“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality”.
How would you go about explaining to people why you attempted suicide? Where do you possibly begin? How do you go about looking the same people that thought they knew you in the eye? How?
Before you can even begin to answer these questions, you’ll be inundated with ‘why?’ or ‘how could you?’ Why should we answer these questions if we ourselves don’t know why or what pushed us over the edge. These are the things that I had to reflect on when I was in a period of recovery. It took me a long time to get to this stage and I have trouble remembering most of it. I wouldn’t even want to know what the heck I was thinking.
It was October 2018, close to the end of the month and my depression was at a real high. I was also consuming alcohol (which I honestly regret) and going through about two bottles of red wine a day. I felt pain throughout my body. My mind felt like it wanted to explode and I wanted it all to stop. To make matters worse, I wasn’t medicating myself as prescribed by my doctor and I lied about it to my wife. This was a concoction that would only lead to a disaster, of which it did. At the time I was blaming everyone else around me and didn’t see anything wrong with what I was doing. I was just ‘chilling’ in the garage and passing out in a camping chair.
One night I just couldn’t take it anymore and I accused my wife of wanting me dead. Enough was enough. I headed to the kitchen and darted for my pills. I removed each and everyone one from its packaging and spread it across the kitchen counter. I was manic then. I was going to take my life. I made a video recording (which when played now is scary as shit). I wasn’t making any sense, as I was drunk and pumped with mania. After recording the video I just scooped a handful of pills and finished them all.
I preferred having an overdose as to inflicting any physical harm on myself as I wanted to leave the world ‘peacefully’. It’s ironic to think that I would leave a complete mess behind. According to my wife I stumbled back to the garage and couldn’t keep myself on my feet. She said that I collapsed on the couch and that’s when she called the paramedics. I was out.
After listening to all the things she told me about what happened next, I can’t imagine what I put her through. I vomited all over myself and the paramedics. The floor was covered in what seemed like I spilled my guts out. I was transferred from one state hospital to another as they tried to get me into a stable condition. I had no idea that I was going to do this and cause this much harm to everyone that I love and everyone that cares about me.
That’s just the thing – you just don’t know. That’s the power that bipolar had over me. It turned me into someone that couldn’t reason, even if my life depended on it. After waking up in the third hospital (fortunately it was a private one, yes!), I was miserable in that my attempt was unsuccessful. But that was not me. However, this would not be the end of it all …
I would love to live my life right now, but who knows what’s waiting for me around the corner. I could easily slip into a depressive mode or launch myself from a manic state into a depressive one. For now I am trying to spot certain behaviors in myself that could easily lead me down that path. By identifying them I could possibly, if not entirely, prevent myself from going bonkers again.
If you’re not in a good space right now, then first think it through and give yourself a chance at life, as it is worth living. For what it’s worth and coming from me, you can make it through and suicide is not the way out.
That’s my mind’s mischief. A blog.