I attempted suicide after my father’s death. This isn’t a damn instruction manual and if you haven’t figured out this whole site IS a trigger warning by now that’s on you. I didn’t wanna live it either. So don’t be a fucking special snowflake.
It was triggered by my father in law desecrating my father’s ashes and my husband’s aunt calling me crazy and telling him to leave me.
As if opening a person’s ashes and handing them to the recipient through your son barely scotch taped together and refusing to apologize isn’t fucking unhinged.
We all have a last straw.
My father died from non-smokers lung cancer. My mother in law smokes like a damn chimney still – after having her own SMOKERS lung cancer in remission for years.
The world is catastrophically unfair.
I took about 140 pills of something I knew would either kill me or not leave so much damage if it didn’t.
Have you ever taken that many? It’s an exercise in swallowing chalk.
And apparently if you’re very fat, you are actually hard to kill in the short term. So as illness eats your body slowly you can’t even end it easily. What a kicker.
I lived. I was mad. And I started my blog again. Maybe just to remember I exist. To wonder if someone will find it and relate. In the hope that things change.
I doubt they will.
I tried again months later. I was going to combine pills with a jump. I looked up the number of floors that would guarantee success. I was a bit under it.
The shared balcony door was jammed that day. I had swallowed some pills but the door was jammed. And at that exact moment my husband came home.
He said the door was finicky.
So I guess that means I wasn’t meant to check out that day.
But nothing is better.
My physical health is worse and I’m just tired. There’s no help – and my insurance wants prior auth before a psychiatric commitment. What a kicker. Those places cause more harm and send you on your way with a 100k bill. And if you die while receiving psych care, here at least, there is no legal route to sue. Because fuck people who struggle. Let’s bleed them dry and call it “help” – then kill them and give their families nothing but the bill.
Sounds about right.
Laughs and Lobotomies 