Suicide, reality ain't what the brochure said it would be

Kids, teens, collegiates, whatever, have been killing themselves left and right.  Technology has become an enabler, helping those on the edge dive off of it.  There are groups - G-R-O-U-P-S - for people who want to kill themselves online.  These places have recommendations for how to go about it. 

Now, chubchub, do you really want to spend your last three days getting to know a bunch of pussies?  

Oh, that got your attention, didn't it?

Yes, I just said people who commit suicide are pussies.  Back up off my nipples.  This is about to get good.  

Before I continue, I have to say to friends and family who sloshed into the pit with me during that time --I love you.  Turn back from this blog.  You should not have to go through this twice and I'm not asking you to take this journey with me, again.  You were there when it counted and I love all of you for it.  Now, it's time for me to do my part and pass the buck. 

There are pro-suicide groups popping up everywhere. The insanely funny thing is, someone will come along and post about wanting to commit suicide. And people will respond en masse about just the way to do it.

Maybe I’m missing something, here. If anybody is alive to give advice on suicide, didn’t they either A) fuckin’ fail or B) not go through with it to begin with?

So why the hell take advice from a wanna-be? Listen to me, the has-been.  I know what the hell I'm talking about, here.  It's not glamorous or goth or emo.  The reality of suicide isn't what the brochure said it would be.  It's raw and tortured for loved ones who suffer the loss, like an exposed nerve which never heals. 

Why would anybody want to get advice from somebody who pussed out in the last minutes, and then proceeded to vicariously die through others on some shitty suicide site?

Some of these places are even clubs.  SUICIDE clubs.  I mean, I know most clubs have life-time memberships, but this is a really sleazy way to maintain that.

What about paying dues? Okay, they pay the first years dues, but if they’re alive to pay the second years doesn’t that make 'em a hypocrite?
Shouldn’t they have offed themself by now?

Oh, I get it. They don’t really want to off 'emself. They just want to be emo and whine about how cruel life is, in addition to discussing the ways they can (WILL!) kill themselves while imagining the pain and horror family and friends experience.  Someone's an attention whore. 

Let's knock down this fourth wall and go head to head, former suicide to future suicide.  Does it get you all weepy fantasizing about your own funeral? How people will realize what a great person you were, and how they should have appreciated you while you were still here?

Why the hell aren't you giving them a chance to?  If you deserve peace, doesn't your family at least deserve the opportunity to speak theirs?

For the rest of y'all who are talented enough to be unaware this far into my blog, almost a decade ago I tried to commit suicide.    

I didn't twitter it live.  I didn't pound out blogs about my despair.  I wasn't bullied online.  I shut myself off, locked myself in my room for months, and early one morning I took a bunch of pills. 

This next part kills me and I hate talking about it, but if you or someone you know is considering suicide, you need to hear this. 

I was hiding in the dark and shooting every individual down who tried to bring me into the light, just like I always did.  The suicide was an attempt to kill my body, and after failing, the venom became an attempt to kill my soul, to keep me from caring anymore.  It wouldn't matter if I hurt others if I just didn't care about it.  But it did matter.  Oh, not in the hold-your-tongue-and-never-cuss kind of way, because I sure as shit did not plan on quitting cussing or speaking my mind, but I had to learn to let others help me, to let them hold me and warm me and love me instead of rejecting them because I did not feel worthy of such devotion, of such compassion. 

My mind dances and leaps and hides every time I try to think about this, but this is the truth.  It took me ALMOST A DECADE to write about this, which is how deeply it affected me.  For years I said I didn't remember the morning I took the pills clearly, but that wasn't true...not entirely.  I could remember, I just never could bring myself to try.  So, the memory stayed tucked away in pristine, painful condition.  Until this last year. 

What is it I ran from?  The call to my parents the morning I overdosed. 

“Mom?  I just…I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.” 

“Baby?  What’s wrong?”  Alarmed, she’d come fully awake. 

“I’m so tired.  Just going to sleep.  I wanted to say I love you.” My words were slow and thick, difficult to expel.  I had things to say, but suddenly could not say them. A lump in my throat swelled and I swallowed desperately, trying to make these last moments count. 

“Where’s *Jennifer?  Brittni, Brittni!  Get *Jennifer!  We’re coming!  Mike, talk to her!” She screamed, begging me to get my roommate.  The anguish in her voice was like a butter dipped razor, slicing through me to bone. 

No, I thought, my body slowing and my mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with wool, it was a mistake.  Not at this price, not for them…They don’t deserve to pay this. 

My father got on the phone, broken some place where only I had been able to reach.  “No, baby, no.  Please, just…stay with me.  God, baby, stay with me…please….Don’t do this.  You didn’t have to do this…Please, baby…” 

My third time talking about this, there are tears in my eyes even now.  You think your life is miserable?  You think your pain warrants an easy way out?  Don't believe the bullshit.  Suicide IS an easy way out but only FOR YOU, because the mess you leave behind is devastating.  YOU'RE the only person who's getting what they want in this equation.  Everyone else is losing someone they love, and not only that, they're doing it by having conversations like the one I had with my own parents, only when they reach you there are no second chances like there was for me. 

I have a unique perspective, here.  I saw what my suicide did.  And in essence, I succeeded.  I committed suicide and I emotionally scarred everyone I love.  My parents, my best friends, my grandmother...every one of them had to deal with my death.  My grandmother is always feisty, always ready with a tough or harsh word so you know what she thinks of any situation, no matter what it is.  Do you know what she did early that morning, as the sun rose while I lay in critical condition in the ICU?  She WEPT.  No words, no sarcasm, not even a 'what the hell were you thinking?'.  She simply wept. 

My Granni Boi, I am so sorry for putting you through that and I am so grateful for your patience with me.  

This isn't easy, but that's why I'm doing it.  I know what the temptation of death tastes like.  'Everything would be so much better if I weren't here.  People would be happier, I wouldn't be holding others back, and all of this pain would end.  I wouldn't have to explain anymore.  Everything would just...stop.'  

Suicide is selfish because it's the end for you, but only the beginning for everybody you love-- the beginning of their pain, the very thing you want to kill yourself to take yourself out of.  You're inflicting this on your brother, your sister, your mother, your father, your friends, your cousins, your aunts and uncles, your grandparents, your neighbors, your teachers...anybody who has ever cared for you, and you are inflicting this upon yourself, as well.  On your future, on every smile from this moment on, on the children you may have, the lives you might change, and the mistakes you will make. 

YOU are not the face of suicide.  Friends, family, loved ones are the face of suicide, because they are the ones who have to clean up the mess and fill in the space we left behind. 

Sometimes life thickens, makes it hard to move through.  The pain becomes the only steady point we have, but pain is proof of life and the potential for getting better.  You're not broken, you don't need to be fixed.  You just need someone to listen.  If they don't, MAKE them.  Pull out the S word if it's on your mind, and they WILL stop.  They DO believe you're important and have hope for your future, even if you feel overwhelmed and underloved.  The pace of life is constantly changing and it's easy for anybody to get self-absorbed.  It doesn't mean they do not care or love you, or that they would not be devastated by your death.  It just means if you need help sometimes it's easier to be the one who reaches out than to wait for someone to slow and notice.  GIVE the ones YOU LOVE the chance to LOVE YOU...just this once.  They WILL NOT LET YOU DOWN.

If anybody is having suicidal thoughts, please contact:

1-800-SUICIDE (1-800-784-2433)

1-800-273-TALK (1-800-273-8255)  

Let's Get Some Controversy Going, Going..Really Rollin'

I find women attractive.  I am married to a man.  This does not mean I:

A) am looking for a woman

B) encourage my husband to look for women

nor

C) am a sexual deviant

 

Many women find other women attractive, yet do not intend to act on it for whatever reason.  I have female friends who like to watch manless pornos, but do not want to be intimate with another woman.  Had I not gotten married to my husband, I would have dated a woman if the opportunity arose.  I met the Dikini first, though, so he's the person who got my heart and body.

 

You're now wondering what the hell I am on about.  I'm getting there, ya fudge-mustache.  Gimme a second, will ya?

 

Kinsey, folks.  He had a good point.

 

I play free online poke when the mood strikes.  Yesterday, a man (Named Shogunate, yes, really) tried to hit on me at a table.  I told him I was married and he persisted, trying to convince me I should take a risk and indulge whatever strange notions bowled around in his head.  When I told him risk was good in poker but bad in a marriage, another woman liked my response and told me so.  He then called the woman a lesbian, referred to her as Ellen, and called her a carpet muncher. 

 

Oh yes, he soooooo did. 

 

I came to her defense and told him I was half lesbian, just not a practicing one, and that he could call me Ellen, too.  Then I joked my husband thought he was lucky because he doesn't get in trouble for looking at an attractive woman.  Meanwhile, the guy is still making homophobic comments about this woman at the table for some unfuckingfathomable reason.  The woman told him she was married and the guy responded he was, as well...+ three kids.

 

Then he turned his attention back to me and told me I had a lot to learn about relationships and my husband was likely cheating on me that very second.  If I allowed my husband to look at other women, it would only be so long before he broke the Cerberus chains all women affix to their husband at marriage and went wild, humping everything in sight as Cerberus itself probably wanted to do but never had a long enough lunch break to achieve.

 

I paraphrased that last bit.  Damn the bastards of nay.  Tell a guy not interested and suddenly I'm attacked for being faithful, while he (without realizing it) admits he was trying to be UNfaithful.  And because I said women were attractive, I immediately had questionable fidelity and--this cracked me up--was said to have watched too much porn by a Shogunate sidekick trying to get his Yays in.  For those of y'all unfamiliar with midgetspeak, after I said I think women are attractive another guy at the poker table feigned disgust, implying because I think women are attractive I must act on it, and then said I was shameful and watched too much porn.     

 

Absoludicrous.  I'm not going to lie about finding women attractive, but that little fact does not give me special privileges in a marriage.  I am in a heterosexual marriage and I don't intend to indulge in anything else.  If asked, I will tell you my attractions may blur the line, but my actions do not.   

 

He really took the cake and the ice cream when he said, "Midget, you have a lot to learn about trust in a relationship." 

 

Excuse me, Freud, but do you realize what you're preaching is the exact opposite of trust?  Even if trust had an ugly, inbred third cousin once removed, ^^^^^^ would not be it.  By your estimation, a man can only be faithful if I spritz him with a water bottle or order him not to look at other women.  Such a case would be me being controlling, not him being faithful, in case you missed it.  You gave an accurate portrayal of bitter projecting, however.  It's rather obvious you feel your wife does not care, and try to get in a little Throckmorton Magycka when you're feeling underappreciated.  Here's a tasty little tidbit you don't know, Spudnick.  YOU are cheating to get CAUGHT.  You are not doing it because you cannot keep it in your pants; you are doing it because it's been a while since your wife has been in 'em and you want to needle some passion out of her.  When I shot you down in front of other people, you took it poorly and went on the offensive.  

 

If you're desperate, try sitting on your hand.  I hear that makes masturbation more exotic for guys.  Or not.  I really don't care what you do with your penis, so your wife and I have something in common, it seems.

 

Trust has to be given IN FAITH to someone, not enforced.  YOU started by looking at women.  Your wife didn't stop you.  You talked to women.  Your wife didn't stop you.  You went out with women.  Your wife didn't stop you.  You had sex with them.  Your wife didn't stop you.  You're trying to punish your wife by playing a game of What can I catch in my pants?! 

 

I can't wait until you catch it's sequel, It's Incurable! Now, what?

 

Damn you bastards of Nay, you lemmings of Yay.  Hypocrisy is the fruit of ignorance, so congrats Shogunate, you're the biggest fruit I've met all year!