2 cents.

A comment on *this post* by JLooney, after clicking the link on *this post* by TheMrRogers

As a survivor of a self inflicted, and very intentional, drug overdose:
I never really talked about this. I never really listened to peoples reactions to my choice either. I just wanted an end. I only remember a few things from that night. First, when I felt that I was beyond the point of no return, I could not stop crying… because I was sad. I would miss everybody, and imagined everybody not missing me. I knew I was wrong, but it was too late.
I remember my sister trying to talk to me because I could not stop crying. I wanted to tell her what was happening, but I couldn’t. I had made my choice, and I wasn’t about to fail at something else. I think that was part of it, was that I felt like a failure, like I could not get anything right. I was finished failing. I was going to succeed in spite of my hope that the failure fairy would come down and save me. I guess that’s why I wrote the note; it was my nature to create failure as an option.
I also remember my oldest brother yelling the question “How could I be so selfish?” After my sister found and showed him the note I scribbled. I can’t remember how I responded. By this time I was so out of it that all I remember is just laying in the back seat of the Wagoneer on the way to the hospital, and in spite of feeling guilty, being thankful that my choice was no longer my secret.
The events leading up to the night I tried to end my existence on earth… It has been a while. I was 12 years old. I remember not being clear about my belief system, and being done trying to figure out how to get along with the world. I hated school; I never really connected with my friends… I mean I had them sure, but I found out that when I shared some of the things on my mind or how I really felt, there was a disconnect. I felt alone.
I was in counseling. I would go on a walk with a doctor to make my mom happy, but I never really opened up to him. I am pretty sure both he and my mom knew as much.
I remember also, feeling like the teachers in school from kindergarten to grade seven had never really given me a chance. They all thought I was artistic and talented, but it seemed like was never allowed to share a table with the other kids. I was usually in a desk that faced the wall to inhibit my distractions or whatever. Whatever. It made me feel like a bad guy no matter how hard I tried… like I didn’t even get a chance to show anybody that I could be a good kid, and my teachers never did anything to show me that they thought other wise. Pretty much from day one I was a nuisance, ready or not.
*sidenote* Something I have found out since then is that many of the social and emotional problems I had as a kid were directly related to ADD. I guess these perceptions and feelings are what prompted the emotional response in *this idiotbook post.* It was like the speech had validated my perspective on the world in some way. *end note*
I guess I was a pretty negative kid in response to all this. I mean, not on the outside, I woke up everyday, went to school, and went home, whatever. I just didn’t ever see a point. I was mad that I wasn’t given a chance… in my opinion. I was too “crazy” for most of the kids in my social circles from church and school. My best friend was not allowed, by his parents, to come over to my house… ever. I never got a good explanation, but I could feel the reason. I have thought a few times in recent history about writing his parents a big “I think you were jerks, and you really messed me up, but I got over it” letter. I don’t think I ever will write it.
Let me get back to the point. I would like to say thanks to JLooney for sharing, and unintentionally prompting me to share… Like I said, I never really listened to the responses of those around me, or even really thought about what I did. I read his article and thought to myself “strange… I felt pretty much the same emotions he did, in spite of me sitting on the other side of the table.” I remember getting a lot of cards while I was in the psyche ward of the primary children’s hospital, from all my friends, and about how they missed me and all, but I also know that I don’t even really talk to any of them anymore, and haven’t for a large number of years. There are a few that I would like to reconnect with, I know I will have the opportunity to do so pretty soon, and plan to take full advantage of it. I guess the primary thing is that I had a problem. I suffered from chemical imbalances in my body that made it so I did not see the world the same way that others did… I am talking about depression as well as the previously mentioned ADD. I felt like there was no way I could cope with the weight of the world. I felt like I could not communicate, and even when I tried, it wasn’t getting through. There was, in my mind, nothing that anybody could do to change the choices I made that day, and it was never personal for anyone but myself.
I also read MrRoger’s comment. I think he has some pretty good insight. The one thing that he made me think about was that it all begins with being honest with yourself, or in my case, myself. I think that’s where it all starts. There have been times when I have never even wanted to acknowledge the things that I hate most about me, let alone share them with somebody else. That, in my opinion, is key.
I appreciate those who are around me, and who do support me. I know that at times I can be pretty hard to read or predict, and as a result I guess pretty hard to support. I guess I just appreciate the positive atmosphere I have managed to surround myself with. Pretty much my peeps have faith in the faith I have in myself and that is good enough for me. I know that I have chosen life. There has only been one time since the 7th grade that I have been close to changing my choice, I was however in an artificially induced state of mind at the time, and have never allowed myself to be so close to failure at life again.
I am writing this as much for me as for those who have been in situations like J, and for those who may feel like death is a better option. Let me tell you, it isn’t. I know.
-p