Since I’ve posted in the Addiction and Depression section … I’ve even considered deleting it and adding a “love” section or something a little more cheery. But here’s the real deal:
After all, I’m big into that power of positive thinking stuff, right?!
Truth is, I really was believing in the power of positive thinking. Heck, I wanted, no needed, to believe in it. It gave me hope. I thought the tides had turned in my life, and I was gonna live my dream. I started this blog and even hoped to help folks suffering from depression. Instead, one of my friends, who used to read my posts, committed suicide … blew her dang brains out (brave girl). Yikes … that was hard. What was even harder was the ignorance shown to me by some of my former coworkers at the funeral home, but I was there to worship her memory, not play office politics.
No, I’m not looking for sympathy. Writing just helps. Like the first image says, I’m both happy and sad. Unfortunately, the sadness usually wins out … that bastard! Hehe.
Isn’t she so pretty? WARNING! Language … if the “F” word offends you, stop reading now. I need to get this out. That is my mom. I always knew she would eventually kill herself. I don’t think I could have prevented it. That said, I left her when she needed me most. Here’s what happened:
I got a phone call that Mimi (my mom) was found in a catatonic state. She was supposed to be a hostess at some event and didn’t show up, so one of her friends went to check on her. This person found her sitting in a chair in the living room just staring straight ahead. I reckon the lady called for an ambulance … I dunno.
I just know she ended up at a local hospital, where multiple medical tests were run. It was determined that whatever was wrong was psychological and not physical. So she was transferred to a psychiatric hospital. If I recall correctly, late hubby and I drove up to NH right away with our dog, Crystal. We brought my ‘puter so I could still work, as I was doing medical transcription at the time.
Ain’t she precious?! Fast forward to our first visit with Mom. It was bizarre. She thought she’d been in a car accident and that her house had burned down and all kindsa crazy stuff. Nothing she said made sense, and my brother had to spoon feed her. After a few days of being medicated, she seemed quite “normal” again. After just a week in the psychiatric ward, the doc let her go home and prescribed her a shit-ton of psychiatric medications.
OK fine. I take her to the pharmacy to fill the prescriptions, and it turns out they are gonna cost her hundreds of dollars a month. Naturally, she freaked out and worried about how she would pay for them. I, being the selfish person that I am, just wanted to come back to NC. Doing the transcription from her kitchen table rather than my $800 ergonomic chair was wreaking havoc on my body, wah wah wah. So after she was home a day or two, we left. I will never forget her watching us leave out her bedroom window. I knew something wasn’t right, but I left anyway.
I’m sorry, Mama … I never meant to hurt you … I never meant to make you cry. I messed up.
We drove part way back to NC and stayed in a hotel that night, in Maryland I think. Soon as we got settled, I called my mom to check in. She was upset with me cuz I had cable TV hooked up at her house, so we argued. Heck, I was married to a man … men like their TV. Not to mention there wasn’t much else for Don to do while I worked! I told her I would pay the monthly bill. Didn’t matter. She hung up pissed at me. That was the last time we spoke. Awesome memory, huh?!
The next day, we were almost home, (we were renting the house above and LOVED it) like 45 minutes away, when Crystal decided it would be a wonderful idea to shit all over the backseat of my Toyota Tercel. We stopped at the Waynesville rest area, where after cleaning up the mess, I tried to call my mom. No answer. I knew right then something was wrong. I can’t drive by that rest area anymore without unpleasant memories.
We got home around 6ish in the evening. I tried again to call my mom … and again no answer. I called my brother and asked him to check on her. I didn’t hear anything back from him, so I called her house again. A female voice on the other end said, “Hampstead Police Department.” OMG. The female officer told me I need to call my brother. I did and he said, “She did it.” I felt awful that he had to find her like that. Frickin’ surreal.
So I guess at that point, shock settled in. I dunno. I called some airline and secured an airplane ticket for me and da mutt to leave the next morning. Don and I loaded up the Jeep Cherokee with my ‘puter so I could work up in NH. I found some semblance of peace by going outside in the middle of the night and filling up the bird feeders, knowing full well they’d be long empty by the time we got back.
The next morning, I flew up to NH with my li’l dog Crystal, which was a freakin’ nightmare. She took a dump in the middle of the Charlotte airport, and some guy yelled at me cuz he thought I was walking away when I was going to the bathroom to get some paper towels to clean it up. He just kept yelling at me. I wanted to say, “MOTHERFUCKER my mother committed suicide, give me a fucking break!” But I couldn’t even get that out. I simply said I was going to the bathroom for paper towels.
Then when we got to the airport in Manchester, NH, I let Crystal out of her carry-on bag as soon as we got outside. Some really handsome airport security dude got on my ass saying she is not allowed outta the bag til we get to the parking lot. He became ugly to me very quickly. I really wasn’t trying to break the rules, but my curly-haired K-9 had “shat” all over the inside of the dang bag. Late hubby arrived a day later with my computer and whatnot so I could still work.
I’m pretty sure it was the same day I got up there that we had a meeting at the funeral home. The funeral dude gave us the death certificate and then left the room for some reason. I read the certificate. All I knew was that she had OD’d on all those expensive psychiatric meds, three bottles of them, but the death cert said she died of asphyxiation. I looked at my brother and said, “So OD’ing causes asphyxiation?” He said, “No, I didn’t want to tell you, but she also put a plastic bag over her head.” Nice. Well, she got what she truly wanted. No cry for attention here.
Going through her house was hard. She had pictures of my brother’s boys propped up on the kitchen table. She also had apparently left a note, but I never got to see it. From what I was told, all it said was, “I’m sorry.” She was found in her bed. On the nightstand next to her was a crumpled up tissue. That made me sad, thinking she was crying into it before she passed. It really sucked.
I know this post is a huge bummer as well, but I needed to get it out. I don’t really care what anybody thinks about me for posting this. Hell, I don’t have many followers anyway. I think a total of 5 of my “Facebook Friends” have signed my petition. How funny is that?!
If you or anyone you know is thinking of suicide, please check out this website: Suicide … read this first. It has saved me numerous times … well worth the read.
So now y’all know the truth. I have a dark side. Muh ha ha ha! I still think life is good … just not MY life all the time, lol!
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