My Hopeless Suicide

February 24th, 2009

A promise is a promise. I must tell you, however, I’d really rather not go back down this path. But who knows, we all are allowed to go through things in order that we are able to be a help to others when and where they need us. I’m still amazed at how that works out. So, here goes. Who knows, it may be intended for you.

How do we get into the deepest, darkest places that threaten to wash us out to sea where we are claimed by the merciless waves that seek to destroy us? Well, usually it’s a lot of little things that happen and eventually there is one or two major events that lead us to the conclusion that maybe life would be easier not lived. Suddenly suicide, something the VAST majority of us have thought about, becomes a very real possibility as a solution to our problems. I had arrived at that point.

I had pushed every person away in my life. I had lied to everyone about things I was doing, relationships I was having, places I was going and I had no choice but to push people away so that no one would know just how bad my life had gotten. I was drinking nearly every day and falling apart at the seams. I hated how I felt after I sobered up but drank again to get to that place where I didn’t feel the guilt. The cycle threatened to consume me. But that wasn’t the problem. I had lied to my boss and knew my end was near since there was no way I could forever hide what I was doing. He told me, “If you are lying to me, It won’t go well for you.” I was lying and he was right.

So I found myself one night sitting in the basement of my house with a loaded .380 pistol in my hand staring down the barrel and wondering if I would feel anything. I could see the bullet. I could feel the weight of the weapon in my hand. I could smell the gun oil I had used to lovingly care for this piece. The piece I had once trusted to save my life was now going to be the implement of my end. It was ironic. Drunk, I sat there and held it to where it needed to be held and suddenly I thought how selfish it would be for my family to find me with a hole in my head and a mess everywhere. How arrogant. My hand fell to my side and the gun bounced away. I cried and knew I was only one step away. Creed’s song, “One Last Breath” made so much sense to me! I don’t have all the words and maybe I’m not getting the same message others are, but this is it to me:

Listen to the song

“I seem to’ve found a road to somewhere and I”m trying to escape. I yelled out when I heard thunder but I’m down to one last breath and with it let me say, hold me now, I’m 6′ from the edge and I’m thinkin 6′ aint all that far down. I’m so far down!”

Those are the words I heard and it seemed to speak to me. Death wasn’t all that far away and the fall wasn’t so bad. It was right there and I could barely take one more breath. I so wanted to cry out. But,………..I didn’t get help I so badly needed. I inched closer to the edge of the pit and confirmed it wasn’t so far down.

Rarely is a suicide attempt an isolated event. Most times we look at it several times, make several attempts, before the actual event. I was no different. My next sad attempt was to take my YZF600R super sport bike out and try to crash it into a tree at a hundred miles an hour. Guess what stopped me? I loved my bike too much. Stupid, huh? My third attempt was when I had another go round with a loaded revolver. I sat there in the basement and again stared at the bullet in the chamber and saw it’s glistening tip shining at me and letting me know it was there to do as I told it to. All of them did what I told them to. I was a firearms instructor and a sniper. I could hit anything I aimed at from nearly any distance. But, I couldn’t do it. Grace overcame my intentions. No one knew. I walked out of the basement a normal appearing man, but empty inside. I could no longer hold the pieces of my jigsaw-puzzle-life together and it was crumbling. No one could tell what the picture of my life really was. It waw just a thousand little pieces all falling to the ground. And so I walked out the door on a late July night in 2002 and went for a drunken walk.

On that walk, something happened. I looked at the heavens and prayed, “Lord, only you can make it all end. PLEASE, make it all end. Amen.” And I laughed. Yep, I did. For some reason, things had gotten so bad that I yeilded it, for real that time. I laughed and said out loud to no one but the Lord, “I’m not going to like how this goes am I?” Somehow I knew I was going to die somehow, someway. 30 days later, I was dead. But that’s another story for another time. If you want to hear it, let me know.

But until then, know this: You matter, I’m alive today because someone made me believe that I matter and that I am loved no matter how bad I think I am and how unlovable I THINK I am. You are worthy to be loved and I want you to hold on. I’m living proof that despite how bad things are, there is hope and you can come out of this. You can’t see it now, but the sun will come up tomorrow, even if its cloudy and raining, it will come up! You believe that even though you haven’t seen it yet. So believe me when I tell you that someday it WILL get better. Maybe not tomorrow, but it will. You matter to me and I want you to stay. Hold on. I’ll look for you tomorrow.

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One Response

  1. Amy Says:

    This was really inspiring. Thanks so much for sharing your thoughts. I was once on the verge of suicide but then realised how much it would cost my family. I think these thoughts usually stem from feelings of worthlessness. You’re right, people are loved even though they don’t think they are. Thanks again :)

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