Suicide Blonde

It's not just a song by INXS. Most people reading this blog probably have no idea who they are. :)

The time I actually tried to kill myself (and ended up in the psych ward in December) wasn't the first time I really wanted to do that. And I know when I write this stuff my family freaks out, but you have to just accept it. I need this release and that's why I write. Don't read any more if you don't want to. I promise I'm not going to try to do that ever again.

The first time I came close to trying was a long time ago. It was a lovely day on the ferry between PEI and Nova Scotia. It was July. The sun was shining. I had been visiting my family in PEI, but now I was going to see the family on the other side of the water.

I had already thrown the book I was reading overboard. Adam had given it to me. It was his favorite. I watched it sink, and then I tossed the notebook I had been carrying everywhere with me. The notebook where I wrote to Adam, whenever I wanted to talk to him, because I couldn’t talk to him in real life anymore. (At this point there weren't very many people at all that I could talk to in real life anymore.)

I was sitting on the floor of the deck, looking out at the water, trying to get up the nerve to follow that up by jumping over myself. We used to take the ferry across regularly, all the years I was growing up, to go see Grandma, and mom always said that if one of us fell overboard, you would get sucked underneath the boat and drown. I didn't know if that was true or not, but I knew I wanted to drown.

I had almost drowned once, when I was eight or nine, some teenage guy had jumped in to save me. But I was sure if I jumped over the railing of the ferry no one would come in after me this time. If I could do it without being noticed, no one would even know what happened to me until I didn’t show up in Caribou. I felt sad thinking about my Grandma, always there on time, waiting for me when I walked off…but this time I wouldn’t. She’d wonder if I missed the boat. There would be some confusion back and forth between the family on either side of the straight, until people realized I wasn’t showing up at all anymore.

I love the ocean, I grew up surrounded by water, and even though it tried to kill me once, I loved the water more than anything. I seemed appropriate. I wanted to die, I’d been thinking about it non-stop for weeks now and this was the way I wanted to do it. At home in Toronto, my plan had been to buy an expensive bottle of red wine and use it to wash down the bottle of sleeping pills that was a constant feature on my bedside table the past 6 months leading up to this. But the ocean – this was so much more fitting.

Then the strangest thing happened. A lady I had never met came up to me. “Can I help you with anything dear?” I was surprised, and shook my head, glaring at her. “You seem extremely sad. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?” Again, I shook my head. Why won’t she go away? “Sometimes life is hard, isn’t it?” Tears stung my eyes. Who IS this woman? What does she know about me? “It will get better. I’m going to be standing right over there – if you change your mind, and want to talk, I’m here. And I love you.”

I wiped my eyes. I was ashamed for being so unfriendly. That’s not like me. I’ve always been the people pleaser, putting on a smile, looking incredibly happy, even if I didn’t feel that way on the inside. And here was a shocking act of perception and kindness, and I was being a complete bitch. Did she really know what I had been thinking about? How did she know? And what moved this sweet woman to approach the most unfriendly looking person on the boat and say “I love you”?

Maybe it was a sign that I was making a mistake. As much as I wanted the pain to stop, this wasn’t the way to do it. And now I couldn't do it if I wanted to, with her standing there watching over me. I sighed and picked up my bag. Maybe I’ll jump in on the way back, I thought. God, The Universe, whatever, obviously wanted me to make it to the other side that day.

Those feelings didn't end there. And I know how people view suicide. They see it as selfish, and it is. It's a betrayal, it's a lack of love, it's a crime against God and family. But it's usually a last resort. People try to be strong. People love their families. Only the most damaged and self-centered people would ever do anything like that just to get back at someone. Those people leave notes and blame someone else.

But some people do it to stop the pain. It's too much to bear. They don't see any way out. Their lives are hopeless, future-less. They love the people around them, but they don't love themselves, and other people aren't enough to keep them wanting to be where they are. And all I'm saying is we should try harder to identify those people, help them, support them. Not turn them into selfish villains.

If they would just hold on, I'm sure, life gets better. And I write a lot of happy, look on the bright side kind of blogs. Some days now, the sun shines for me.

I don't have any answers. But please don't judge anyone who has made a desperate choice you never made. You can't possibly know what they've been through, just like they can't know what you've been through.

And please don't call Michael or the cops on me if you've read this.

Remember, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. :)