Monthly Archive for March, 2006

When Friends Want to Die
Monday, March 20, 2006
1:30:21 AMIt is such a scary thought that a friend would commit suicide. I know it’s frightening to hear when it’s said. I’d rather hear a friend tell me this than to suffer alone.

I’m afraid for my neighbor. She has no support system at all. I’m afraid for her and for her children. When I first moved in and met her I set up a personal boundary that when her husband of 17 years starts hitting her again she can not come here in the middle of the night for my help. I stand by that still. What I will do is let her call me no matter what hour it is when she’s feeling like she needs to die or hell when she feels like she needs to talk.

I know I scared the crap out of friends when I said I was suicidal. I can’t say I’m out of the woods yet but I know in my heart there is hope for me. I have 2 appointments set up to see a new psychotherapist. I see one on the 28th. He’s a PhD. Heck yes! I mailed off the papers to go to a local center for women. I really want to get in there simply because of it’s location but if this PhD ends up working out I wont be disappointed. When Monday rolls around I’ll make more calls. I figure the best days to make calls is on Monday’s and Wednesday’s. That’s what I’m sticking to. I’ve noticed that I get more call backs when I follow that routine.

I do feel alone a lot anymore. I wondered if I moved from where I was if I would begin to feel isolated again. The thing is, where I came from was sapping the life out of me. I had to move. I don’t regret it at all but I still feel alienated at times.

For awhile now I’ve been worried about my friend “SusieQ”. I’ve not heard from her in months. I’ve not heard from “Gina” either. I fear they have both given up the fight. I hope not. Although “Maggie” is most likely not dead I still think about how she is doing and where she is right now in her recovery. I talked to her on this journal a few times. I wish I knew how she was doing. But the other two, it is my worst fear that they decided to stop.

When a friend commits suicide the sting of it does fade but the grieving process is much different. Man, the anger I felt when Vm* died of natural causes was nothing compared to the anger I felt when Berlin killed herself. Strangely enough I didn’t cry about Vm*, I still haven’t really. But I balled hard and long when I found out about Berlin. Even more strange is that I never met Berlin but Vm* and I were close. I don’t know how to explain it other than to say, there always seem to be that thought “what could I have done?.” That one thought haunts you, it haunts you and makes your bones rot.

When I was with Colombo for 10 years the one thing that kept the friction was that she kept trying to kill herself with me lying in the bed next to her. I never knew if I’d wake up to a corpse. I don’t know how many nights she and I spent in the emergency room with her stomach being pumped or with her in ICU and the nurses demanding that she breathe. I understand why she wanted to die but you know what? You don’t overdose and then lay next to the person you’re supposed to live so you can die. And you don’t cut on yourself in the restroom while they watch TV in the other room thinking everything is fine. And you don’t come out all cut up and bloody with tears streaming down your face and expect your loved one to not be upset. Nobody wants to come home and wonder if their loved one is dead. Nobody should have to be subjected to that. But you know what? What she did was manipulative, and I see it differently than I see the suicidal behavior and thoughts of my other friends and other loved ones. I resent what that woman put me through. I resent the drinking, the acting out, the attempts and the way I responded to those attempts. I wanted to make it better for her. I wanted to be there for another survivor. I don’t know… heck, and I was in love with her (in a co-dependant way) more than I’ve ever been in love with anyone else. I know she’s alive right now. As a matter of fact she’s alive and married with children. Shesh! She wanted kids. I for obvious reasons couldn’t give them to her. LOL.

I worry about my friends, both the ones I see and those that live in this HP. I don’t always know what to say to them to make things better. That bothers me because man I want to make it better. Even though I sometimes struggle with other people’s stuff because my own life is too much for me, I’d rather get that phone call telling me that they need to talk. I’d rather hear their tears over the other end of the phone than to stand by their casket and grit my teeth in anger, in grief, in fear that I’ll end up dead too. I’d rather a friend call me than to suffer at home alone. Hell, I’m up anyways.

So, I’m really worried about UK right now and I’m worried about my friend Chocolate Chip over in Texas and Jersey Girl in Maryland . UK said to me today, “don’t worry, I’ll get over myself.” I thought, the hell you will. The problem is her life, it’s her husband, her lack of support, her not so distant childhood, the fact that she really is alone with no resources for help. Hell yeah I’m worried and I told her so. I told her that no one can do this life alone, nobody. I told her I’d be calling her every day to check in on her and if for some reason she doesn’t answer the phone when I call I’ll march my happy ass right to her front door. She just laughed. I said, you can laugh if you want to but you know I just live across the street. I can be here in seconds.

We’re supposed to get together tomorrow for some stretching exercises and to talk. I look forward to it. Sometimes when I offer strength when mine is low, the joy I get from helping recharges me faster than had I kept it all for myself. What I do know is when to stop offering. I’ve learned that much. If I learned anything from Colombo it’s that there are times when I have to take care of ME before I can even begin to help someone else. I know when to withhold and that is a very important skill to have.

I’ve got to see my pdoc tomorrow so I’d better head in.
Good night,
Austin’s August