What is like to attempt suicide and fail

On April, 7th, 2017 I tried to kill myself. Obviously, I have failed. I am writing this introduction as well as the following pieces from the psychiatric clinic to where I was sent by my family, following doctor’s advice, right after the incident.

So, why am I writing about my failed suicide attempt and the days that followed?

1. It helps me to understand what happend. Believe it or not, suicide is a misterious monster even for those who face it. I know it because I did and at this very moment I am surrounded by some people who did it too. Recollecting facts and following-up with the story helps me to make sense of it. Hopefully, it will serve myself and others in difficult times.
2. It helps me to deal with the pain. Yes, the same pain that eventually made me take such drastic move. She is still here. Lingering around. Although I am far from learning how to domesticate this feeling, I’ve been told by experts that suppressing it (my default) is not the right move.
3. It keeps people who care about me informed. It keeps everyone informed, really. But those who care, I am sure, will read each and every word. It’s a way of staying close to them and, if they want, to keep them close to me.
4. Its a way of documenting a decisive moments of my life. I am terrible at keeping track of my own history. A second shot at life seems like a good reason to start changing that.
5. Sharing helps me to feel like I am not alone. Because, boy, do I feel alone? You bet. This is the most painful, lonely journey of my life. I feel like crying all they long. I am actually crying most of my day. This sucks. Don’t get me wrong, though. I’ve received support from a few corners of the world. True friends who shared a lot of love that I don’t deserve now or ever. To all of you, thank you so much. You have no idea what your words and generosity mean to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
6. At the clinic I am staying, it’s either writing or working on nonsensical activities, like painting a piece of cloth or dancing to the tune of silly songs. I will stick with writing, thank you very much. I am going mad at this place. Going mad is not my goal. I am sure places like this help a lot of people (and I am witnessing it first hand). To me, though, it’s equivalent to torture. I am not so sure why people though this would be a good idea. My emotional health is deteriorating by the second. Unless this is punishment. In that case, great pick! It’s working wonders.
7. Have I mentioned this clinic thing is killing me? Writing is my way of screaming it.

Tomorrow I will publish “April 7th 2017”.

I have two almost-dial-up-hours of Internet a day. Eventually the story will catch up with the diary I am publishing.

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

Be kind,

Rodrigo Bressane

The story continues here:

Life After Suicide