face and tell her it would be ok. But the truth was in the way, so instead I apologized for making her so sad. Then the roar of the river was in my ears and the pull of the current took me away.

My death was no more tragic than anyone else's, including suicide perps. But our society stigmatizes these poor people. Society shuns them because they are considered weak and so called "mental defectives". Mental health treatment in this country is a travesty and is decades behind medical treatment and our discrimination against these poor people is criminal. Ever hear people say "If he really wanted to kill himself he would have done it already." or "He just wants attention." There is a special hell for these people.

If you are reading this and are considering suicide please remember, you can always kill yourself later, just don't do it now. Call someone, anyone just don't let go today.

Do you have a gun in your mouth right now? If so, take a minute and please call this number I - 800-suicide (1-800-784-2433) Toll-Free Nationwide USA 24 hours / 7 days a week. What have you got to lose?

A holiday to remember

My brother turned into a memory the evening of December 25th, 1993. His death was deliberate and willful with no regard for me. Suicide is never having to say you are sorry. Except, oh yeah, he did say "I'm sorry." We found his suicide note on the back of a past due phone bill. A drunken scribble of two words "I'm sorry." Don't worry, we paid the phone bill. His body was discovered Jan 1st, 1994 at approximately 9:00 AM. I didn't find out until 3:00 PM that day, not that it matters.

New Years Eve I had an intimate X-mas/New Years Eve holiday with 8 dear friends that are family to me. Everyone slept over at my insistence. I wanted everyone to let go and relax, but I'm too responsible to allow drunk and/or high driving. The next morning we all pulled ourselves together and went out for breakfast. We were all in various states of disrepair recovery, laughing, talking and enjoying our company together. Everything fit so well together, it is considered by all participants to be our best holiday together ever. Eventually, after many hours we left the restaurant. We were all too tired and hung over to go anywhere or do anything. We instead rented a couple of movies, that way some could sleep and others could just relax. By the time we got back to my apartment it was 3:00 P.M. We noisily spilled into my apartment and everyone scattered to their own tasks. I went to the kitchen to put away the groceries we bought for a possible evening meal. I remember my friend Debby telling me my answering machine was flashing 4 messages. I assumed they were probably well wishers for the holiday. I remember saying hit the play button and turn it up so I can hear.

1st message: L_ this is your grandma give me a call when you get home. (The tone was stiff and that wasn't unusual, she hated the answering machine.)

2nd message: L_ it's mom, if you are there pick up the phone, we need to talk right away. (she was upset, but her and my step dad fight heavy around the holidays)

3rd message: L_ it's mom again, you have to call me right away it's an emergency. (she hung up crying)

*At this point I grabbed the phone to dial my mom. The room had become quiet and eight people were staring at me. Then the fourth message came over the machine.*

4th message: L_ It's grandma again,(sobbing) you have to call your mom right away. Where are you?...We, we need you.. um to call us...uh..Wes killed himself, he's dead...(she hung up)

A collective gasp in the room and I drop the phone. They all stared at me in shock and horror with their mouths covered. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there in the kitchen, staring at everyone, nobody moved. Then I heard Rene say "oh my god" in her quiet mousy voice. That little voice broke the spell and everyone suddenly wanted to help me and sorta surged towards me. I am definitely not accustomed to this amount of sympathetic attention. I tried to back away but Tim grabs my arm trying to make me sit down. The physical sensation of touch snapped me into reality and I sat down and closed my eyes. I wanted the world to die. I so desperately wanted to be alone. I so desperately wanted this reality to cease. Knowing me, is knowing I don't want to deal with people in this situation. They conspired to leave me, but only if Evan could stay. I agreed, understanding they didn't want me to be totally alone. Evan is the closest to me, we knew each other since the 3rd grade. They all left and sympathies were exchanged, it felt like a funeral. I shut myself in my bedroom with the lights off and my mind flashing. I so wanted to die, just to end the thoughts screaming in my brain.
My soul had been stomped, beaten and shattered from 3 years old on up until I was 17 years old. At 26 I was starting to recover and with one click of a trigger Wes killed me too...

...more later, I can't do anymore right now.