I have been suicidal basically my whole life. The last post might have been some clarity as to why. I just have been through too much and when it breaks me, I want out. sometimes it’s just an attempt not to wake up in the morning. Sometimes it’s just an is a matter of I just can’t anymore and it needs to be over immediately. I’m bad at it. I don’t know why I have done plenty of things that would kill a weaker person.
When you combine someone as suicidal as I am with someone sake who is suicidal you come up with a dangerous mix. {D} used to threaten me with murder suicide. And I will admit, I wanted him to. We would both be free and I wouldn’t die alone. That’s always my fear that they won’t find my body. That happened to someone I know and the smell in the house and the blood everywhere was too much. Bodies explode in the heat. It took two weeks to find him. I was also concerned about my dogs eating me. At this point I’ve given them up to a rescue where they found a great home and shouldn’t be eating anyone’s body any time soon.
I wanted {D} to kill me. It was romanticized in my mind that he loved me enough to take me with him. But would say he was going to do it and I wouldn’t die alone. Every time I would talk him down and tell him how loved he was and how good his life was and how he had everything. He would finally fall asleep and not remember it in the morning.
My last suicide attempt before the one in December was October of 2017. I was married to Brian 2 and living a nightmare. Then something happened. I watched as an 11 year old boy was hit by a car. I was on my way home from work at a light. He was struck after running into traffic less than 50 feet from a crosswalk. His shoe bounced off my windshield. I got out and immediately started first aid. After a few minutes he woke up and made this sound, a cry like a baby would. I still hear that cry in my head sometimes. He was wearing this stripped shirt from target that my son also had. He was about my son’s age. I kept it together. Held his c spin and waited for what felt like an eternity for an ambulance to finally arrive.
The ambulance came and they took him away. I asked the police if they needed anything from me, they said no. I went over to woman who hit him and told here it was okay and squeezed her hand. The principal of his school was there by this point and hugged me and thanked me for taking care of his kid. I was a teacher at the school across the street.
I got in my car and I left. As I drove I noticed my white R2-D2 outfit I had been wearing for spirit day was covered in blood and I suddenly became hysterical when I had been completely calm up until that point. I pulled over the car and just sobbed and I was howling crying. I just couldn’t handle it.
I got home and I went silent. I’m always talking but I was just dead silent. I sat in the bath smoking copious amounts of weed hoping to get high enough for it to just go away.
I floated through the next 3 days. It was a haze work and family and Brian 2. Brian was not getting his sex, which he would tell me was the only way he could stay sane. I had to have sex with him so the dopamine would keep him balanced. He couldn’t live without the sex and I was doing it to myself if I wouldn’t let him. I just still couldn’t even speak though.
Day three, as I was leaving for work he handed me divorce papers and told me I had to sign them. They had to be notarized. I went to work and asked another teacher to cover my 2 period so I could go get the paperwork notarized. My principal took me aside and told me to take a few days off. I didn’t want to. My students were the only thing pulling me through. She walked me out to the car and Brian was waiting there for me. I handed him the paperwork. I got in the car and went to the house.
Brian, former military, had a pump action shot gun in the closest. I grabbed it and some Buck shot and headed to one of my favorite places, Mt. Potosi.
I took off all jewelry and left it in the car. Wrote notes to my family and pinned them to my shirt and put my ID in my lanyard around my neck. Then I started praying. I argued with God. I called him a motherfucker more than once. I wrote Hail Marys up and down my arms and my legs. I told God if he didn’t want me dead, to do something about it.
I jammed myself between two rocks with the butt of the gun jammed into the rock in front of me. I put the barrel in my mouth and pulled the trigger. It didn’t go off.
I figured I fucked it up. Went through the whole process again took the shot out put it back in pumped it again switched the safety to the other direction because I don’t know shit about guns and I didn’t know if orange or black was live. Pushed the trigger again. Nothing.
I still don’t know what the hell happened that day. I don’t know why that gun didn’t go off. It should have. The only thing I can think of is that I didn’t have enough leverage on the trigger due to the angle I had the gun at. The few people who have heard this story tell me it was God. Jesus or physics, your choice. I’m not sure.
I stopped trying to kill myself after that. I went back to Brian who would not leave me alone and kept showing up and begging me to come back. We weren’t married the last year we were together, he got his divorce.
When {D} said he would kill us both it was such a relief because I knew I couldn’t do it myself, God wouldn’t let me. But if someone else did it, I wouldn’t go to hell. I’ve had this weird fear, that I know isn’t real, but every once in a while I think I died that day and what I’ve been going through since is purgatory. I know how crazy that sounds but I’m only like 95% sure I am actually alive.
After the apocalypse I begged {D} to kill me. Begged. I would text him every night that I left the door unlocked for him and to just come and kill me. It was the most humane thing he could do for me. Just love me enough to kill me.
There has been a big story about a murder suicide here in vegas and talks about how domestic violence is becoming more violent. I’ve never been a threat to anyone but myself. I never thought I should take someone out with me. But I wanted him to take me with him. I wanted it. And that is why Katie went to intensive therapy.
I was deeply depressed the entire time I was with {D} and his guns were there in the closet. I thought a few times about grabbing one as I went into the bathroom and killing myself because I could have easily. I was always afraid I would fuck it up. December when I tried to overdose I just wanted it over. I still do. I still leave the door unlocked for {D} sometimes. Just in case he wants to. Just in case.
The door is unlocked tonight.
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