An Aside to My Suicide Story
As I read all the responses to My Suicide Story, and many of them I have read over and over, I was and still am overwhelmed by the love around this community. If not love, then the listening ears, concern, empathy, sympathy, a love for writing…I felt them all. And to know that I am not alone, that there are some who have been through far worse situations for which I, if I were the doctor, would only prescribe eternal rest in peace, for man is not supposed to suffer like some some of you have, I am encouraged and pillared.
That story, which was the first of such an attempt at my own life happened when I was just twelve years old. I shall tell how the story ends in the next post. I did want to die. I did want to leave this world. The things that brought me to that point scarred me for life. And even though those things happened many moons ago, and those wounds have healed, on dark nights, when I am in the deepest of troughs in this wave of life, even the faintest glow of the new moon, which is no moon at all, is enough to bruise the healing wound, and kindle sad, damp memories, which if unencumbered, yield suicide ideation.
A medium is one who communicates between the dead and the living, and this community on Medium, through comments, prayers, encouragements, thoughts et cetra, has mediated/is mediating between, the living, among which my body is, and the dead, where some part or whole of my spirit is. Gratitude to Tremaine L. Loadholt, H. Nemesis Nyx, Ezinne Ukoha, smokey Thin Man, Heather Nann, Sherry Mike Sturm, Jewel, the amazing Moyomoluwa Sowande, Sherry Caris, Michael Milverton, Mak'Omondi Davie, emmybee, Ronald Flores-Gunkle., Judy Ann Giorchino, Sandi Danilowitz and to everyone else who is part of this story in one way or the other.