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27 years ago...I took my life with a rifle.
Ms Sans Serif
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[quote:BRIEF:MV8yMTEwNzI0XzM1NTg0ODAxXzc2NkZENzFB] Did you still have to do the list of chores? [/quote]
Twenty seven years ago, at age 16. I took the end of a rifle and put it 1 inch from my heart and pulled the trigger.
Here on Jan 24th I will celebrate my 27th life anniversary.
I used to have a F/B account and wanted to acknowledge my upcoming anniversary but I discontinued my account two weeks ago (don't miss it). I started a suicide prevention page last year, I do miss the page but I left some admins behind to run it for me.
I suffered/suffer with debilitating bouts of depression. I grew up in an abusive home. On occasion I was hit until I bled and was blamed that the beatings...were my fault. I lived in fear for my life from the abuser. One night, when I was 14...the man stopped a truck in the middle of dark reasonably busy road. He turned out the lights on a blind curve, to yell at me for several minutes. I had a chainsaw swung at my head one afternoon. Locked in a bare room for days on end...it goes on. I tried for 7 months to reach out for help. I demonstrated many of the classic signs and symptoms of a suicidal person: I gave things away. I talked about no future...was obsessed with death. Cuts, bruises started to show up on my body. I even read an entry in an encyclopedia entry on suicide to see what I should be doing.
I finally gave into to suicide in June 1985. I made attempts at suicide from June to Jan. or "shows of suicide"... I made a pact with myself. I decided that between Jan 1- May 30...in 1986 I would shoot myself. I reached the resolution phase. The abuse at home was always bad over summer. I was safe in school or in public. The abuser was a high ranking police official. Because, i knew I was going to be dead I had no need for grades or school....my semester collapsed. Classes I typically maintained a passing grade...collapsed to failures. (Another sign something was wrong). I enjoyed my last Christmas. To this day Bruce Springstein's "Santa is Coming to Town" causes PTSD flashbacks. The song was played all the time on the radio a month before I shot myself.
On Jan 23, I brought home the worst grades ever. My step mother happened to catch a look at my brothers grades before mine. His grades weren't bad, but he had seen what happened to me growing up and he was afraid. My step mother warned me, "For your sake...your grades had better be better than this or I wouldn't put it past your father to hurt you."
I had my plan in place. I lied to her. I told her my grades were actually very good and I would have them for her on Monday. They were in my pocket. My exact thought..."It's time" My father got home and bought the lie as well. He gave me a very long list of chores to do for the next day. This list...like the report cards sealed my fate for the next day.
The next day Jan. 24th I got home from school. I set my plan into motion. I snuck a .22
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