A lot of times I feel the urgency to write about something from my childhood but I hesitate on it until the feeling subsides. Mostly because I feel a sense of loyalty to my mom. I try to tread lightly when bringing up the past so people won’t judge her for some of the shit that happened. The last week I’ve had a lot on my mind and anyone who talks to me on a daily basis knows it’s been tough.
I think Chester commiting suicide brought on a lot of emotions that I struggle to keep in a lock box somewhere in the back of my head.
Ive tried to keep my emotions to myself and not be dramatic, as I didn’t know Chester personally, but something really struck a chord.
Suicide has and always be something I hold on a very personal level and heres why;
When I was young, my mom drove into a church parking lot and shot herself in the chest. She missed her heart barely. That was the first of many suicide attempts.
By the time I was 15 life had taken us down a dirt road that felt like a dead end. I remember feeling so hopeless that I just decided I didn’t want to live anymore. I don’t remember it being a long discussion with myself. To me, back then, suicide was just a normal thing. I had saw my mom try and do it so many times that it was just another decision like going to school, or anything else. I went into my moms medicine bag, took out her bottle of valiums and ate them. I couldn’t swallow pills back then so I chewed them with popsicles. (not sure how I thought that one up) As I fell asleep I literally remember thinking to myself “okay, this is it” Thank the universe it wasn’t. I was told when I was found there were popsicle sticks stuck to me. Ill get more into all of that one day in my book.
Fast forward to 2010 I get the news at work that my dear friend who was like a brother to me and also my roommate, was in the hospital. He drove his truck out to a remote road and shot himself in the head. Luckily, he also lived. Now this is a guy who I never ever once even suspected suffered depression or suicidal thoughts.
Fast forward to 2015, my uncle, my moms brother commits suicide.
Fast forward again to 2016, the man my mother claims could be my biological father commits suicide by hanging.
Over the past week theres been something weighing on my mind and heart, something that happened to me when I was probably 10 that Id like to share.
Now as I mentioned before my mom made many suicide attempts but one really sticks out, one was excessively damaging to me.
If youve read previous entries of mine you’re somewhat familiar with my childhood and that my mom suffers from Multiple Sclerosis, on top of being bi-polar and many other issues. She was addicted heavily to prescribed narcotics majority of my childhood which were brought on after major back surgeries and then being diagnosed with MS. That is what made things so difficult, thats what changed the course of my childhood. Mom was very depressed all of the time. She was always in pain and just laid in a hospital bed in her room 24/7. Literally. Unless she had a doctors appointment that day she didn’t leave the house. Mom was very manic and up and down and if she would run out of her meds early that month we were prepared for hell. We were very aware at a young age that she didn’t want to live. She was miserable all the time.
There was this particular night that really stands out. As I said earlier I was probably 10 or so and my mom called my sister, brother and myself to come into her room. She told us that it was the last time we were gonna see her that she was going to take all of her medications and go to sleep because she just couldn’t take it anymore. I remember her words. “we were all better off without her and it was the selfless thing to do” None of us knew what to do, but it felt so normal to us. The three of us sat there and cried. We didn’t have anyone else, nobody to call. I ran to my room and shut my door. I started writing, I wrote my mom a letter, I remember being hysterical and my tears falling on the paper, blurring the ink as I wrote. I don’t know word for word what I said, but I do remember telling her that I was tired of seeing her cry and tired of her being sad and miserable. I told her that I would be okay if she needed to go, that I would be okay. Now, as an adult thinking back on that, a tear streaming down my face, wondering how in the fuck that scenario could even be real. Who puts that weight on their kids? That letter stopped my mom from trying to kill herself that night. But years later during a fight we had (prob pre-teen yrs) she actually threw that up to me. Told me that she couldn’t believe I was going to just let her do it and that I didn’t even want her around…. That is something I will forever carry with me.
I brought that up to my mom for the first time a few months ago. She had no recollection. She says she hates herself for what she did. She holds a lot of guilt for those years, as she should. But I do know that regardless she always loved us more than anything, except maybe the addiction.
Also, I just want to note that my mom is my bestfriend and honestly she always was. Aside from the shitty times we had alot of good ones and I was a huge mama’s girl. I loved her more than anything which is why I felt/feel a huge loyalty to her. When my brother and sister left I stayed. I could have moved to FL with my dad, not had to worry about taking care of her, or whether we would have power that month, or food. I could have never left her. I understood she was sick both mentally and physically. I understood she was fighting the depression battle on top of an addiction battle.
That one particular story from my childhood has been bothering all week. I’m not sure why but I felt compelled to share it.