Am I going to attempt again?
I don’t know. It all depends on how tough I make things in my life. It is same as asking a recovering alcoholic: Are you going to drink again? The honest and the only answer to the question is “I am not sure”.
What I can tell you about suicide is that it is a pretty damn tough job. No matter what people say or perceive, no matter what has been written about it… it is a fuckin’ difficult thing to do. Especially for people like me… who have young kids, and one of them is with special needs. You go through the motions of weighing it daily, thinking it over and over. You die everyday. You fight the moral dilemma and the stigma associated with it. You analyze yourself… am I being a coward? Can’t I just fight it off? Is it worth it?
You are a son, a brother, a husband and a father. Not to mention the in-laws relationships you have. I am as much accountable to my in-laws as I am to my parents and siblings. What about my friends? Or for that matter, what about my relationships at work? Sure, they will fill the void created by me (that is the only time one can use the word creation while talking about death), but is it not unfair to them that I just decide one day to not to show up?
Despite all of these thoughts, with nobody around you, with whom you can confide or anyone who can understand where you are coming from… the decision becomes a simple one. You take care of notes and letters for the police and the insurance companies. You write a letter to the woman of your life… and a letter to the kids (which they can read when they turn 16 or 18).
I debated this whole thing for over 3 months. To do or not to do. How should I go about it? I was not able to get a gun. Yeah, I know, I am in US of A. I tried the shady areas and tried meeting their inhabitants… no good. Anyhow, alone at home, I put some blankets and pillows in the bathtub and got a pair of knives from the kitchen. I took some serious gulps of alcohol to make me numb. I needed alcohol because I needed the courage. You see, with a gun in hand, things are straight forward, but with a knife, it is a whole different ball game. I had time on my hands. Wife had already moved out of the house with kids and all the belongings. So, with alcohol now roaming inside my veins I put on some songs, reminding me of my wife, on my phone. Then I settle down in the bath tub. I wait and wait, still listening to the songs. I take more alcohol. Then I pick up the knife. I have no courage in me to look at it… so with looking nothing at particular but reliving the past, I make the first cut on the wrists. Man it hurt. It burned. Even without looking, I knew that it was not deep… my body jerked and the knife slipped. Still, I could see the blood coming out. I close my eyes and gave a second shot at it. Good… I could feel that I am going somewhere with it. I kept my eyes closed… and slowly drifted into sleep, the music still playing next to me.
Not sure how long I slept, but slowly I regained awareness to my whereabouts. Took a look at my left hand wrist… blood was still coming out, but very slowly. I then picked up the knife… no good man. It is kind of blunt. This is not going to work out. So I took some more gulps of alcohol, wrap up my wrist with a handkerchief, and get out of bath tub. Need to drive and buy a brand new knife.
So, I do that. Come back at home. How I did it, I don’t know… I was drunk, I was bleeding and yet I made it back. This time, I was quick. I had learned from my recent past. I just needed two quick, deep and sustained cuts. The warmness of my blood engulfed me. I closed my eyes… I could not keep them open… and soon, despite me drunk, I could feel the moistness of the blanket around me. I knew the last two cuts were fatal… now it is just a matter of time.
Woke up again… this time to some yelling and pounding. Opened my eyes, tried to comprehend what is going on and who are these two people in my toilet. I realized that they are from ambulance. They lifted me up, carried me over to the stretcher, and then to the ambulance. On my way out to the ambulance, I see my wife surrounded by cops. I knew instantly what had happened… and I knew that I might not survive, but I am not going to die.
You see, what happened was, that God knows for what reason, my wife stopped by the house to see me. She came inside, but could not find me, so she left. I was in the toilet unconscious. Then, after about 2 hours, sensing something wrong, she came back again and started looking for me room by room. And then she found me. And then she called the police.
Am I ashamed of my doing? No, I am not. I had opted for this after some serious considerations. You see, I was anyway not with my kids and wife for the past one year. They, my wife and the kids, had learned to be without me. If I came back again in their lives, I was not doing them any good. In fact, with me dead, the insurance money and the social security benefits would have done them far more good than I could have. I have been fighting my addiction for so long and I was getting nowhere.
What I did learn from this was that I can be sober and can attempt to regain my life back. I can see my kids and my wife. I can help other addicts. I did not see any bolts of lightning or a man with white beard, but I did realize that life can be fun even if you are living in pain. What matters, at the end of it, is what you give back to your kids and to the society. You don’t have to be successful, even a failure can give something back to the human race.
Getting back is not easy. You cannot resume from where you left. You have to start all over again. There are roadblocks everywhere. Trick is not to give in, but to avoid them. Take it easy. Think, Think and Think. Life is tough only if you make it to be. Keep your desires realistic and choices simple. Life is just like at a cards table, you play with what you been dealt. Sure, things are tougher on you than others… and I am putting it mildly here, but that doesn’t means that you can make the most out of it. Instead of comparing what you have and what you could have achieved, measure yourself with how many a lives you have touched upon. You don’t have to be a social worker, you still can touch lives. The power of the technology allows you to help others, and in helping others you are helping yourself. They say that you cannot love others if you don’t love yourself first. I don’t totally agree with it. I think that you don’t have to love yourself, that is not a prerequisite in loving others, but you have to respect yourself first. As long as you can look yourself in the mirror and not feel guilty or ashamed about your actions… you’ll do fine.
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