May 31st, 2016. I should have been at work, the day after Memorial Day, but I was lying on my back, on the floor of my townhouse garage, with a gun in my mouth. The barrel was cold and heavy, and so large that I had to stretch my jaw open to get it in. It was 8 am.
I pulled the trigger a little, but a voice in my head said “this doesn’t make sense.” I paused. The floor was rough and dirty. I pulled the gun out of my mouth, and there was a little spittle on the barrel. I placed my hands on the ground, lifted myself to my feet, and went upstairs.
I had been working on the plan for 4 days. I had left work on Thursday evening, triggered by some work-related event, and then decided on the suicide later that evening. I spent Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, planning and preparing.
I had imagined that “I would be found out” and decided suicide. Being a practical person, I thought about all the details, made all the preparations, and set my alarm clock to execute the plan. I even thought about the trajectory of the bullet, hence lying on my back in the garage.
My jaw was aching a little. I had dirt on the palms of my hands, and on the back of my body. I thought about the event from Thursday, the planning and preparations I had made over the last 4 days, and scolded myself for not executing the plan properly.
I hurried back down to the garage, laid down, put the gun in my mouth, and pulled the trigger, a little further. The trigger was smooth, but the action got a little harder as I pulled the trigger. That little voice came back, “this doesn’t make sense.” I paused, and went upstairs.
The cycle took about an hour; 15 minutes in the garage, 45 minutes upstairs in the dining room, and repeated nearly the same way 8 times, the only differences being an incremental increase in force applied to the trigger, and a incremental reduction in cycle time.
During 8th cycle, the loop broke, because I noticed that it was nearly 4pm, and that the event I expected to play out, that I was trying to avoid, would have played out already, and that I could check the email to confirm. I checked, there was no event, it had been imagined.
My mind snapped like an elastic band, and I was back in the real world again. Startled, I surveyed my body. I was wearing a pair boxers, and a thick layer of sweat and dirt, from head to toe. My jaw was aching so much I thought it would never recover.
I was exhausted. And I was starving. For everything. Food. Love. Life. I was overflowing with energy. And I was, also, now brutally aware that there was something in my mind that had tried to kill me, and something else that was getting in the way. It was 5 pm.
In the aftermath, my team of doctors advised that I was in danger of another attempt, and that it would probably be sooner than later. They advised all sensible things, like increased medication and more frequent visits. But I so was exhausted. I wasn’t even sure I cared about living.
I decided to let things play out naturally. If this was going to happen again, I thought, why not let it. I had struggled for decades, from a bad childhood, to a life of striving, and alcohol abuse. I was a high functioning addict that had passed its sell by date.
