April, 26th 2017 — The Force

This article is part of the series “What is like to attempt suicide and fail”. Start there, if you have not read it yet.

Wednesday, D Day + 19

I missed breakfast. I’ll stop talking about this. I miss breakfast every day and it’s not fun anymore. I can not wake up, and if you want to know, I decided that breakfast at a psychiatric clinic is bad for the human spirit of survival. Why? Because. Yes, just because I said it. And because I can not wake up.

Today is the day of the Sanitary Department visit (somehow the clinic knows about this). Some patients’ belongings (things like chocolates, cigarettes, soft drinks) are taken to some dungeon so that the operation does collect them.

And the clinic, you see, gets a certain facelift. You know the wall that was dirty? Painted. Do you know the paper dispenser that had been empty since the arrival of the Portuguese in Brazil? It’s completely full. A Miracle

It rains a lot. It had rained before. But today the rain is strong. It’s one of those to stop and watch. To contemplate.

I did not have time to contemplate anything, though. I got called to Dr. Juan’s office, the Argentine who owns the clinic. In his office were the clinic coordinator, the three psychologists, and another guy I’d never seen before, holding a clipboard.

I realized at the time that this would not be a happy meeting, no balloon droppings, no chocolate cake to eat, and no piñata full of sweets to break at the end. The mood was tense and the topic was was me. I must confess, that on the inside, it gave me a slight happiness. There were The Emperor , Darth Vader , three Storm Troopers and a clipboard holding guy. Because of me.

Dr. Juan began to speak, saying that the staff was worried about my participation in the activities of the clinic. And went right away for an analogy. A soccer one, to make it even better. “It’s like you’re an excellent player who is not doing his best for our team. Imagine Messi playing anyway he wanted, he would be kicked out of the team. “ There was more, but the summary is this.

I, who had been gifted one of the worst analogies in history on a plate. And so I started my speech. “Dr. Juan, first of all, it’s important to remember that I’m not Messi. I am the broken leg player that should not even play on this team for starters. But the thing is a bit worse than that, Dr. Juan. I’m that player who does not give a shit about this team, thinks the team is crap and does not want to play on the team”.

At this moment, a cool breeze from the north entered the room, shivering even the hairs of the the last moth of the entire property-lots of moths here.

This is a case, Dr. Juan, that the corporate world would call bad, crappy customer service. I am dissatisfied, I do not like this clinic and would like to leave. And that’s it.

It was when the coordinator (Darth Vader in our story), the same that in the previous day did not want to meet me, took the floor, apologized on behalf of the clinic and asked me for a second chance. Before I could answer, Dr. Juan (Emperor in our story) asked the room just for him and me. Everyone disappeared at the speed of a Formula 1 car tire change.

And that’s when he, Dr. Juan, used his porteño accent to talk about things that, I confess, I can not remember. This moment alone with Dr. Juan does not exist in my mind. The Force is strong with him, I thought. And I left the room willing to call my family and talk about this second chance.


I will post more tomorrow. I’ve created a list of songs I’m listening to while inside the psychiatric clinic. To listen, subscribe to the “After Death” playlist on Spotify.

If you want to talk to me, write to rodrigo@bressane.com.

Be kind,
Rodrigo Bressane