Okay... story at 7:30 PM instead. 
Like I said, I came this close to killing myself today (last year). I remembered the day when I noticed I'd put on the same outfit I'd worn that day a year ago, and I haven't worn it since. Weird.
I was working some god-awful temp job that involved a ton of boring data entry. This gave me nothing but time to think about my recent breakup. I had been dumped on 5 May, and I'd been doing nothing but crying for three weeks. I was very lonely, as he was one of three friends I had in town (and the other two aren't social), and I lived alone. Plus, it was hot and sunny thanks to spring, so that just added to it.
I have to preface this by saying that I'm one of those people that can't stay upset for very long. Even if I'm crying, something will make me laugh to snap me out of it. A friend once said that I'd find a way to laugh and dance in the middle of a plague.
So, when three weeks had gone by and not a single thing had made me happy, I started wondering if the pain would EVER go away. Nothing was helping -- dancing, watching movies, talking to friends, cooking, cleaning -- all of the usual things failed to make me smile. When Sorcha doesn't smile for three weeks, it's like a national emergency. Besides that, the pain wasn't fading, and everything in my apartment reminded me of him. I was sleeping on the living room floor, and that still didn't help.
I got home from work on that Friday and watched a little TV. Then, I went to the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the tub.
I was sitting there petting Morticia and crying as "our" song was going through my head. I ended up sitting on the floor for about an hour, just letting everything sink in. I realized I would never ever be happy again and that nothing was working. I decided that I just couldn't do it anymore. My life was falling apart because all I wanted to do was sleep. When I slept, I wasn't depressed because my brain shut off, but even then dreams were starting to creep in... dreams of being with him.
I walked out to the living room and started cleaning. It's funny how I didn't mind somebody finding my body, but god forbid they see a messy apartment. Gomez was following me around, and I remember crying into his fur and telling him I'd leave enough food to last a week, in case it took that long to notice my absence.
I walked into my bedroom to get my handgun (no pills or razors for me... takes too long), and as I was pulling open my nightstand drawer, I caught a picture out of the corner of my eye.
It was a picture taken at my brother's wedding that year. My dad and I were doing this silly swing dance to his favourite song ("Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin), as I'd requested it for him and then dragged him to the dance floor. We were having the time of our lives, and you could see it in the picture. I was laughing, and he was looking at me with the grin he had on his face in all of my baby pictures.
(Wow... that memory of the picture just brought tears to my eyes)
Anyway...
As I looked at it, I realized just how much pain he'd be going through at my funeral. His face would change from that expression to the one from Busia's funeral, an expression I'll never forget. As I paused to reflect on that, I realized my mother would probably be pushed to the edge of her illness from the stress and end up dying, leaving my father alone.
And THAT'S when the waterfall started.
I sat on my bathroom floor, near the tub, and cried and cried and cried until I was howling. I was hugging Gomez, and he was licking the tears off my face. I don't know how long I was laying there, but the sun had set by the time I got up.
As soon as I recovered, I went to my computer and did a Google search on "breakup suicidal depression". I read a bunch of message boards with similar stories to mine, and somehow... that lifted some of the poison away. Just knowing that I wasn't alone and hearing 8 million people say, "It will fade. I promise you," was just enough to take the edge off and make me put the gun away.
Also, and I realized this a few months later, doing that switched my brain from letting something overtake me to taking control of my life again. When my boyfriend dumped me, he had changed every thought I'd had regarding the future, and it was a big shock to me. I rarely date, so I've always been in control of my life... relinquishing part of that to someone is always hard, and this was the first time I'd been dumped and had to deal with switching gears again.
Taking control back was a big step. I was talking to a friend that night, and he suggested I go to an SCA event the next day, as it would reassure that I had a full, wonderful life before my ex. I took his advice, and while I was still depressed, it was wonderful seeing friends and falling back into old routines. When I got home, I watched "Rob Roy", and I remembered who I was and who I had been. I even caught myself having thoughts about an old friend who I'd seen at the event.
That night, I started making a mental list of all of the things I would have missed or not experienced had I gone through with it. It ranges from little things like my mother's smile and my kitties' purring to larger things like enjoying my classes and meeting certain people.
A year has passed, and I keep that mental list firmly tucked away. I hope I never need it again.
And that, my friends, is the story of How I Almost Died.
Like I said, I came this close to killing myself today (last year). I remembered the day when I noticed I'd put on the same outfit I'd worn that day a year ago, and I haven't worn it since. Weird.
I was working some god-awful temp job that involved a ton of boring data entry. This gave me nothing but time to think about my recent breakup. I had been dumped on 5 May, and I'd been doing nothing but crying for three weeks. I was very lonely, as he was one of three friends I had in town (and the other two aren't social), and I lived alone. Plus, it was hot and sunny thanks to spring, so that just added to it.
I have to preface this by saying that I'm one of those people that can't stay upset for very long. Even if I'm crying, something will make me laugh to snap me out of it. A friend once said that I'd find a way to laugh and dance in the middle of a plague.
So, when three weeks had gone by and not a single thing had made me happy, I started wondering if the pain would EVER go away. Nothing was helping -- dancing, watching movies, talking to friends, cooking, cleaning -- all of the usual things failed to make me smile. When Sorcha doesn't smile for three weeks, it's like a national emergency. Besides that, the pain wasn't fading, and everything in my apartment reminded me of him. I was sleeping on the living room floor, and that still didn't help.
I got home from work on that Friday and watched a little TV. Then, I went to the bathroom, and sat on the edge of the tub.
I was sitting there petting Morticia and crying as "our" song was going through my head. I ended up sitting on the floor for about an hour, just letting everything sink in. I realized I would never ever be happy again and that nothing was working. I decided that I just couldn't do it anymore. My life was falling apart because all I wanted to do was sleep. When I slept, I wasn't depressed because my brain shut off, but even then dreams were starting to creep in... dreams of being with him.
I walked out to the living room and started cleaning. It's funny how I didn't mind somebody finding my body, but god forbid they see a messy apartment. Gomez was following me around, and I remember crying into his fur and telling him I'd leave enough food to last a week, in case it took that long to notice my absence.
I walked into my bedroom to get my handgun (no pills or razors for me... takes too long), and as I was pulling open my nightstand drawer, I caught a picture out of the corner of my eye.
It was a picture taken at my brother's wedding that year. My dad and I were doing this silly swing dance to his favourite song ("Mack the Knife" by Bobby Darin), as I'd requested it for him and then dragged him to the dance floor. We were having the time of our lives, and you could see it in the picture. I was laughing, and he was looking at me with the grin he had on his face in all of my baby pictures.
(Wow... that memory of the picture just brought tears to my eyes)
Anyway...
As I looked at it, I realized just how much pain he'd be going through at my funeral. His face would change from that expression to the one from Busia's funeral, an expression I'll never forget. As I paused to reflect on that, I realized my mother would probably be pushed to the edge of her illness from the stress and end up dying, leaving my father alone.
And THAT'S when the waterfall started.
I sat on my bathroom floor, near the tub, and cried and cried and cried until I was howling. I was hugging Gomez, and he was licking the tears off my face. I don't know how long I was laying there, but the sun had set by the time I got up.
As soon as I recovered, I went to my computer and did a Google search on "breakup suicidal depression". I read a bunch of message boards with similar stories to mine, and somehow... that lifted some of the poison away. Just knowing that I wasn't alone and hearing 8 million people say, "It will fade. I promise you," was just enough to take the edge off and make me put the gun away.
Also, and I realized this a few months later, doing that switched my brain from letting something overtake me to taking control of my life again. When my boyfriend dumped me, he had changed every thought I'd had regarding the future, and it was a big shock to me. I rarely date, so I've always been in control of my life... relinquishing part of that to someone is always hard, and this was the first time I'd been dumped and had to deal with switching gears again.
Taking control back was a big step. I was talking to a friend that night, and he suggested I go to an SCA event the next day, as it would reassure that I had a full, wonderful life before my ex. I took his advice, and while I was still depressed, it was wonderful seeing friends and falling back into old routines. When I got home, I watched "Rob Roy", and I remembered who I was and who I had been. I even caught myself having thoughts about an old friend who I'd seen at the event.
That night, I started making a mental list of all of the things I would have missed or not experienced had I gone through with it. It ranges from little things like my mother's smile and my kitties' purring to larger things like enjoying my classes and meeting certain people.
A year has passed, and I keep that mental list firmly tucked away. I hope I never need it again.
And that, my friends, is the story of How I Almost Died.
VIEW 6 of 6 COMMENTS
I'm glad that you're still here
It does pass, funny how that works, and then you realize that maybe the person that broke up with you did you a big favor. That's how I try to see it, anyway.
Also very sorry to hear about your medical results and hope that everything can be taken care of easily. It sounds frightening to me.
Thank you for the kind thoughts on my hand. At first I was afraid that there might be nerve damage (my first fear whenever I injure myself), but thankfully nothing very serious. On the path to recovery as we speak.