Didn’t die today

I put a loaded gun against my head today.  Looked down the barrel first, out of morbid curiosity, I guess.  “Staring down the barrel of a .45” immediately popped into my head.  I was very careful with my trigger finger.  I didn’t want it to go off on its own, but part of me hoped it did.  I thought about how it would look, my bedroom with a white down comfortor, white sheets, a white frame on the wall splattered with brain matter…. I thought about my mother, driving to visit my sister and her kids this weekend for a party. I thought about my stepmom who lost her only son to suicide by belt, about how she would take it, and admittedly about how much more peaceful, or… at least how much more clean that method would be for whoever found me.  I thought about my oldest brother and how I would feel if the situation were reversed and I had to find out about him.  Thought about the military, my friends, battles, 1SG and CDR, the chaplain, the students.  Thought about my ex, how I’d promised him I wouldn’t and how that had stopped it for awhile. Thought about my boyfriend. How would he react? Could he take it? Could he understand if I told him about this? Could we be best friends again, or still? What about that pact we made once? Where was that list we made of things we would do before dying if one of us went first… I said I would, but I don’t think I would be able to care about the list anymore.  Thought about all the times I asked my battles, my ex-husband, for help.  All the times I’d asked them to help me get help, asked them to “make me see someone after this”.  Mom called, I ignored the call although I had absolutely nothing else going on at the time (shhh, dont tell on me…). Stepmom texted. Just like the first time I was really going to do it, going to go through with it. Both of them tried to contact me out of nowhere for seemingly no reason. Fate, I guess. Maybe God.  Thought about who I could talk to without ruining relationships or expectations. Called the dog in and pet her for a while.  She ran away when I pulled out the gun, though. Some best friend :p This is probably the…. I don’t know… 7th time I seriously contemplated, planned, almost followed through since deployment.  No man should be expected to deal with this kind of baggage in a woman… 

 I thought about that one guy, maybe talking to him. Would he be able to just talk?  Or would he report me? I guess it would only be fair and just. I cost him a ride in an ambulance and months of shame over the same issue.  Even though – or especially since – he was supposedly grateful in the end.  

I dont want to cause anyone grief.  I dont want to lose relationships or trust in seeking help to live.  Sometimes I just simply want to die.  I don’t want someone to have to find me, even a stranger, but especially not a friend, coworker, or a police officer.  They have enough to deal with….

“Do you love me?” – “Yes.” – “Bang.” 

I could still feel the chill of that barrel for a few minutes after I pressed it against my head.  It had been loaded.  Chambered.  I had still kept my finger away from the trigger though.  I guess you could say I was as careful as it comes when one contemplates pulling the trigger.  I kissed the round after I emptied it this time.  I don’t know why.  Last time, I emptied all of the guns in the house, separated the ammo from the weapons, burried the guns deep in clsets or whatever, and quit drinking for a while.  I guess I was pretty good for some time after that.  

I googled “suicide hotline”. Read a little about some others’ experiences with them and almost called one, but I couldn’t follow through.  It was pretty reassuring, reading how the calls went, that that they didn’t treat it like a call for attention.  I don’t want attention.  I don’t want to be a plea for help. I just want to be normal and to not want to die for seemingly no reason at all.  Years ago I spent significant time researching ways to make it look like an accident or to just… disappear.  I don’t want people to know, I don’t want people to worry, and I don’t want people to grieve.  It’s bad enough to wonder how you could prevented the death of a loved one, but the suicide….?  That’s hell.  Especially for a mother or significant-other.  I’m not trying to hurt anyone, I just don’t want to hurt.  

My life is pretty good.  I’m generally very optimistic and productive.  I have an excellent career that I do very well in, a loving family and boyfriend, and I’m generally healthy despite a few minor physical injuries.  Honestly, most of the time I think I could be perfectly happy living life with no purpose, living under a bridge, or whatever.  I recognize beauty in nature and in life.  I appreciate the small things. Sometimes though, out of nowhere, I just don’t want to do it anymore.  I just want to die.  What’s wrong with me?