This story is not mine, but it is so worth sharing. Not only because it is heartfelt and well written, but also because it is full of hope and could save someone’s life.
The author, Kat, is a high school friend of my husband. She and I met and became fast friends when she came home for their 1982 Class Reunion. Though our relationship is long distance (because she is a lawyer in San Francisco and was appointed by the mayor to the City’s Park Commission), we have become intimate and, like girls do, share everything.
This past week she flew to Little Rock to see her aging parents and we met up for a little storytelling and sharing. I like the fact that she calls me the big sister she never had, and I call her my little sister that I never had.
At breakfast, I asked how her marriage counseling was going. She said much better and shared with me an essay she wrote in 2022, when she felt hopeless. Hopeless? This smart, attractive, lawyer woman with a passion for service work? What?
With tears in her eyes, she read me the below essay. With her permission she has allowed me to share it in the hopes that it could possibly help others. As evident by my above story, you never know who is suffering.
Out of the Ordinary
Came home one day, closed the garage, unplugged the security camera, found a rope, tossed it over the garage door track and formed a noose. I put it around my neck and knelt into the “tug.” Tears squirted out of my eyes. I could feel everything at once: the prickly rope, the cool of the garage pavement, the solidity of the floor beneath my knees, the garage door track giving way to my weight a bit, the sway of my body, the breaking of my heart….
Images of my children began to race through my mind: their bewilderment and sadness, their tears. The horror of the discovery: me hanging there, lifeless. My husband having to cut me down, his grief, his anger at me for being so selfish. I thought of my many friends discussing in abject disbelief: “WHY???!!!”
I stood up.
I cried so hard. I wailed.
Looked around. Everything appeared so ordinary. I felt jealous of the tools just lying on the workbench in the corner. They were going to be there for years; nothing was going to change them. They would still be there as I aged, solid and silent, their potential infinite.
I decided to live.
As the days followed, I wondered how I could’ve let it get to that point. You absolutely go blank. You become a robot. You don’t fully understand what’s happening. You just do the thing that ends the pain. I was really lucky because the method I chose was absolutely the worst method anyone could ever come up with. It was ridiculous. The rope was so uncomfortable. Thankfully. And that garage door track was probably going to give way. Potentially thankfully.
I knew that I had to make sure that I would never reach that point again. I began to formulate a plan that involved strenuous exercise several times a week, improving the healthiness and wholesomeness of my diet, avoiding alcohol, getting more rest, getting more sleep. I also enrolled in a group therapy program and got a personal counselor. I went to see my doctor and got a bunch of blood tests to see if there was anything in there that needed to be tinkered with.
I come back to the memories of this day occasionally. I don’t dwell on it except to remind myself how fragile life is, and how amazing it is that we can actually end our own life. That risk factor, that direct confrontation of death, can be very motivating in positive ways. I do think every single time “thank God I felt and thought all those things; thank God I FELT.”
And I do thank God. And I’m so grateful for my kids. And I’m so thankful for the clarity that that day brought. I am still working to change things. I have not finished adjusting what needs to be adjusted in my life so I never feel that kind of isolation and sadness again. I am learning to let go of the people and the things that do not help me feel whole. I am learning to be comfortable by myself for long periods of time. I am learning to listen to and trust my thoughts and instincts. And I have learned to love myself with all my perfect imperfections.
There is still work to do. There should always still be work to do. I am gathering strength to make more tough decisions. I am taking my time. I am being OK with myself just the way I am every single day. My kids are enjoying their lives independent of my sphere. I’m glad about that. I am getting used to the freedom. I will be taking steps to gain more freedom. I look forward to finding my own place, decorating it to my own taste, deciding whom I will have over there. I am open to the possibility of living anywhere. I am open to the possibilities of living everywhere. I don’t know where my home is right now. I don’t think my home is a place. I think I’m finding my way to the home within my heart.
Nov 12, 2022
By Kat
AFSP.org suicide statistics:
Suicide is the 11th most common cause of death in the US with firearms being the most commonly chosen method. This may be because men die from suicide at 3.85 times the rate of women. In 2023 the US had over 50,000 successful suicides and an estimated 1.6 million attempts, with the highest demographic being persons 85 years of age or older and the next, middle age; 30 and 40 year-old’s.
National Mental Health Hotline: Call or text 988
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