27 years ago...I took my life with a rifle.

caliber rifle out of the gun cabinet. It was the perfect size to get out of the house unnoticed. One hollow point bullet. We lived in a rural community. The nearest rescue station was 18 minutes away and unmanned. They had to be summoned by pagers and air-horns. The closest hospital was 18 minutes away. The only persons whom at the time, my younger brother and my elderly grandfather. The community was nothing more than 10 acres of woods seperated by 20 acres of fields with a house and so on and so on.


At 4PM, there were few people home on that Friday Night...I was alone. I climbed out of a window with the rifle. I also grabbed a small Gideon's KJV bible. I walked the .25 miles into the woods and sat down next to a small tranquil creek on a discarded milk crate. I sat for about an hour trying to work up the nerve to shoot myself.

My mother left me without so much a goodbye when I was 4. She wrote me when I was 9 and told me, "You have a brother...maybe one day you can come visit us.." she replaced me. My step mother frequently bragged to me how much better my brother was. I was a sissy, loser that was invisible to the world and had no value or worth. I lived in fear, went to school with bruises and malnourished and no one said anything. I was tired and thought suicide would set me free. But I couldn't pull the trigger. After an hour, I gave up and started to walk back home...than I remembered the list and the grades.


My father, liked list. Not finishing the task on the list would illicit a violent blowback. Because I had been in the woods with a rifle for 1 hour, I sqaundered 1 hour of daylight. He would be home before six. Also, they were expecting good grades on Monday. The failed report cards were in my shirt pocket next to my suicide note.

I went and sat back down next to the small creek on the milk crate. I leafed through the bible...hoping it would inspire me. I struggled with the KJV words, also the text looked microscopic. I shut the bible and laid it on the ground. I closed my eyes and prayed this, "Dear God...send an Angel and deliver me please.." The prayer was heart felt and sincere. I imagined when I opened my eyes I would encounter a burning bush. No moment, I assumed God didn't exist or he was to busy to care for me.

I loaded the rifle and placed it 1 inch left of sternum. I simply didn't pay attention in Anatomy class and thought of the Pledge of Allegiance or I would have aimed more to the right. I pulled the trigger.

The first thing I saw was the muzzle flash before anything. Light moves faster than sound. Nothing could've prepared me for what I had done to myself. The kinetic energy made my chest feel like it was nothing more than a cracking egg. The smells were terrible. Sticky hot sweet aroma mixed with the bitter brass taste of gun powder. For a moment I couldn't see because of the camera flash "pop" light in my eyes. Forget breathing.

If you or anyone is struggling with thoughts of suicide here is what you need to know:

Life is a gift like good health. Remember the last time you were sick? You regretted taking good health for granted. Likewise, I regretted pulling the trigger and wanted to get up off the ground and have a do over. Once a bullet leaves, its gone forever. After twenty seven years...my chest still hurts from it.

Second...nothing can prepare you for it. Nothing. It would be like a dude trying to imagine what a mom goes through when she is pushing a baby out. No manner of education can express what a mom is going through unless you are pushing out a baby. This was no different. There were elements of dying a violent death through suicide I had been ignorant about. I thought I was ready for it...until the bullet hit. My body's will to live fought back. You can't turn that off anymore you can will yourself to not sweat, digest food or make urine.


As I started to bleed out, I became aware of another reality. This reality engaged me. I didn't want to die. I could barely breathe or walk. Let alone yell across the expanse of woods, fields to get help. IMO..it was an Angel that engaged me.

I went aprox 90 minutes without surgical intervention. I don't recollect a traditional NDE moments reported unless the moment of shooting myself was so traumatic much of it has been blocked by my brain to minimize the trauma. I did wake up in the ICU several days before the shuttle Challenger disaster. I struggled with ice chips let alone converse with the events on that Friday nite. While watching television I watched that crew perish. I remember thinking, "They went further than me.." They passed a veil. I knew the transition they were going through instinctively that is my only real sensation I knew was different. I didn't have this prior to the shooting. There are a few minor details but this is long. For years adults wanted to discuss with me the shooting and "boy, you came as close to being dead without being gone forever..." I couldn't talk about it. I know the surgeon had to manipulate my heart to keep it going I can almost still feel his hands on it. Or the sensation of my sternum being compressed. It wasn't until this past year I could sit down and honestly look at where I came from when I was a teenager, I broke the cycle of abuse. My children haven't the foggiest idea what it means to lay in a bed, afraid any moment someone is going to throw a door open and drag them out of the bed in the middle of the night to hit them, scream at them, throw plates of food at them or call them a F*ck up that will never amount to anything.


If you are suicidal please, seek help. Life is worth living even when its beating the snot out of you. It hasn't been easy. People have shunned me all of my life post shooting when the truth about my past came out. They told me in the hospital, you would have had better luck if you had your legs cut off or been burned in a fire than have those scars from a self-inflicted gun shot wound. Much of the horse crap we are told makes us happy, doesn't matter a hill of beans when you take your last breathe. For me, what I focused on: My thoughts were on God and i wanted to grow up and be a father. I didn't think about college or girls, cars etc...I've been called more names than should be allowed in a supposedly civilized society as a result of the shooting. Imagine being 17 years old at a pool trying to swim and there is a bullet pock mark next to your breast bone and a thoracotmy scar from left nipple to spine, "Hey kid, where did you get those scars?"

27 years of life I almost didn't live. I wouldn't have had the joy of being a dad or the simple joy of saying, "today I want to get up and just be thankful

I do not what to say. My brother committed suicide by gunshot to face on January 6, 2011. The people he left behind will never be the same.

I am SO GLAD you survived to tell your story.

I am a bit overwhelmed right now reading your story. Stay strong.

Bless you, my friend. Thank you for your life, and what it means to this world.

I am sorry for your brother's loss of life...and it's not a pat response. Truly. There was an overwhelming push to silence what happened to me. The small town where I grew up was told, it was an accidental discharge. I was told to keep quiet about it. 1 year after my shooting, a fellow classmate shot and killed himself. My vice principal shot himself as well both died. Each shooting left me reeling in my own moment. I saw the flash, heard the roar and felt the implosion.

I suffered with survivors guilt for years. I struggled with society and their stigma surrounding it. No one cared to understand why I pulled the trigger. They hit the suicide curtain and that was it, no more reason or compassion.

I shared this story 6 months after the shooting. It was a sports bible camp. They had a microphone night. They said, "Hey campers if God has worked in a mighty way in your life come and share." I listened to the other kids share their stories and anecdotes: God helped me with peer pressure, study for a test, win a game etc etc. I thought, "Hey I bet they want to hear what God did for me...I should've died. I prayed for God to deliver my life with an Angel, and boy I am still alive and thankful to him..." I got up and delivered that story. I think I made it back to my seat before the room irrupted in applause, cheers and hugs. Kids confessed to me, they were suicidal. I took them to their sponsors and the sponsor was shocked and dumbfounded. The kids got help. They were pen pals for months after. I repeated this at a few more camps over the span of 18 months.

One day...I was pulled aside and told, "You can't share this anymore." It was to sensitive and controversial. I had been censored.

I was once suicidal. I once tried to take my life and for a few moments in time, succeeded. But, I saw the value in life. I was sorry and wanted my life back. God forgave and restored my life back to me. I pictured my life similar to the thief on the cross. While dying a violent death he pleaded for mercy and God responded. Likewise, He responded to my pleas. I should've died on that night 27 years ago. I don't totally remember how I got out of the woods. I don't know how my voice carried across the field. I don't know why my brother felt something pulling on his shirt and demanding he run towards the woods. I heard something speak to me that night in the woods. I felt it touch my body. It felt like being grounded on a live wire.


I have had some people contact me and they told me they are alive today because of my interaction at community events. I set up a tent and chat with people, hand out bibles and mental health brochures etc. Trying to reach some that are despondent to the point of death

Thank you for sharing your story. I am glad you are ok and that life is better now.

I am sure your experiences have made you a better father than you would have otherwise been.

Life is precious. Thank you for reminding me of that on this very cold Monday morning.

May you be blessed.

i have known a few people who have ended their lives,i too grew up in a very abusive family and i have had my share of problems from it, i tried to end it in the mid 80,s and wound up in the hospital for a couple days . it isnt worth it it WILL get better , life sucks alot especially these days but i just grit my teeth and keep plugging away. too anyone out there comtemplating suicide i say DONT, give time her chance, and find someone whom you can share your life with . people who have weathered a stormy past are beacons of hope to those who are NOW experiencing it for themselves. peace

I just like the title op, interesting.

Lost my glasses, so skipped the whole text part.

Wow that was deep. I'm so thankful you survived and i pray God will use your story to help others who are struggling with abuse and other things. God bless you. I'm happy that you stopped the cycle of abuse and became a better person. You deserved the best growing up and God will reward you one day for not perpetuating the sin of abuse beyond yourself. You are inspiring :)

OP your story was very touching and moving. Thank you for sharing. I know how judgemental people can be. There have been three suicides from people I have known. I didnt happen to be close with any of them, but close enough and I saw at the funerals a deep sadness but also strangely anger by some who seemed to be hurt by what the victim did. How could a person be angry at the suicide victim?? I think that is terrible and very judgemental of people.

At one point in my late 20s, I found myself on the street - homeless. I suffer with Post Truamatic Stress Disorder and still the bouts of depression, making keeping a job difficult at times. After looking at my life over the last two decades I understand somethings about suicide and life. One of the fears...you may actually try it again. Every failed attempt supposedly raises odds of future attempts by 40x. I broke a sacred trust when I pulled the trigger.

My own brain wouldn't trust me. I think when I was battling to stay alive, *if* I lived...never again. My brain built a safe vale type switch inside of me. It always monitors my life. When my life started to get overwhelmed it shuts down.

The season when I was homeless...my wife had just had an affair. I was working fulltime and going to college full time. I was devestated by the affair, unable to sleep, concentrate and worried I may turn to my drug of choice, suicide. I didn it once before, and I had desentyzed myself to the fear of it. So I started yanking irons out of the fire. Quit college, quit work, everything.

I paid a price for it. I slept for two years. I worked as a bouncer at night and slept during the day but I was alive. LIfe got better. I picked up the pieces and started over.

This year, I lost my job due to the economy. My family and I are struggling but I continue to count blessings. Take one day at a time and tell the beast I fought...life is worth living. If I have to live under a bridge, so be it. I'll never give up. I'll never quit again. On Friday, one of my friends called me up and asked if I wanted to work with him. I have a job waiting for me in Feb. My wife and I downsized our home to save in housing cost, life always does get better. No storm rages forever. They always have a beginning, middle and an end.

After the round went off...that voice whispered in my ear, "Name a reason to live..." I frantically thought ove my sixteen years of life and heard and felt a wrinkle in time. I heard the sound of a child playing/laughing....I said, "I want to be a dad..." It said, "That's a good reason, crawl now!" When I was homeless and the beast came kicking at my feet and it said, "What's the use of going on?" I remembered back to that day in the woods and told it, "I have a reason to live...get away from me."

God Bless you op. We can stop the cycle of abuse and I remind myself every day that my children will never know the life I did. I never attempted suicide but I had another life in my dreams and I would go to sleep early with anticipation that in my sleep, in my dreams, I could be happy and no longer afraid. I actually thought the abuse was normal until I was 14.
Now it is as if I can correct the wrong doing by hugging my children and telling them I love them. Breaking the cycle is therapy in itself to me.

Carry on my friend, hugs to you.

Thanks for sharing OP. Powerful stuff.

*****

Your story is very powerful. I'm sorry for what you had to go through but now I believe that you are helping others by telling about it.

Keep telling people...you may be saving lives! I am so glad you are here to make a good difference in this world! Thank you for sharing your story!

May Peace and Love be with you always! and may you be bless with great things!

Remarkable story...do not ever feel shame, as sometimes drastic measures are needed for a change...glad you survived and probably changed the life of not only you but your abuser as well! I give you many props for the post...took alot of courage...

Very powerful story....thankful you are still here. I am sure that you sharing your story over the last 27 years has saved more lives than you will ever know. Keep enjoying your life with your family and living out God's plan for you.

How was your family different after you went back home?

Wow. Thanks for sharing, OP. I'm glad you are still with us.

Great story, thanks. very powerful and moving.

If it is not true, then you are one hell of a writer, and thanks anyways.

Message conveyed and received.

Sorry :(

this thread needs a pin.. alot of people have moments

Did you still have to do the list of chores?

So, all in all...you are an absolute failure.

My family member actually did die.

Fail!

There were two hells I experienced that day. The moment after the gun went off and the other, chest tube insertion. I remember being wheeled into the trauma bay and at that point I was done. I wanted to go. I couldn't breathe, I was wracked with bouts of shivering from the shock and my pereption of time and space was different. Much like being at the beach. You decide you are going to perhaps walk back to the shore. Your head bobs under the surface, its peaceful and quiet. Than you break back above the surface and see another reality. The noise, air temperature and light etc. I wanted them to let me go. From what I can piece together I was about 1hr and 15 minutes to 1 hour 30 minutes post shooting by the time I hit the trauma ward. I remember turning my head and seeing my family out in the hallway looking in at me. They were visibly shaken and weeping. My father covered his face and walked away. Years later he told me, "Boy, you looked dead when I saw you..." I remember being upset they were walking away from me. I wanted them to come back, I didn''t understand why they left me, we had just made eye contact. I heard them say, "Hold him down this is going to hurt...." It was the chest tube insertion. It would be at that moment I broke the underwater perspective and went back to the reality of the trauma room.

My brother had nightmares for twenty years after seeing me. I made a mistake of looking down at my feet after the shooting but just before the squad arrived and saw the mess I had become.

The POW/internment type environment was folded up. He apologized to me in the ICU. I avoided the woods for over a year. To this day, at this time of the year I prefer to stay out of them. One year after the shooting he thought I had plenty of time, "to get over it" he dragged me down to the woods and made me stand infront of the tree I sat next to while I blew a hole into me. He made me walk to that tree and touch it. I thought I was going to pass out. The police gave him my report cards, suicide note and rifle. The suicide note and grades were unreadable, they were nothing more than a blood soaked rag.

I haven't spoken to my family in 6 years. My father has problems with women. That was one of the issues in our home, his routine abusive nature and womanizing behavior. Shortly after his divorce from my step mother he showed up at my home wanting me to help him get established in our community, I said, "sure." For a few months I worked with him. My wife and I had a 2 year old daughter and our son was 5 months old at this time. My wife is striking and a head turner...one afternoon she tells me, "Your dad gives me the creeps, he wants to hug when we are alone, and I am afraid of him...."

I said, "say no more..." I confronted him. He trashed my child-hood and was bent on allowing his sickness destroy my family. He demanded to see my wife and started to shove past me. I told him and I meant it, "take one more step towards that house...it will be your last....dad." I called my family, come to find out he was inappropriate towards my first wife, and I never knew. There was much more to him I found out that had been kept secret. I wanted to distance the man until he could get help. I thought surely, my family would rally around me, circle the wagons. Nope. He had manipulated them to make them believe, I was in the wrong. I divorced myself from the madness and planted new roots for a young family tree.

well, actually no.


The bullet fragment stopped to close to my spine for the surgeon to remove it less he paralyze me. If the bullet crossed that space, it would have severed my spine causing me to collapse in the woods unable to move.

In so far as not aiming at my head, as your comment is nothing new. If this should come up, I considered it, I wanted to look human when they found me.

I picked up a shotgun when I was 15. Loaded it. Removed the safety and started to pull the trigger. I felt the resistance but stopped. I knew the mess it would make. Altered the plan, decided a shot through the heart...and I would wake up in heaven.

I'm glad you survived, OP, but you've had a really shitty life. Why are you giving God the praise? for a shitty life? It looks like it was all you pulling yourself through really hard circumstances.
You probably don't want to hear this, because it was so painful, but we learn the most from abusive parents and abusive people. No doubt, you're a better man/human than either of your physical parents.
Why your mother didn't take you with her when she escaped from the monster, I don't know. Maybe she feared he would track her down if she took you.
Anyway, just keep getting better, and give yourself some credit.

Or maybe you're just too stupid for a long, very enlightening story.

Thank you for sharing, OP. You may have just helped a few people who are trying to cope with this issue.

Never be censored again. The story of you at camp helping others really moved me. God is with you, and as you give this gift of heartfelt experience, God becomes part of someone else.

You have blessed your children with a loving father and a graceful, peaceful life.