I am putting a lot of thought into my pending exit from this world. I have what I need to do it and do it right. I have a departure statement that I am working on for mass consumption, to be posted on FB as a note with tags to a select group of people who will act as hubs for anyone else who needs to know and I have done my personal apologies where possible. I have figured out how to make sure I am found right away by the police and not some random sap that likely doesn’t need that kind of interruption in their day. I am finishing off some writing projects and have the few artifacts I wish to leave people all packed and ready to go.
I am pretty close. I have a couple of weeks worth of loose ends to tie up and I am waiting for my dying grandfather to kick it before I go. Not because I like him but rather for the fact that he is an evil sack of shit who hates me as much as I do him and I won’t give him the satisfaction. It is all starting to become very real for me and I have been looking back at the previous attempt I made several years back.
It wasn’t meant to succeed or fail but rather to leave it to chance. I couldn’t really make up my mind and so I rolled the dice, taking a massive overdose of dilation (a seizure medication) and going for a leisurely stroll late one evening. I eventually passed out and woke up in the emergency room getting a tube snaked up my nose. I remember very little of that night except for this part which I recall in all its vivid glory. Kinda lame actually; if you have ever gotten your stomach pumped (and I bet plenty of you fuckers have) you know exactly what a party it is. Doubly so in my case since one of my nostrils is closed off and I had to get both tubes (not sure why the needed two) up the same hole in my head.
I was in the ICU for a week I think, though the first several days are just a few odd memories and very foggy. For several days after everything spun wildly around like I was drunk and I had to tape one of my eyes shut just to eat or take a piss—after the catheter came out anyway.
IMPORTANT:Â If you ever have a catheter, DO NOT, under any circumstances, attempt to remove it on your own.
Then it was off to the flight deck, as they say. This, by far, is the most humiliating part of the post suicide fuck-up process. Made to bake cookies and do crayon drawings about your feelings at the moment. It was good I wasn’t given a pen or pencil at this point as I surely would have stabbed my flunky councilor threw the eye.
“How are WE feeling today?â€
“Are WE doing better?â€
Well, I feel better but you’re about to be punched in the goddamn stomach, you condescending twat.
ALSO WORTH NOTING: Never tell your condescending twat of a flunky councilor that you are going to punch her in the goddamn stomach. This is what is known as an “actionable†statement and said “action†will not improve your mood in the slightest; typically involving two steroid-junkie orderlies so twisted and malevolent that the cops don’t want them on payroll.
I did meet a nice girl. Claudia her name was. She was eight years my junior (but legal—just) and we had a brief but distracting relationship that was crushed by my pedantic, effete, little prick of a doctor because her roommate ratted us out for having sex in their shower. She was sent to another hospital the next day. I still don’t get that really. We were both adults and you’d think they would be pleased that we found something as life-affirming as getting laid at every opportunity which presented itself.
Of course I know the reason why; suicide is BAAAAAD and you shouldn’t be REWARDED for such sinister behavior. These people are control freaks who don’t give a rat’s ass about you, they want you to get beaten into line and be good, productive citizens who show respect for custom, station, and propriety. I hope she is well wherever she is.
It was the weird randomness of my attempt that strikes me now though. It was done on impulse though I had certainly been thinking about it, and I very deliberately set things in motion so that I had a good 50/50 chance of either dying or being found in time. I don’t believe in fate at all, it wasn’t that—I just couldn’t be sure but I absolutely HAD to do something.
Now is different; I have no intention of fucking around. I have a .357 magnum revolver (a nice chrome smith and Wesson 686 with a six inch barrel) though it does have plastic hand-grips and for some reason wood feels like a better choice. Weird I should give a shit, isn’t it? I have also drilled out the point on a round to be sure it removes the bulk of my skull. This is not play time and surviving a bullet through the brain, while uncommon, does happen and is in no way something I am interested in.
I feel a little bad for you chicks as no of you seem able to do the gun thing. It really is a top-shelf solution to all your modern being dead needs. Oh well, just remember that if you take too many sleeping pills you will likely vomit all over yourself and live. So much for not making a mess.
In any event, I am puzzled by this behavior. Granted I was in a pretty twisted state when I did it so reasons may not be there to find, but I can’t help but wonder what made me handle things in that fashion. It is plaguing me in fact. I can’t help but feel that doubt, at this stage in the game, is something to fret over…
5 comments
first of all your funny (L). I enjoyed reading your (although longer than I would have liked) post. I watched a documentary called “The Bridge” which is about people killing themselves on the Golden Gate Bridge & it called that many people would be surprised how much logical thoughts goes into such an “illogical” act. Lastly I too have chosen a gun to be used in my exit. Its a .45 so it will get the job done, but your gun on the other hand is enough to get the job “DONE-DONE”. A .357M revolver can be used to stop a bear……….let that sink in for a sec………A BEAR.
Travel Well My Friend, regardless if you go through with it or not.
I met a girl on the flight deck too. We didn’t fuck but she had a habit of describing our wedding day while beating me at gin rummy. Other patients would gather in a peanut gallery.
No one wanted to play cards with us, they just wanted to punctuate points in her fantasy by asking me how I felt about say her choices about “our” honeymoon or brides maids gowns. Great post Twitch thanks for sharing a part of your story. 🙂
I kind of have an internet crush on you, Twitch. You’re funny, you’re sensitive…and even though I’m slightly afraid of your anger, you seem to be a pretty good guy. Your writing makes up for it:).
Anyway, I hope your grandfather takes a little longer to pass so that I can “hear” from you…and also, I have my fingers crossed that something great will happen before then. Maybe something that will change your mind.
I understand the thoughts you had during your first attempt. To be honest, I think that is where I am at the moment. It is very important to me that I do the best that I can, but part of me does hope to fail. I’m very scared, but at the same time, am not going to make this a “gesture for help” so I don’t know exactly what I’m hoping for. When it comes down to it, I am going to make this as well-planned as possible to ensure success and just give it a go. Perhaps that’s why I’m afraid to use a gun. That, and I really am some sort of hippie flowering overflow of a person. I’m a tree-hugging, dolphin-obsessed, justice-seeking “rights for all” type of person and I don’t want a gun to be my final exit. I feel like it won’t match who/what I am. Not that it matters, but…
I think doubt is normal. I don’t think your first attempt was strange. I think as humans, we’re wired to survive. It doesn’t make you weak or any less serious. I think up to the moment (if you decide to pursue it) you hold the trigger, a voice of doubt will hoover over you.
I’m glad you have some good memories. The psych ward experience sounds like it was a good one. Now, that is a story we don’t hear often!
If you ever want to talk ill give you my cell and we can text. I tried to kill myself when I was 14 and failed. So I’ve been there too
@coitus: Wow, that’s freaky. I would have fallen deeply in love with a chick so twisted, lol. I can see how something like that would really stick in your memory. It is a bizare place to find yourself in the world, is it not?