On September 2, 2014, I sought death. That story is shared in “On September 2, 2014, I “Chose” to Die“. Today, I share the second part of that fateful day, the part where I sent an email and survived. This is that story.
I Sent an Email
On the eventful day as I lay on my bed drifting into oblivion, something roused me from my stupor and propelled me to my computer. While there, I sent an email to my mum asking her to take care of my son. I then returned to my bed to continue to slip away.
I’ve no recollection of typing or sending this email.
Email I’d sent in the past languished for days before being read but this one was different, just as this day was different. My mum read my email and immediately knew something was terribly wrong. My parents dropped everything and rushed to my apartment.
They arrived, scared and panicked. I’d done that to them. They spoke to my building superintendent, gained access to my apartment, and shook me awake. After a great deal of persuasion and much shouting in desperation, I joined them in the living room. In their continued desperation, they shouted at me again, and again, and again. I grew tired of it, shouted back that I wanted to be left alone, and returned to my bed.
My mum didn’t give up. She went to the building super once again and asked her to call 911. That action saved my life.
The police and EMTs did their jobs with ruthless efficiency. The police officer who arrived wandered around my apartment gathering scissors and knives while the EMTs set up their equipment and took my vitals. They didn’t care why I’d tried to kill myself and they didn’t shout. All they did was follow their training to save me.
The hospital staff was as ruthlessly efficient. They forced tubes down my throat and filled my digestive system with charcoal. Again, no shouting, just a time-honoured routine designed to save a life.
The unexpected happened once again. During all of the mayhem and the chaos, I experienced the briefest moment of silence. For longer than I can remember my head was filled with noise, the noise of the never-ending battle within my mind. But now that noise quieted and in the quiet, I discovered a will to live.
I can’t express how shocking this was. After months of existing in The Black, after months of suicidal thoughts, after acting in desperation to kill myself and still my pain, I saw a small flicker of light in the once suffocating gloom. In opening myself to death, in welcoming it and asking it to bring an end to my suffering, I found life.
My recovery had begun.
If you believe that you’re in need of help regarding your mental health, or if you’re experiencing thoughts of suicide, I urge you to speak to your family doctor immediately or call your local Canadian Mental Health Association branch. They can direct you to resources in your community. Talk Suicide can be reached by visiting talksuicide.ca, by calling 1-833-456-4566, or by texting 45645. You can also get immediate help by dialling 911 or visiting your local emergency room.
Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay