Warning, I wouldn't want to read this if I were you, but I have to get it out.
I haven’t sat down and written out something for what feels like lifetimes ago. Honestly been afraid of what I would say, or what I wouldn’t be able to say. I do know that there is value in doing so though and I can’t stop thinking and reliving the last week. So here will be my recount of the events leading up to and post the most recent attempt at ending my own life. And why it already feels like it doesn’t matter.
Context behind the events is over 12 close friends (I don't actually know how many since it all happened so quickly) dying by their own hands since the beginning of 2021, lost a relationship I adored over a cocaine relapse encouraged by said relationship, an ex using me to cheat on a current 3 year relationship and had to move everything I own in a small window of time with help from a handful of people occasionally through the process. Struggling daily with a need to be connected and in relations with other humans, but terrified of repeating old cycles and causing more trauma.
This was where my mind was Saturday after moving by myself for 12 hours. After acquiring some Zanax I decided to mix half of them with my other medications and some alcohol with the intention of weakening my heart enough to allow it to stop in my sleep. I’m not sure how conscious I was in that moment of my true intentions, but seeing how much I took after the fact I knew that there would be a noticeable risk at the least. Soon after I blacked out.
I woke up at the jail off 33rd and 9th. Unconsciously I had left the house and drove 5 minutes up the street. Once I lost the cognitive functions to drive I pulled over and locked my car. Then I somehow wandered down the street, lost my keys and started knocking on someone's back door at 1am. They called the police and they brought me to jail.
When they booked me they asked if I was suicidal. I said I was because I have struggled with suicidal ideations and attempts since 14. They brought me upstairs to the mental watch area and left me on a metal cot with no mattress, naked other than 2 blankets, and said that I would be able to talk to a doctor on Tuesday when he came in after the holiday weekend. This happened around noon Sunday.
Some might know the story of the only other time I’ve been to jail other than this. It was 11 years ago and I was breaking into cars to afford my cocaine addiction at the time. When I was finally booked my bail was $35,000 for 7 felonies. I remember the first day smelling the clothes, the food, the air, it all smelled and tasted the same. I got used to it fairly quickly since I figured I would be in for a while.
This time my bail was only $690. I knew that once I had a chance to talk to the doctor I could get out pretty quickly, but for 40 hours I didn’t eat, sleep, or speak other than to a few guards that would respond. The others locked up around me…..there was screaming, singing, talking, and other noises almost constantly outside of a 3 to 6 hour period after 9am when everyone was forced to take their medications for the day.
When I first woke up in this situation I was convinced that I had died and that this was purgatory. I would be stuck here, waiting for a doctor that would evasively avoid me eternally. These new sounds, this new discomfort, this new pain was now eternal. It wasn’t until Monday afternoon that I started realizing what was going on.
The doctor finally arrived, I was brought down to a block, and was released a few hours later. The cops had also lost my glasses and found them right before they let me go. So on top of everything else I could only see 8 inches in front of me during the whole 43 approximate hours of this experience. Which, looking back, debilitated my mental capacities more than coming off the overdose.
The night after I was released I showered for about an hour. Then shaved my beard in a manic frenzy because the smell was permeating from it. Still didn’t work, so I took a bath that burned my skin initially and laid in it for 3 hours. Flashing back and forth from the bathroom to the cell. Wondering if any of it was real at all. I didn’t feel fully sober until the next night.
All of this to say that I know I did this to myself. I also know that now, after finishing the move since being released and finally having a day to reflect, the desire to do it again is as strong as Saturday night. I should be grateful. I should have a new drive to redeem all of the time I have free since I have experienced the inability to even clothe myself. I don’t though. I’m honestly more irritated and discontent that I’m still awake and that, once again, my attempt didn’t work.
The smell and taste still return and catch me by surprise. I can hear the voices, repetitions and screams from the other inmates when I don’t have background noise playing. I still think about the fact that some of them had been laying in those metal cots, naked and cold for weeks before my short visit in comparison. I still feel no comfort, but more pain physically and emotionally each moment I’m conscious.
I also have no words of comfort to try to flip this into an inspirational story. There is nothing inspirational about feeling cut off from the world because of an internal pain that you can’t alleviate. There is nothing inspirational about making it through traumas that become part of your daily experiences and the emotional weight that it burdens you with. Nothing good about how it cultivates a slow decline from everything you’ve ever found value in, including yourself.
And there is nothing that can or will be done unless it’s spoken, but even then I’ve been told not to talk like this more often than I’ve felt an ear of empathy. Nothing but shame and guilt when I’m told or desire to hold on for others than I rarely reach out to. After half of this year….I feel nothing. Nothing other than hate that I can’t do the one thing I want to do. Be free and live freely for my own sake and for that of others. There will be no award at the end of this. There will be no applause or acclamations once I’m done. There will only be the one thing I’ve always wished for and always dreaded. Me….alone…...feeling nothing. And….fuck it man. It can’t come soon enough.