Tag Archives: suicide

5 Reasons Not to Kill Yourself

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Credit: Topaz

Disclaimer: This post is ultra-serious. However, as they say, with us crazies it’s either laugh or cry. Well, today is a laugh-or-cry sort of day for me (hence the topic of this post), so please forgive me if I seem flippant about this whole topic. At least it’s kept me from crying.


My psychiatrist has had me on about five or six different types of medication for anxiety, depression, and bipolar disorder. Seroquel has left me groggy and in a zombie state of mind for who knows how long (My short-term memory has suffered — I can’t even remember what activities I did with my kids yesterday.)

I have decided to go off all of my meds except for Xanax and Klonopin (two benzos — uh oh). The Klonopin is supposed to provide more stability to aid my Xanax which is more short-term.

I could be setting myself up for something major. I don’t know. All I know right now is that I would rather have a clear (depressed) mind than one that is hazed and spaced-out.

I’m typing this while being on sub duty at my school. Things got so bad with my groggy and forgetful side effects from my meds that my doctor wrote me a note stating that I should be on light duty at my school for a month. Hopefully it doesn’t come back to haunt me professionally.

Talk about feeling useless. All around me today, teachers are upbeat, full of energy, chatting away incessantly, and having an overall grand time in life.

Me, I’m relegated to my empty classroom. I am typing this post instead of throwing up my hands in surrender and quitting everything in life — even my family. It’s that bad.

Which brings me to this blog post. 5 reasons not to kill yourself. Here goes:

 

1. It Takes Effort

All the research involved in how to successfully take your own life (and, believe me, I know) is overwhelming, and, if you’re already on the brink of suicide, why would you want to spend the effort doing all that research? It’s too hard.

And what if you fail in your attempt? Which brings me to…

 

2. You Will Probably Fail

This really sucks. Believe me, it’s happened twice to me already. The first time was traumatic to my wife, children, mother, and to my bank account. Not to mention my reputation and career.

There is a very good chance that your suicide attempt will fail. Need some statistics? Then Google some. They’re out there. And you don’t want to be hooked up to a feeding tube living out the rest of your life as a vegetable. (Couldn’t they just unplug me? You may ask. It’s much more complicated than that.)

 

3. Someone Will Miss You

Someone will. Who, you ask? I don’t know. But someone. Not only that, but that one person (or two, or three, or…) will slowly start to die from the inside out. I know. I watched my aunt slowly waste away to nothing after my cousin killed himself.

I’m beyond caring, you may be thinking. My pain is too great. Well, then, imagine that person saying, “[your name], I love you.”

 

4. What Awaits You? / Are Your Really Prepared For The Great Unknown?

If you’re a person of faith, wouldn’t it be against your religion? Wouldn’t you go to hell? For you atheists, what? What makes you think something better awaits you “on the other side” or wherever you think you go? Or, do you subscribe to Ozzy Osbourne’s theory that, after you die, you’ll be merely a turd flushed down a giant toilet, gone forever. [paraphrase]

Isn’t watching your favorite movies or drinking a nice craft beer under a shade tree better that being flushed into the big septic tank in the sky?

 

5. The Little Gems Hidden Throughout Every Day

You know what I mean. Biting into your favorite chocolate candy bar. Ordering pizza and watching a new movie on Netflix. Taking up a new hobby like bass guitar, not because you hope to ever join a band, but because you love the thumping pulse of the bass, and you like to feel the satisfaction of playing the intros of your favorite songs.

There are other gems: Feeding newborn kittens from a bottle at the local animal shelter. Treating yourself to a coffee and pastry at Starbucks. Curling up beside the fireplace with a good book.

Go find your nugget.

~t

 

 


The Reality of Suicide Attempts

 

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A family event yesterday caused me to spiral downward in a most drastic way. Before I knew it, what seemed like such an insignificant event brought me to the point to where I locked myself in my room for two days, refusing to eat. My two young sons didn’t know what to think; I imagine I hurt them a great deal with my irrational behavior. I was trying to prove a point to my wife, but the children were the ones who got caught in the crossfire.

I reached rock bottom this evening. I read in a mystery novel recently about a character committing suicide by swallowing Drano, a drain cleaning product made mostly of sodium hydroxide (lye). They sell it at any store like Walmart, so I was planning on making a trip there to pick up a bottle.

However, something told me to research it online — on my phone, of course; I didn’t want my family seeing the search terms “drano suicide” in the browser history. After my Xanax-and-booze attempt, I wanted a sure-fire way to kill myself.

What I read shocked the hell out of me. I found out that the most painful form (among many, I’m sure) of a suicide attempt is swallowing lye. If a person does indeed die from it, it could take days or months. The reason is that it burns the mouth, tongue, esophagus, and it also burns holes into the chest cavity. Years of painful surgeries would most likely be required.

That settled it. I was fortunate enough not to be turned into a vegetable for taking 40 Xanax pills mixed with tequila. (However, my memory has suffered somewhat — I can trace it back to that fateful night.)

From what I was reading, the human body is tough and harder to kill than people realize. For instance, slitting one’s wrists wouldn’t necessarily kill them. It may just damage the tendons and nerves in the wrists instead.

I remember the nurse at one of my hospital stays telling me about a man who once put a gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. The barrel of the gun wasn’t where it should have been to kill him. Instead of blowing his brains out, the bullet traveled right behind his eyes. He survived, but he was permanently blinded.

There were other deterrents that I came across: hanging oneself could just cause permanent brain damage; jumping from a high place might only cause permanent injury; overdosing on aspirin could only damage the kidneys, lungs, and liver instead of resulting in death.

After learning all of this, I became

1. disappointed and

2. scared.

Soon after that, my sons came into my room (I let them in) and asked if I could play outside with them. I said no because I was sad. My youngest left the room saying, “Daddy doesn’t want to play with us.” It broke my heart, but I was still too inwardly focused to do anything.

God knew I wanted to do the right thing. Before I knew it, I was outside in the dark, playing tag with my kids and having a great time.

If you are considering suicide, please remember this:

*Suicide is often messy, and the rate of success is not very high.

*If you by chance are successful, your loved ones (and you DO have people who love you) would be devastated for the rest of their lives.

My cousin committed suicide, and my aunt was never the same. Many say it caused her early death.

Hopefully this post will prevent your attempt. I pray it does.

~t

Information taken from the book Here Comes the Sun by Gayle Rosellini & Mark Worden

 


Just Before I Go: A Must-See for All of You Who Are Like Me

  

  
I was at Target recently with my sons to look for a Lego Batmobile set (which, my youngest learned in horror, had since been discontinued). While the kids were playing games on iPad demos in the store (How they quickly forgot about Batman), I took a look at the newest DVDs on a nearby shelf.

Not surprisingly, none of the titles rang a bell since I practically live under a rock. However, one title caught my eye: Just Before I Go. The actor’s melancholy expression and the tag line, Ending It All Was Only The Beginning, led me to believe that it dealt with suicide. Sure enough, I flipped the DVD over and read the synopsis. Sounded intriguing.

There was only one problem: Seann William Scott. Really?! He plays a total idiot in all his movies. Nevertheless, I jotted down the title in my iNotes (or whatever it’s called) to watch it at some point.

Tonight was the night. Friday after work. Wife and kids gone. Amazon rental. A nice bowl of Lucky Charms for dinner. I was set. I can always turn it off when the flick gets juvenile, I thought.

But… It didn’t.

Not an Oscar contender by any means, but it was GOOD. All the poignancy that I was hoping for.

**SPOILER ALERT**

I even started blubbering like a baby when Scott’s character met his deceased father on the lake during a near-death experience. 

**SPOILER OVER**

The movie is about a man who, before committing suicide, goes back to his hometown to confront some painful childhood memories “just before he goes.” I don’t want to reveal too much, except that this is not a screwball comedy. It tackles several thorny issues effectively I think.

Bottom line: If you are feeling depressed or even suicidal, do yourself a favor and watch this movie. Do it for me even. Screw what the film critics say about the film. They get paid to tear things apart. 

I loved the Emerson quote at the end:

When it’s dark, that’s when you can see the stars.

Just look up and they will always be there.

~t


Suicide: An Option Again?

  
*POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING*

A lot has been happening, good and bad. I got a new job, my dream job I guess, in a sub-tropical city. You might tend to think that life is perfect for me.

Don’t envy me yet.

I ain’t makin’ the big bucks for nothin’. I’m constantly stressed and live every moment waiting for my next Xanax fix. I almost died of fright when the pharmacy wouldn’t refill it until exactly 30 days had passed. 

As I type, my recent dose is starting to wear off, revealing the terror that dwells beneath my skin: worry and degrading thoughts from work today. See, I’m still a teacher, but my students are not just any students. I can’t reveal too much, but I wonder if it’s too much for me to handle.

Going back to my thankless job in Dallas has never occurred to me; that’s a step backward that I cannot take.

Today I considered suicide as an option for the first time in a while. If I lose my “dream job,” I would have nowhere else to go. 

Would I sadden a lot of people? Yes. Would it be worth the trade? Yes, perhaps. 

I can’t believe I’m thinking all of this, especially after God gave me a second chance with a new, improved life. The thing is, though, I’m still me; my innermost being is still the same weak, decrepit soul that can’t seem to “man up” and face my obstacles.  

Jeez, I’m still a kid!

But I’m not. Not really. I’m in my mid-40s. 

God, I’m really just a scared kid! I want my mom and dad!

But they’re not here. My wife is sick of my crap. It’s just me. And God. But I have never learned to consistently love God and be close to Him.

Suicide is not an option.

But it is, kind of.

I’m not supposed to type that here. It might be a trigger for some people. I have to tell somebody, though.

~t

(Photo by Topaz)


I Try Really ******* Hard

I really do. I do everything that is expected of me. I go out of my way to do well at my brand-new job. I really do try ******* hard at life.

I try hard to get accustomed to a new parish in a completely new city, a city that hasn’t shown any kindness yet. No one gives a **** whether I attend Mass or not. The local K of C council welcomes me by ******** and moaning about not having enough volunteers at events. 

I try really ******* hard at my marriage. I’m pleasant, loving, and I cross all of my *******  T’s and dot all of my ******* I’s. Doesn’t do a bit of good. The wife doesn’t care when I get home each afternoon.

I try really ******* hard to pay off my DWI debt to the county, state, and to the city. Everyone wants my hard-earned money; I can’t make it fast enough for them to snatch it out of my hands.

I try really ******* hard to enjoy life, but I don’t see the point a lot of the time. We live, we go through hell on earth, and we die. 

Bunch of ******** if you ask me. 

 


Everything is Meaningless

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I’m sitting here in my home office surrounded by a Catholic calendar, a crucifix, and various prayer cards featuring great saints through the ages. Knights of Columbus plaques line my walls.

My two beautiful, healthy sons are asleep in their bunkbeds. My loving wife has just gone to bed.

But I don’t feel anything.

I am empty, confused, angry, suicidal, dejected.

You can have all the Bibles, crosses, religious stuff, and everything else: the “NOTW” stickers that I see on the backs of so many cars, et cetera, but it is all meaningless.

Just like the wise teacher states again and again in Ecclesiastes.

Today I had to go outside to the far edge of my campus where I work because I had to get out of the building. I was on the verge of killing a student who had pissed me off with his smart-ass tendencies. (Sorry for the potty mouth — but it’s a big, bad world.)

I had to get away. There is a nature park on the grounds of my college campus. I sat there on a large rock and cursed at God the whole time. Cursed at him for the hand that I was dealt in life.

It takes EVERY OUNCE of my strenth and sanity EVERY DAY to “keep my head above water” in regard to my mental illness. Most other people hover above the water, floating around, singing and humming, enjoying life, enjoying work, enjoying being alive.

Not me. I curse God for giving me this depression/suicidal ideation/insecurity/anxiety/bipolar tendencies.

If you’re a nice church-going individual, I don’t expect you to be reading this far. Just take heart, you say. Have faith.

Ha.

If only it were that simple.

Last month, one of my favorite comedians of all time, Robin Williams, committed suicide due to depression. The nation mourned and paid tribute. Countless articles about depression and suicidal thoughts appeared on all sorts of blogs and news sites such as CNN, Huff Post, and Yahoo.

That’s all fine and great. But what about now? After the storm has blown over, people will just go back to forgetting about us. The articles will be fewer and fewer.

But know this: If you’re in the same boat as I am, I will never forget you. If you are reading this, whether you’re Catholic, atheist, whatever, I am with you in the crappy hand that life dealt to you before you were even born. I am at the poker table with you, crying and blubbering over the worthless hands of 2s and 3s that we’re holding.

Suicide hasn’t appealed to me as strongly in the past two years as it did today. A nice flowing river runs directly behind the nature park at school. I’ve read that drowning is an excruciating death. How bad could it be, though? Inhale a few breaths of water, keep my head underwater, and voila: freedom.

You’re a Catholic blogger, Topaz. Be more positive, some of you have told me.

It’s a cold, hard, motherf****r of a world, and right now, I’m being crapped on by laughing vultures.

same ol’, same ol’.

Hey, normal Christian/Catholic person out there, be glad that you’re “normal” (I’m not supposed to use the world “normal” because it’s relative. But I couldn’t give a s%@& right now.).

If you have time, pray for the poor bastards like us who have to talk ourselves out of suicide and dark depression before our feet even hit the floor after waking up every morning.

Remember us.

I’m out.

~t

(random photo by Topaz)


Keeping It Real: A Comic-Book Writer’s Response to a Fan with Suicidal Ideation

Marvel Comics

I’m not into the world of comics like I used to be. The extent of my collection consists of a few sets of manga that I bought in Japan that I use to hone my Japanese reading skills. (I’m not quite sure if the four-volume children’s set of Tonari no Totoro qualifies, but oh well.)

However, when a friend of mine shared a Tumblr post by Matt Fraction, a well-known writer of comics such as Hawkeye, The Invincible Iron Man, and Casanova, it gave me a whole new respect for Matt and his works.

A fan known as “whiskeyjack” asked the following question to Matt. I’ve edited some words to make it more family friendly, but everything else has been untouched. Here it is:

 

Sorry to put this on you but I have an honest question about depression an suicide. Isn’t it completely possible for it to be a alternative for someone. Can’t there be someone out there who genuinely is tired and doesn’t want to continue. I know there is beauty and wonderful things in this world. There are things to look forward to. There will be more pain but also more laughter. But what if I’m not interested?

 

How would a cool, famous comic-book writer respond to such a question? Or, rather, would he?

Matt’s response is rather lengthy but well worth the read:

 

well… well first off, i’d say, seek professional help immediately. because i am wildly unqualified to answer your question with anything but experience. and first off, my experience says, if you are in such a deep and dark place where you say things like this to total strangers on the internet, you need to be in contact with someone that can help you start to heal.second, i’d say… you’re wrong. i’d say the things any of us don’t know, especially about tomorrow, could blanket every grain of sand on every beach of the world with bull****. And to simply assume you are done tomorrow because you are done today is a mistake. a factual mistake, an error, a critical miscalculation.

i’d say, read Tad Friend’s piece JUMPERS in which he seeks and finds and talks to people that jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge — and lived. And they all say the same variations this: “I instantly realized that everything in my life that I’d thought was unfixable was totally fixable—except for having just jumped.”

And know that this piece has kept me in my seat on more than a couple dark nights.

And i’d say — i’d say i felt that way before too, and i was wrong.

And then i’d tell you something i don’t even think my wife knows. this happend years before we met — s***, more than a decade — and it’s not the first time i came close to suicide was on a thanksgiving night. i’d eaten well and then as the house shut down i went into the bathroom, drew a bath as hot as i could manage to stand, and climbed into the tub with a razor  blade.

As i started to cut, as the corner touched my skin and that jolt of pain fired into my head, i stopped and thought — y’know, last chance. Are you SURE?

And i was tired. I sounded like you, that i knew there’d be ups again and downs but i was just so f****** TIRED i couldn’t stand the thought of having to get there. I felt this… this never-ending crush of days that were grey and tepid but for some reason i was supposed to greet each one with a smile. the constant pressure of having to keep my s*** in all the time was just exhausting.

I wondered, then — well, is there anything you’re curious about. Anything you want to see play out. And i thought of a comic i was reading and i’d not figured out the end of the current storyline. And i realized I had curiosity. And that was the hook i’d hang my hat on. that by wanting to see how something played out I wasn’t really ready. That little sprout of a thing poking up through all that black earth kept me around a little longer.

I realized then that it had been so long since i’d laughed. I was numbed out and shut down and just… i missed laughing. maybe if i laughed a little i could get moving again. so i’d wait for my comic to conclude, try to find a few laughs, and then reevaluate.

So I’m in the bathtub and i got this real sharp-a** razor, right? And i look down and there’s all my bits floating in the water like they do and i thought okay, let’s get funny and i got to work.

I shaved off exactly half my pubic hair vertically. The end result was a ‘fro of pubes that looked like a Chia Pet that only half-worked. I started to laugh as I did it. And every time i’d p***, looking down made me laugh.

Because J**** what a nightmare.

Shortly thereafter I got very heavily into Chuck Jones and Tex Avery. Way less chafing and way more funny.

j****. i was still in high school at the time. dig if you will a picture of the chubby weirdo that was always giggling at his d*** in the bathroom. that was me.

And then I guess I’d tell you about Dave, who did the same thing as me a few years later, only DIDN’T have my hilarious Chia D*** strategy in mind and got the razor in and up. And as he started to bleed out “Brown Eyed Girl” came on the radio and he realized he’d never get to hear that again so, in a bloody comedy of errors — I swear to g** this is true — he got out of the tub, tried to get dressed the best he could, went downstairs calling for help only to find his family gone, went out to his car, and drove to doug’s house only to find doug not home and so, then, finally, he blacked out from blood loss sitting there in his car, playing a van morrison CD on repeat, until, by luck, Doug’s mom came home and found him.

F****** Van Morrison, y’know?

A song, a comic, something dumb, something small. From that seed can come everything else, I swear to g**.

I guess last I’d say… I’d say that, look — if you reached out to me for an answer, than I have to reach back out to you and insist you hear it.  Because it means, what, you know me? My work? You read my stuff and thought, well, f***, if anyone would know why I shouldn’t end my life, if anyone alive is QUALIFIED TO SAVE ME it’s the guy that had britney spears punch a bear? okay — okay, then, so as THAT GUY I’m saying: Get help. Now, today, tonight, whenever — get to a phone and find a doctor that can try to help you heal, that can try to recolorize your world again, that can help you start caring again. All you need is that one tiny thing, that speck, that little grain of sand. the World Series, AVENGERS 2, Tina Fey’s new show, the first issue of PRETTY DEADLY, some slice of the world you’ve never seen, some drink you love, who the f*** will love your dog like you do if you’re gone, what if jabrams KILLS it on the new STAR WARS, the h*** are you doing for Halloween, you ever feed a dolphin with your bare hand? because i have and I am f****** telling you IT IS A THING TO EXPERIENCE and oh g** WHAT F****** FONT WILL STARBUCKS USE ON THE CHRISTMAS DRINK SLEEVES THIS YEAR — i don’t care what or how dumb but i promise you somewhere in your life is that one fleck of dust that can help start you on the road back. That’s all it takes. One f****** mote, drifting through your head.

And because you asked me I am answering you because i know, mother******, i know, i know, i know the hole you are f****** in because I was there myself and if you look hard you can still see my writing on those walls and if you stare long enough i swear to g** it’s pointing to up

 

As my friend said, this is one of the most genuinely connective responses to someone with suicidal ideation that I’ve ever seen on the Internet.

When times are bad and you feel hopeless, just read Matt’s response. It’ll put things in perspective for you.

~t

The original quotes can be found here.