You Keep On Knocking
Warning, suicide.
“You keep on knocking, but you can’t come in.” A friend of mine said this to me after my hundredth attempt to kill myself. Not literally, but it felt like I was fighting a battle I couldn’t win. I cut my wrists to the bone, then drove off a bridge in two attempts. I once took so many tranquilizers and anti-depressants, the doctor said it would have killed a horse. I only slept for three days and woke up as if nothing life-threatening had occurred.
I have suffered from acute depression most of my life, and death always seemed to be the only answer. After every unsuccessful attempt, I was filled with rage. What would it take to die? How many times will I fail before my wish is granted? How can the Universe hold me hostage in this life? It made me more depressed to think that I can’t get out of this.
Then, one day, after my son, Emile, and my husband died, I decided that I would have to shoot myself if I wanted to die. Surely, this can’t fail. I sat on my bed with the gun in my hand and lifted it to my head. I made peace with the idea, and I was ready to go. Then my son, Marco, walked into the room. The look on his face shocked me back to reality. He screamed at me, You fucking bitch! How can you do this to me? I only have you! You want to leave me here all alone?! He grabbed the gun out of my hand, and I started sobbing. My heart was breaking for him, because the naked pain I saw in his eyes that moment, I’ve never seen before, not even when his father died.
What the fuck was wrong with me? I looked at my son and I realized then that he needed me, and to want to die was taking the coward’s way out. He needed a mother, for once in his life, not someone who was always on a quest to die. He lost his brother and his father, and I needed to get control over my insanity and be alive to stand by him. If it were the last thing I did, I would live for him.
I thank God for what happened that day. If not, I would not be here today. That event opened my eyes to what I was doing to myself and my child. It took a few years before he could forgive me. I understood and gave him time to trust me again. Our relationship is better now than it has ever been. I almost gave it all up.
Namaste
It’s hard to know what to write that gives those words justice. Beautiful, brave, authentic, inspiring don’t quite hit the mark, although all true.
You will be helping many people, sharing this. Importantly though, I hope writing this down helps you.
I'm so sorry for the immeasurable pain you have been through. What courage you have.