What attempting suicide did to me, and what surviving suicide has done for me.
Because Sharing Stories Saves Lives!
“I just can’t take ‘it’ anymore!”
No matter how cliché that may seem I can still hear the echo in my mind from the countless times I spoke those words leading up to my attempted suicide. I didn’t even know what ‘it’ truly was at that time because I was too busy being consumed by… everything. It just became too much, and…
… I wanted it all to end.
So, I purchased as much Oxycodone as I could afford (which I’m allergic to), a fifth of Whisky, enough gas to get me to the mountain bluffs, and I told no one. I totally gave this zero forethought, but it was the best plan I could think up at the time so I ran with it.
It should go without saying that I never made it to where I was headed. I did; however, wake up on the side of some dirt road, with my vehicle door open, and covered in vomit & bad decisions.
No matter how bad you think things are in life, NOTHING prepares you for the reality that comes with realizing you can’t even kill yourself correctly.
And I couldn’t deal with it, so my mind turned it all off. I went from being affected by everything to feeling nothing. No Good. No Bad. Absolutely Nothing. There’s no way to explain it any better because you can’t use feeling words to express the very thing you didn’t feel.
I went on ‘living’ in my robotic existence totally oblivious to what was going on in the world around me. So oblivious that I didn’t even realize that subconsciously my mind created a plan to finish what it was I had set out to do.
That may sound crazy, but in the year-and-a-half that followed, without thinking, collected 26 Percocet, 17 Neurontin, 14 Flexeril, 11 Tramadol, 6 Ambien, and 4 Zofran… almost all from different people, at different times, for different reasons.
Then, out of the blue, I was all like “This should do the trick”, but this time I was going to be ‘smart’ about it. So with yet another fifth of Whisky in hand, I decided to figure out how many shots are in the bottle, and divide how many pills I had by that number to take them with each shot. Then I factored in drive time and the time it should take the pills to take effect.
All in all, it was 16 1.5oz shots, 4 to 5 pills per shot, every 2 minutes, leaving my house after 18 minutes, so that I can get to my destination 33 miles away. Also, on the slim chance that fell through I was just going to drive off that cliff for good measure. — 16 shots, 78 pills, ~45 min., and 33 miles later I had reached my destination. Now just to drive off that cliff.
The last thing I remember was telling myself to take a picture to post on Facebook so that they knew where the car would be. Yeah, not me. Just the car. So I took the picture, and then…
… I simply woke up.
don’t know how many hours had passed. The sun was shining at that point, but my phone was still in hands, and the truck’s engine was still running. I simply looked around, shut the engine off, and fell back asleep.
It wasn’t until that evening when I next awoke. In my daze of confusion, I drove home to again fall asleep.
I should be dead. Why am I not dead? Why didn’t I drive off that cliff? Why didn’t that pill & alcohol buffet kill me? Or, at very least, why aren’t I covered in puke like the last time? Why can’t I remember anything after taking that picture?
All of these questions came flooding into my head as soon as it started doing the conscious thought thing again the next day. Why, why, why, why, why? This next part is going to sound crazy, but I’ve already gone this far down the rabbit hole of shame. What would be a few more feet? Anyway, clear as day I thought to myself:
“Not all questions have answers, and not all lessons are taught through questions. ”
I was totally taken aback, and shaken at my core. It was surreal intense, as it was magnified by the fact I’d gone so long not feeling anything at all.
This was so different than before. I had no answers but felt like I had meaning. Literally, nothing in my life had changed by the smallest measure, but this feeling of positivity is unshakeable. Is not was.
That was a little over 5 years ago as of today, and ever since that day I have become the most disgusting people/person cheerleader imaginable; hahaha. It sounds totally cheesy, but it’s true. My current favorite saying, which I tell someone daily, is:
“I don’t care if I know you or not. You’re important to me, and I have faith in you.”
So, yeah… that’s the story of how attempting suicide killed me, but surviving suicide gave me life.