World Suicide Prevention Day
The day I cut my right wrist, I went to have breakfast with the man who would end up becoming my best friend. He was whining that his youngest baby mama was working his last nerve and he wanted to shake some sense into her. We weren't nearly as close as we were now and I was annoyed that he was using me as a refuse dump for his problems; all of which were minor. He was upset because she didn't leave medicine with her babysitter and he was unable to get off work and bring medicine three boroughs over. I said: "We have sex and sometimes babies pop out, deal with it." I also told him that if it were a real emergency that he would have flew in his shag wagon to fix whatever was wrong or tell "the babysitter" to get to a pharmacy and you'll reimburse them. I almost chuckled at the fact I was giving advice with my wrist bleeding. He didn't know he saved my life that day. Him calling at the ass-crack of dawn to go driving interrupted my cut. I was about one inch down my wrist, the blood was just starting to pool under my skin. I didn't feel any pain because I popped a couple Motrin and iced my wrist until it was so numb that my wrist felt like it had a bad itch rather than a deep cut. At the time, I was too embarrassed to discuss my depression because I was afraid of being hurt or locked in another cupboard (that's another story). I had given up. I didn't want to speak to my friends, even though one had an advanced degree in Psychology at the time. I felt no one could help me get over this feeling or weather the internal storm going on inside me. So, I updated my will and gave my heirs detailed written instructions to dump me in Potters field (NYC graveyard for those who can't afford a burial or whose bodies haven't been claimed), should I die unexpectedly.
I got the call and hastily wrapped my wrist in a makeshift bandage. I covered my bandage with a black cuff and went downstairs. We went driving down Kings Highway, and stopped for grub and I barely get a bite of sandwich in when my bandage bleeds through. I honestly forgot that aspirin thins the blood. All I heard was the car screech and the marine ask if I'd been shot. After I spluttered my beverage from laughing, I told him I had a little boo boo and he cursed me out. Through the venom, he managed to explain the importance of family. He also screamed like a girl in a language, that after several years, I still can't decipher. He said we needed to stop to a bathroom because he may have shit himself. I laughed until the tears blurred my vision. It was the combination of humor and his complete and utter revulsion that I would harm myself and leave him, that made me realize I was worth something. He said I couldn't just file people away and make a list and then expect people to comply after I jump off a cliff. He said I was being selfish.
I was afraid to speak. I spent the previous three years before that night afraid to tell what was in my heart without fear of reprisal. I was just peeking back into the world and I didn't realize the newest member of my team was there with two "Captain Save A Hoe" life vests on.
I said all that to say, sometimes the world is going to suck. You build your support system, you network and above all, you love yourself. It will all fall into place and if it doesn't, click the link at the top of these nonsensical ramblings and talk to anyone. Someone somewhere will listen or poop themselves trying to make you feel better.
