I have no idea why my gun misfired NOT once, but TWICE!!! Â After 11 years in law enforcement I am more than proficient in firearms, all kinds. Handguns to rifles, and I have an avid collection. Â But there I sat in April of 2010 in the flood control channel with the muzzle pressed against my chest, chanting and begging for a quick death. Â After my count down to five and deep breathing, “click.” Â Nothing. Â I screamed. Â WTF??? Â I checked the safety, in the off position… and repeated the same thing over and over again. Â No, I’m not getting into the play-by-play details but needless to say for whatever fucking reason my fucking gun misfired twice! Â GOD DAMNIT!!! Â I didn’t have the courage to try a third time. Â And so here I am, a year later, almost to the 1 year anniversary and I am feeling suicidal again. Â People know I suffer from clinical depression and they accept it, no big deal. I’ve lived with it for 25 years now, plus medication. Â But I can’t “fix” it now…I’ve hit menopause and everything is fucked up. The meds don’t work, I cry all the time, and I have no one to talk to. Â By that, I mean, who the fuck wants to keep getting the same phone calls from a depressed person? Â It’s wearing! Â And so I internalize everything. Â Did counseling for a long time, but ran out of money at the moment. Â Can’t see a city counselor because “duh” …I work for the city and if my job finds out I will be sent for “fitness for duty” and “let go.” Â Cops have no where “safe” to go to talk about this. Â And so I found this site.
I have been chastised for not “reaching out” enough and asking for help. Â So today I “reached out.” Â My very best friend of over 30 years, I told her I was suicidal and asked her if I could see her and spend some time with her to talk. Â Her response? Â She’s helping move her boyfriend’s friends. Â I’m devastated. Â The one person in this world I thought would NEVER let me down, ESPECIALLY when I ADMITTED to her I am suicidal….basically just sent me a message loud and clear that either A) she didn’t believe me; B) I wasn’t important enough or C) she didn’t want to be bothered. Â She knows about my suicide attempt last year. Â She must know I’m serious. Â Asking for her help took everything!
And so I return to my firearm. Â I’m not quite ready, not sure why. Maybe its because part of me still wants to try and “fix” this bullshit…. but facing that gun the first time is the fucking scariest thing I’ve ever done. Â Getting myself in that mind frame to pull the trigger again will be difficult and I’d much rather find another way. Â Hanging, perhaps….leaning against a rope tied to a doorknob until I pass out. Â It’s possible.
According to a spiritual medium I will get to Heaven, I just might be delayed a little with “homework” because I killed myself. Â I’m not looking for feedback. Â I really just needed to get t his out someplace “safe.” Â I have nobody to talk to. Â I still have my “list” from last year of what things need to get taken care of, but now I have two pups and a cat to worry about. Â I’ll think of something and add that to the list. Â I”m tired of fighting. Â I’ve already accomplished all my goals. Â Maybe my purpose IS to help on the other side. Â I’m so done.