The End (a suicide story) Part 3

Life in the State of Mania

“Your father isn’t coming home any more  – he didn’t love us enough, so he killed himself” 

Last Part — In the Middle (a suicide story) Part 2

I had a support group that was watching, and listening for anything that just didn’t make sense come from me. But remember one more thing about my support group at that time, Doctor-housethey had been warned about my state of mind by those who was administering to me. (Doctors, Counsellor, etc.)
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family, but that I was no longer in control mentally and I may as well have had a brain tumor — the death sentence was the same. Now I am so glad that I didn’t end my life that day, but the reality is that life — itself — is not easy — has not been easy, and probably will never be — at least for me.

Those people that show up at your door after the loss of your loved one due to suicide, don’t — know — anything, and never will, until they have walk down that dark hallway in route to their own suicide. These people, are people, who come to judge, not to help you find peace, they are the people that love nothing better reality TVthan to watch you fall on reality TV. No one — I mean —NO ONE— on this earth is in a place to judge a person in the case of a suicide, because no one can know what is going on in another person’s mind.

god handsOnly god knows, and god is the only one that can make judgement in the event of a suicide. (Yes that was a religious statement, and my belief.) But let’s think about it, if there wasn’t a God could a human know the events leading up to a person committing suicide? Again this is one death that is not easily understood within the confines of human ability.

We humans think that we are a lot of things, but mind readers we are not. Whenmind reader we as friends and family go and visit the survivors of death there needs to be compassion for the family; a good ear to hear them, and a good shoulder to bare them up during this time, not our opinions, and conclusions.

So with that, I am done with this soapbox… for now… Stay tuned…

In the Middle (a suicide story) Part 2

Life in the State of Mania

coffin in groudAnother day in America, another funeral, and the statistics again are counted, confirmed, and written down somewhere for everyone to see. But for the survivors of the suicide the tragedy, or should I say travesty has yet to begin. To the friends and family it now becomes their duty to fix the survivors  in the ways that they understand . So for the left wing righteous among us according to their  Religion 101 the act of suicide is one of the greatest sins against God, and going to 

hellhell is the judgement on those that commit suicide.  All that was eternal is now stripped away from that lost soul to suffer in anguish for all time.


NO!!! No amen here, I cannot believe that God would be so unjust, but then again some of the stories in the bible are kind of scary. The God that I believe in knows that the majority of suicides are made by the clinically depressed, mentally unstable in a world that gives birth not to Gods but mere humans — 490000 human babies every day!

Now to step back to Part 1, and that path that I was on. In those last days before I was institutionalized I told you of a peace that came over me, and in my self-talk I had committed to the idea, and had formed a plan. A Psychiatrist once told me that; “There is nothing more dangerous, or incredible; than when a Bi-Polar has come to a decision” and I was there. It is all a blur to me leading up to that night, and it was time for me to act, me wife knew that something was up and confronted me, and all hell broke loose, I do remember some of this, and that every immediate family member came with my family doctor to the house breaking horsesthat night. They, my family and the doctor talked me down it was like saddle breaking a new horse, I was then taken to the mental hospital, yes I said it; “mental hospital”

The noises that came from the hallways as I tried to sleep that first night was everything you would come to expect from a good asylum horror movie, but I asylummade it. I awoke in the beginnings of a drug induced lobotomy and made my way to the sitting area, where a gathering of patience’s where sitting, staring, and worse.  As I sat there, all I could think was; “Oh — my — God, this is a mistake” I wanted to scream but who would notice and they would just shoot me up with more drugs. I remained calm and waited for a chance to call my wife.  That day she came and got me, then moved me to a closer hospital that could care for me, it was there I spent the next few weeks.

“Your father – he didn’t love us enough, so he killed himself, and isn’t coming home anymore”

I hear statements like that all the time from those that have never been, or refuse to admit being depressed. I shudder at their comments, and want nothing more than to slap those speaking silly. I know now, that I was very close to the ending my life one night a long time ago, but I was lucky, I have a family that believed differently than those people do, I was luckier than those that made the statistics list that day.

Stay with me only one more post to conclude this series. “The End” (a suicide story) Part 3   — Will be coming soon…

The Call — (random posting 1)

Life in the State of Mania

*Defining Random Posting #; To post a little something, between posts, not relevant to previous posts that are not completed.

calling-mobile-phoneLast week, I called a man, to tell him, that my Mother had told me — her son — that I was, his son.

There may have been some due pressure for me to do this, if only to find out some medical facts for my immediate family. For me I am 55 years old, and I had resolve to the fact that it just wasn’t needed, so why bother? But some unforeseen force made me call one morning last week while in the solitude of work.

The Call

Begin (screenplay)

He answered my call, and with extreme intrepidness I asked; “Do you know me?” (insert a name for me),

Calmly he replied; “No, I don’t think I do.”

Now in a shaky voice I stated: “Do you know (insert mother’s name here)?”

There was a slight pause, and then he said; “Oh,— yes I do know her.”

Still trying to catch my voice I said as calmly as I could; “Well she told me that you were my Father.”

Immediately he said; “No, I don’t believe that I am.”

After pointing out some relative facts, that he validated for me I asked; “Then how was it that you were made to pay support to my Mother?”

Very simply he said; “You were born with O positive blood, and I have O positive blood. That was all they needed to prove paternity at that time, every other person in America has O positive blood — now they would do better tests.” 

End (screenplay)

The call continued with me trying to use short sentences to gather more information. He spoke briefly about how my Mother and him were just “Hookups” and had only “Hooked up”  a couple of times, and at the end of every one of his paragraphs came the resounding reply that; “No, I don’t believe that I am your Father.”

I finally asked him the question that had forced me into the situation in the first place, and that was for some medical questions about the genetics of the family line, even though I wasn’t his son, so he says. He obliged; and the phone call ended.

giftTo be honest I feel OK about this, it (the call) is finally over we spoke, very congenially, what happens now who knows. I feel deep down the he is my blood Father, and that it is a “He said, She said, thing between my Mother and him. My age and state of mind currently is allowing this to happen, and to happen without incident. I now know some medical, and some genealogical history that I will keep with me like some kind of gift that I can now pass down to my boys.

Movies, Reality, and Sex….

Life in the State of Mania

From here to EternityHow many of you, in your dreams see that sandy beach, and the waves lapping onto your body – and the body of your significant other; as you make love

NOT! In that case have you seen the picture of Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr from the movie From here to Eternity? Supposedly this is one of the top romantic movie scenes of all time. But is it reality? Could it happen to you? The odds are better that you could to win a small lottery, but by only a few percent I’m sure.

popcornMovies put in to our heads the possibility of what sex could be in our daily life, and that; at some point, you and your partner could come together and become one flesh. Wow! – I’m all a quiver now, one flesh, one soul, a magical bond for that – perfect – moment. Then after every fight with your significant other, the perfect make up sex, and the next morning all is right with the world — again. The hope is; that in our real world we could have the happy endings that is scripted in to the movies that we go to every weekend. But it doesn’t happen that way, and that is why I don’t go to the movies every weekend unless some beautiful female vampire is killing people.

Now you’re saying; “This guy is just a disgruntled possessor of life”, maybe so; but for me there is nothing better than a movie that is a comedy, and the plot is a romantic love story, how ironic is that! I would take one of those movies over a shoot’em up movie any day. I crave, need, want romance, but cannot make it work in my life. So, am I disgruntled, or just dysfunctional?

heebie-jeebiesEither way; the desire for romance in my personal life spills over my working life, affecting me in undesirable ways. It is as if I had “Sex” written, and pulsating in neon on my forehead for all to see! EGADS!!!  The fact is that I work in an environment that is mostly women, my aura enters a room before I do, and you can see it in the expression on the faces of the women, Eww, it is him …” you literally see their skin crawl with the heebie-jeebies. I have to force myself to think of kittens, and puppies, and wipe the sexual tension off my sleeves, where I wear it.

elfIt is hard working as a professional with this going on, I have been reported to HR (Human Resources) 2 times for sexual harassment, both times were dismissed because of the fact that the comment made was deemed as not sexual, but that of a person who has not entered the twentieth century. So what does that say about me? It states that; although not dangerous; I might be an old pervert.

(my head shake disgustedly)

“Damn this isn’t good!”

(muttering to myself out-loud)

(A momentary reflective pause; the screenplay continues…)

BAMBI-AND-FALINEThe movies, yes, it is the movies that are to blame for bringing me to this low point in my life, it’s probably a good thing that I didn’t like shoot’em up movies. So how do I get control over my reality of sex, hmm …? Or should I say “Sexual reality” that in real life is never as good as the movies, Bambi had it better.

If I could adopt the notion of reality vs. movie reality, then I could move on with my life; thus “Transmuting my sexual desires into personal aspirations”, Napoleon Hill would be proud! But I am still left with how to fix this? I thought that with age my primal urges would subside, a natural neutering, so to speak, but this hasn’t happened — yet.

from-here-to-eternity-end-title-stillSo I guess, I will continue on, fighting with the earthly man, until my sexual drive diminishes; which I hope I have until I am dead!!!

(1 Corinthians 15:48)