*Note – This was originally posted Dec. 9th, 2008. However, I have moved it up so it’s visible again because I have been asked to.*
When your average person commits suicide, they do it because they feel dying is the only option left to them. They are at such a point of despair they can think of nothing else to take away the pain. I know because I’ve been there. A couple of times.
The first time I tried to commit suicide I was probably about ten and took an entire bottle of aspirin because that was all that was around. I was ten; my planning skills thankfully weren’t great.
The next time I seriously considered suicide, I was around 17. My planning skills had improved and I had plenty of time to pick a surefire way to kill myself. Since I had some friends who were on the seedier side of life, I knew I would be able to get my hands on a fairly large quantity of just about any type of pill I wanted. Since I was a popular sort of girl, [and by popular I don't mean slutty] I probably wouldn’t have had to pay for the pills.
Obviously, I didn’t kill myself.
In the end, I knew my mom wouldn’t have survived me killing myself. Her Christmas present that year was a letter from me letting her know she was the reason I was still alive. Luckily, I wasn’t to the point of total despair since I was still able to think about pain other than my own.
During both of those very low periods, no one had a clue. Not one fucking clue. It’s not anyone’s fault for not knowing what I had planned; I acted “normal”. I went to school. I did my homework. My grades were very good. I put on a very good act – I’m the queen of “the act”. But, I was right there when it comes to the big red flag of impending suicide. I had a well formed plan. I had written out my note. I had put all of my affairs in order [well, as many affairs as a 17 year old can have].
Everyone points to the “warning signs” of suicide and those are a great place to start. If you know someone who is depressed then they need to know how much you care for them and how much they mean to you. They need to know how awful your life would be without them. They need to know they are an integral part of your life.
My mom called me last night from the hospital. The only thing she could say to me through her tears was my “[cousin] shot himself”. She hung up right after. I called her back to find out my cousin had shot himself and was on life support. They were waiting to turn off the vent until my cousin’s little sister could drive across the state to say good bye. She had to drive across the entire fucking state knowing her brother had shot himself. Can you imagine what she was going through?
I was sad about my cousin for a few minutes. Now I’m just mad. Really, really mad. When I was considering suicide, I never understood suicide is one of the most selfish things a person can do. When you’re in the pit of it you feel like no one can understand just how bad it is for you. But, on this side of it, I get the selfish thing.
My cousin was hurting.
Just a couple of months ago he was text messaging while driving and had a wreck. The guy in the other car was killed. The local paper wouldn’t leave it alone.
I feel my cousin didn’t see a way out other than shooting himself.
I can empathize with what he was feeling, but I still think it was a douche bag thing to do. By killing himself, he has left a sister who looked up to him like he was a king. He has left a mother whose whole world was my cousin. He’s left a father who was more proud of his son than his son every knew. He left a grandpa who has buried a son, a wife and shouldn’t be burying a fucking grandson. My cousin left so many people who loved him. So many people who he has hurt so deeply.
As kind and gentle as my cousin was, I wish he could see the pain he has caused because I know he wouldn’t have wanted to cause all of this pain. He wouldn’t want to be this big of a dick.
I’m going to miss him. I wish he wasn’t dead. Hopefully I’ll get over the anger soon. I don’t like being this mad.