The only thing more pathetic than a person committing suicide is a person that fails epically at it…
Eventually I will get into the back story on why I tried to kill myself, but not today, not up to going through the last 5 years (well really, 45 years) in detail just yet. However, I would like to share my opinion on suicide, at least my own folly…and maybe that opinion will change over time as I send these blogs into the aether.
First off, I can see where people would see suicide as the epitome of selfishness, I get that the person who does succeed in shaking off this mortal coil of their own volition and leaves a wake of confusion, grief and guilt on the people that loved them can seem like it’s selfish. Let me assure you, at the time, at the rock bottom, it is anything but selfish.
By then you just KNOW that it is the right thing for everyone. You are an anchor weighing down everyone who cares about you. You feel like you have made a rational decision, probably the first in quite awhile. That decision brings a feeling of peace and calm. You know you are giving up on the cliche’s…we have all heard them, a permanent solution to a temporary problem, cowards way out, things will get better, get help, call the suicide line…at that moment, that is all bullshit and for the last moments you just want the truth, as you see it. Lets just look at the cold hard facts:
- YOU are to blame for everything that is wrong. This is after some real serious, honest self examination
- YOUR issues have wreaked havoc on everyone close to you
- YOU are too tired, lazy or incapable of making a real change.
- YOU are an incompetent fraud ( the story of that day will be a prime example)
- and finally the longer you wait, the more damage you are going to do to the people you care about.
Like I said, I am not going to discuss what led to this misadventure.
First, how does one kill oneself, easily and painlessly? I wanted to end, but I am not crazy, self inflicted physical pain…well that’s just nuts. I am Canadian, I don’t hunt, hate guns, although I love first person shooters like Call of Duty, so a bullet to the brain pan just wasn’t going to be an option.
First Last Night: Internet searches and LOTS of pills.
What is more peaceful than passing away in your sleep, I mean other than jumping on a grenade to save your buddies, drown while trying to save someone or going back into a burning house to save the family dog, what better way is there, that is what all of us really want. To not be conscious when it happens. Like I said, I am not crazy.
As you can probably tell, I am not a doctor. If you are going to do something, you may as well do it right, an old pearl of wisdom I didn’t exercise much in life but for this, I am doing it right…or so I thought.
I collected every drug, over and under counter, legal and illicit I could find in the house. I do not remember what their names exactly, I am sure if I looked in my browser cache I could find the searches but it’s not important, suffice it to say that all were all up for the task at hand in massive quantities. Various types and quantities of anti-anxiety, anti-depressants, sleeping pills, antibiotics (what the hell why not), pretty sure even some pills for cold sores but the piece de resistance were the 11 oxycontin and 19 percosets. I didn’t bother with the Tylenol or aspirin, that to me screamed a teenager’s “plea for help” which, at the time just felt wrong. Coupled with my age, the fact I have been smoking nearly a pack a day for 6 months and have high cholesterol, I figured I was well supplied for the journey.
I stared down at the pile of pills, about the size of an apple on the coffee table. Then, I went back to playing Diablo 3 on the xbox 360. I was just about to finish it on the nightmare setting. Figured may as well get that out of the way first…or last which ever way you want to think about it.
Finishing Diablo 3 was anti-climatic.
So, what to do about this pile of pills….it looked daunting. I hadn’t eaten, so was pretty sure that if I started swallowing them now I would just throw them up, maybe I would choke on my vomit later that evening and that seemed like the purview of rock stars and unless you are a rock star that would be unseemly.
So, the last supper. Chef Boy R Dee Mini Ravioli…it’s been a favourite since childhood…covered and i mean covered in kraft parmasan cheese and some lemonade. I was happy with my choice, don’t judge me.
I don’t drink, not because of any addiction or belief, just never liked being drunk…or developed a taste for it. But my partner at the time did so I did have 2 bottles of white wine (pinot grigio I think) and some black rum. These were to be the lubrication for my trip to oblivion (dramatic wording eh?).
I crushed the pills into a powder, filled a good sized cereal bowl. First spoonful tasted awful, mixed into the wine it wasn’t too bad. I didn’t waste anytime, it took awhile but was able to get it all down fairly quickly, say about 1/2 hour. I didn’t bother with a note, I kinda figured if you had to ask, then well, you just weren’t paying attention.
Then I looked at my love sponge of a dog. What was going to happen to you?
At this point, all I wanted was to maintain some dignity but I couldn’t just leave her alone. I got her a few years ago, before my divorce, I knew my ex loved that dog, my kids did as well. Had to call her quick before I got too drunk and stoned, nothing worse than talking to an ex while under the influence, smacks of desperation.
I don’t remember the conversation that much, what I do remember is that it started ok then the concoction hit me hard…I had to get off the phone. Her new partner wouldn’t want the dog. I rationalized that my father would take her, she would be ok.
So what to do, what to do until I passed out….
I am sure that most people would look at pictures of loved ones, cry, scream….me, I turned Netflix on and started watching the first episode of Breaking Bad. Felt like the thing to do…this wasn’t a big deal.