A Thursday in September

     I cleaned up my apartment with the thought in mind that somehow I was helping whoever was unfortunate enough to find me.  With a clean apartment and a cluttered mind, I dug through my closet and pulled out the buoy knife I had purchased when I was thirteen with my mother’s credit card.  I pulled the knife out of its sheath and it was bigger than I had remembered. I then ran the knife up my arm and it shaved the hair clean off.  This was it, It was so surreal, but I was about to take my own life.

 

     I had been living in pain for entirely too long and it was starting to take its toll. Whether it was bladder or pancreatic pain, every day I was suffering and my quality of life was starting to come into question.  As if chronic pain wasn’t enough my blood work comes back amiss. Turns out my pancreas isn’t producing enough insulin, so I’m now being monitored for yet another disease.

 

     The connection between body and mind is definitely strong because my depression was getting worse.  Inexplicable sadness and crying in the shower have become a part of my new daily routine.  I’m pushing people away because I can no longer tell them “I’m fine." The truth is I’m going to lose it; it’s all just a matter of time.

 

     As days go by my hope for tomorrow starts to wither and fade.  When I hit my knees at night I’m praying to not to wake.  But sure as the sun rises my eyes open and my prayers go unanswered, my sadness turns into anger and the tone of my prayers start to change. “God, people are dying everyday who are fighting for their lives, here I kneel before you, begging you to let me die.”

 

     So, here I am knife in hand ready to end it all. I’ve never made it this far. I’m more than scared and unsure of what to do. I remember seeing in the movies people slitting their wrists in the bathtubs, so I get in fully clothed and assume the position.  My hands start to tremble as my eyes well up with tears, I hold the blade to my wrist while barely applying any pressure, and then I look down and notice that I’ve already broken the skin.

 

     I don’t know why it took this long, but with seeing the blood, the reality of the situation sets in.  Light sobs and tears turn into full blown crying and weeping as this could possibly be it.  Then I start to wonder if what they say is true, that people who take their own lives spend eternity in hell.  With the fear of being cast into hell; I say the Lord’s Prayer as I push the knife deeper into my wrist, hoping that I will be looked upon with pity, and be reunited with my loved ones in Heaven.

 

     The pain is too much I drop the knife, and scream out, “what is wrong with me!”  I leave the bathroom, crawl into bed and have a complete breakdown.  I grab my phone call my shrink, he answers, “Kris what’s going on?” To which I reply, “Doc, I don’t know, but somethings really wrong with me, I just spent the last hour in my bathtub with a Fuckin knife at my wrist.”