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

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.

Did you still have to do the list of chores?

You never miss a chance to take a shot...

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.

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

OP, the very best to you and your family.

My brother shot himself in the head quite a few years ago. It's a shame people who are depressed and/or abused and want to take their life, can't see the future without them first. It's a shame they can't see the suffering and loss of those lef behind.

My brother's trauma, came from information that was given to him about his birth when he was just eight years old. He was a very normal boy until an outsider decided to give him information that wasn't for an eight year old's ears. From that moment, the trauma of the knowledge imparted to him at such a young age sent him on a spiral of depression and issues that would mount to an unmanageable point for him and thus, he ended his life to end his emotional torture. No one could save him from that torture, no matter how hard we tried.

OP, I am so glad you are still here.

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

That's awesome that you had the courage to post that here.

Suicide is the only "final" solution. It's sad that people don't realize what a gift life is regardless of what situation you are in.

I myself suffered from an abusive homelife and considered suicide a few times in my younger years.

Thankfully, my father who was very abusive, was also on the emergency response team. When I was 12 he was called to the scene of an accident where a car had swerved into an oncoming transport truck.

In the wreckage were 2 adults and 3 children. I guess they were about the same age as me and my 2 siblings.

He came home that night and hugged each of us and said he was sorry while crying uncontrollably. He never hit any of us ever again.

From 12 - 18 it was tough for me. Though the abuse had stopped at home, the torment from my peers at school and after school was almost unbearable. Thankfully, my Youth Minister at my church saw this and took me under his wing and taught me the most important thing when dealing with bullies...

"In 20 years, you'll be doing what you love and they will be pumping your gas"

Of course it was hard for a teen to conceive of 20 years down the road, but I hung on to it.

Now I'm 20 years down the road and I see my children suffering in the same ways with bullies and I tell them the same things, and help them find solutions to dealing with bullies (my 13 yr old just signed up for an MMA class... she's a tough kid!).

And yes, those guys that used to gang up on me and beat the shit out of me are pumping my gas, or cleaning up my lawn or fixing my roof.

Nothing feels as good as leaving them a big tip and thanking them for their help. The cycle has to stop somewhere.

Thanks again OP for posting this. Best post in a long time on GLP.

Don't post that again or the same thing will happen, OP.