Down in the field of grass across the way
The deserts of Utah in some remote slot canyon, miles from civilization
On the gun range, right then and there
Then, I go back to how I had originally planned, over a decade ago. Some remote cabin, white fluffy, comfortable bedding, and an overdose. I remember I never made it to a remote place before attempting. The overdose didn’t go as planned either. I thought I’d fall into a deep sleep and if I seized or threw up or something, I’d do it unconsciously, without ever being aware. I remember waking up- what woke me was the feeling of nausea. I ran to the bathroom, collapsed on the floor from weakness, pulled myself up to the rim of the toilet and vomited. Then, I collapsed back onto the floor. I remember staring at the roof of my bathroom and feeling all kinds of weird sensations- my skin was cold and clammy, my heartbeat was irregular, I was shaking, and felt like I couldn’t breathe well. I remember being scared, thinking this was it, and being kind of irritated that it wasn’t as smooth going as I had hoped. It seemed to me that lots of people seem to die peacefully in their sleep from an overdose. Why couldn’t I?
I briefly stared at the roof of the bathroom as I lay sprawled out onto the floor in whatever awkward position I fell in. In seconds, I gave up and closed my eyes.
The next day I awoke, confused and feeling awful…and staring at the roof of the bathroom again, trying to figure out what happened. I was angry and disappointed that I wasn’t successful. I thought maybe vomiting is what did it- maybe my body was able to get rid of the toxins too quickly and too easily.
That’s why when I think of this way now- I think of taking further steps. Lots of sleeping pills to make sure I won’t wake up so I can’t run and vomit. Even if I vomit while out, I can easily aspirate some and choke and die. And now, I have this little heart issue- I think it would be relatively easy to stress my heart to a breaking point. I’m pretty sure that will make things easier.
Also, I had never thought of afterward- who would find the body. Now…now, I know for sure that I don’t want anyone to ever find it. I’m not trying to hurt or traumatize anyone. So I’d certainly go far, far away out in the middle of nowhere and just be considered a missing person. Someone might come across my dried bones in a few decades or so.
This time is so different. Last time, I was overly emotional, had thought deeply about it for at least two years, couldn’t stop weeping, wrote out a note, and willed things to people. This time there’s none of that- except maybe the fact that I’ve thought about it for about a year now. I’m not overly emotional- on the contrary, it seems like a peaceful decision even though I’m deeply sad. I feel like it’s the right thing to do (even though no one will ever understand that). The other part is the finality of it all- it seems so much more final this time…and I’m oddly ok with that.
But…this time, I feel God himself has stepped in…
My thoughts go from semi-happy, loving people, being thankful for people and things that have happened…to all the ways it could go down.
I feel in control again now. I can do what I want, when I want and the only one who can stop me is God.
And then I think of that. And how in just the last few weeks, he’s done that multiple times. It makes me shake my head, confused and wondering why he would want me to live. I just don’t get it.