Secrets I’ve always wanted to tell. (1st timer here…)

December 8th, 2016by Asystole

I had no idea a website like this existed, but I’m grateful to have found it.  I lurked and read many things here before deciding to sign up to post. I wonder if anyone out there can relate to my story?  I wonder if anyone out there is my age, or older?  I wonder if anyone shares my burdens? I wonder, I wonder…. I guess we all wonder those things… Anyway, here I am at 38 years old (I feel like the oldest on here) writing to no one or everyone about my desire to die via suicide.  It’s not something new.  There are moments I wish I’d done it after I lost my family when I was 21, and there are moments I’m glad I didn’t because I wouldn’t have had the chance to make a few amazing memories, and save a few lives.  Life was so awful when I was a child but I had hope that it would get better.  Life was awful as an adolescent, but I had hope it would get better.  Life was still so awful when I was a young adult, but somehow I still had hope it would get better.  And for awhile, it did – in a way.  I obtained 2 college degrees, landed the career of my dreams, had a lot of great sex, traveled a bit, bought my own house, got heavily involved in animal rescue… For several years I was living the American dream.  Or so I pretended.  On the inside I was haunted by past sexual abuse at the hands of my father.  I’ve been in counseling most of my life after telling my 6th grade basketball coach that my father was having sex with me, but there’s just NO possible way someone gets over that.  If there’s someone out there who isn’t completely screwed up from something like that, I’d sure like to meet her!!  Because of that, I watched my mother drug and drink herself into oblivion.  I lived with my grandparents, who were the greatest thing life has ever offered me other than my animals, until they died in 2000, just 90 days apart.  All I had left was a brother who moved 1200 miles away with his girlfriend when he was 18, and was later sentenced to life in prison.  So thus began my journey of life 100% ALONE. Again, I clung to HOPE.  Hope that I’d make my own family someday.  Hope that, in time, and with counseling and drugs (legal types for depression, etc) I would be able to cope with my past and overcome it.  But here I am… almost 40 years old and I have nothing.  Most EMTs or Paramedics suffer from PTSD, many die by suicide, and ALL can tell you horror stories… but please – I beg you, don’t ask them to relive those nightmares to satisfy your curiosity. Unless they offer.  I don’t mind questions as long as I know the person asking truly cares, and isn’t just looking for a sick thrill at my expense. I was coping rather well (I thought) with all the tragic, awful, unbelievable things I saw and endured until one day in May 2011… it was just after my shift began at 0700hrs my partner and I responded to a call that changed my life forever.  It was a very close friend of mine.  He was a part-time Fire Fighter and a full time Cop. I met him years before at the 1st fire house I worked at.  I walked into a small room and knew he was dying before he said a word…..and that day……in the back of my ambulance…..with me at his side……as he screamed and begged for ME to help him…..he slowly died in agony from an aortic aneurysm (the result from untreated high blood pressure).   I’ve never been able to get the way he looked at me, or his cries for help out of my head.  Did he think I wasn’t doing everything I possibly could to save him?  He bled to death before we reached the hospital, and though they tried to bring him back, it was an act of futility.  The following year I made my one and only attempt at suicide.  I won’t go in to detail because I believe that’s against the rules? But let me say that if it weren’t for my dogs, I would’ve succumb. Since then I decided I would dedicate my life to my dogs and make a CHOICE to live for them.  But it’s been a constant struggle… I don’t think a day has passed since, that I haven’t wanted to end it.  One of the most painful journeys in life is to survive your own suicide and wake up only to realize you’re still alive.  I spent 2 weeks in the psych hospital after being discharged from the ICU, and vowed not to do it again until my dogs were gone – they don’t deserve to be abandoned; they’re the ONLY beings on earth that have ever truly been there for me, or loved me… so I feel I owe it to them.  But it’s getting harder.  Two years ago I was injured in an accident, and left unable to work.  It left me blind in my left eye and with neuro deficits, but I have adjusted to most of it now.  I’ve been on disability since.  Not working…not being able to work has been the ultimate hell.  I went from making a great living and being completely self-sufficient, to being dependent on social security and living in poverty.  It’s awful trying to choose between your medication and groceries. I’ve also become addicted to narcotics… once used to relive my physical pain, if I don’t take them daily I become very sick… and even when I have stopped them, I cannot stand the way I feel.  I can’t stand being sober! It works out well since my doctor is also an addict (in a twist of fate we were at the same NA meeting once… about 4 months later the MD and I worked out a system to meet our mutual desires for drugs by helping one another… I’m only adding this in so you don’t think you’re alone if you are also addicted to opiates, and so people stop believing doctors are gods… they are just like you and me… the rate of opiate addiction among physicians is unbelievable). I cannot stand being inside my mind ALL the time. So I continue to use them so that I don’t spend all day crying, or thinking, or pitying myself.  If I could work again I would be able to carry on in life as I did for so many years, even through the pain of my past.  I would drop the pills in a second if I could have my old life back.  At least then I would still have my house and I could end my life on MY terms if that’s what I chose to do. But now I have difficulty even getting out of the house. I’m not the same person I was, and it’s not just from the accident. I no longer have that HOPE that I clung to for so many years. It’s not that I want to die necessarily… it’s just that this is NOT living.  THIS is not, in any way, how I want to experience life!!  I spend every day of my life reading, doing research (I love to learn) or working on the computer networking for animal rescue and posting on my rescue pages. I have no family to speak of (the ones alive aren’t present due to the above reasons) and I have extreme issues trusting anyone.  I lost my identity when I lost my ability to work.  I had to sell my house that I worked and saved so hard and long for… I lost everything.  I have battled terrible anxiety (depersonalization and OCD-Intrusive thoughts) and depression most of my life but was able to keep moving forward because I could work and like I said, I had HOPE.  Now my days are endless… I depend on drugs, and my dogs to get me through the day.  I cannot work and it just kills me inside.  I miss it so much I could cut my own heart out.  My career was the ONE thing I had left that kept me going…and my animals, of course.  I cannot have children.  I would never dream of trying to date – I think it’s so selfish to bring someone into your world when you suffer from devastating mental illnesses and are generally unhappy.  So having a family of my own is forever out of the question.  I will never be able to do much of anything again.  I have become nothing more than a burden to society and myself…even my dogs deserve a better life.  Before my accident I gave my oldest dog the most amazing life! We did so many things together.  I rescued 2 more just before my accident and they’re older now too, and haven’t had a great life…although it’s FAR from awful, I wanted to give them so much more!!  I would give nearly anything if I could go back to work tomorrow! I know I would still be wounded from the scars of my childhood/adolescence…I know I would still have PTSD and my other issues… but I could function, make a living, be independent, etc…
Anyway…….. that’s the short version (doesn’t seem short, but trust me… there’s a lot I left out), and the ultimate point is that about a 2-3 months ago I made the decision to end my life.  There are just a few problems I am trying to work out…. 1) I cannot leave my dogs behind.  They are older now and I wouldn’t leave them to die alone in a shelter.  No one adopts older dogs, much less the breeds I own. So the method I choose must be able to include them – BEFORE anyone judges me for that, keep in mind that  young, perfectly healthy dogs, even puppies, are euthanized every single day in shelters to make room, so that’s not an issue for me…. the main issue I have is 2) a location that wouldn’t cause anyone else harm.  I know I cannot mention my plan or method, but as an example… Let’s say you wanted to blow yourself up with a bomb, obviously you wouldn’t want to do it with innocent strangers surrounding you, right?  Now obviously I wouldn’t use a bomb, (I hope no one would, dang, that would be an awful way to go!!) but that’s the closest thing I could think of to use as a comparison.  I only want to end my life, and the lives of my elderly animals (when they get a bit older…) and not risk hurting anyone else, or being interrupted.  So those are the details I am working on.

I am saddened that I will have to die alone, without ever knowing what true love feels like, or having the family I so desperately wanted… but I also feel completely at peace with my decision.  I’ve been considering this in the back of my head for so long. I’ve fought SO hard to live, for SO long.  I feel as though I deserve this, and I’m a FIRM believer that this life is OURS and as long as we aren’t intentionally hurting other people, we should be allowed to do whatever we want with OUR lives!  I think it’s absurd that physician assisted suicide for terminally ill people is illegal!!!  We give more dignity to animals than we do humans.  Anyway, I have tried for decades……I’ve gone to counseling.  I still do, and I see a psychiatrist.  I take medication for depression, and have tried everything under the sun.  But it’s not so much depression as it is that I finally accept that my life will not improve beyond what it is now.  I will never have the parents I so desperately wanted and needed.  I will never see my brother again, unless he dies first I suppose.  I can never have a family.  I can never work again doing what I love more than anything else in the world.  And now, as if all that wasn’t enough, I’m a drug addict.  I offer nothing to society anymore.  I am sad that I will never fall in love, and never be able to be a mother, or wife.  I’ve accepted all of that, but it still saddens me. But most of all, I am devastated at the loss of my career.  And when my oldest dog dies… I know, without a doubt, that I will officially lose all desire to live.  My dogs are the ONLY reason I’m alive to write this now.

There is a huge difference between “wanting to die” and “having a solid plan in place.”  It will take longer than I want, but I am itemizing the plan for my exit from this life, and then I will begin putting it into action.  There are dreamers and doers.  I am a doer, and I will get this done… I would be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid.  Not of being dead, but of dying alone… no one around to tell me they love me, or hold my hand… But that is a sacrifice I will make.  I wish people knew how much COURAGE this takes.  People are so quick to call it cowardly.  That’s such an ignorant statement.  It will take every ounce of courage I have. But living like a prisoner isn’t “good enough” anymore.

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