Here now is the truth of why I started this blog to begin with. It's a long one, and maybe it will make you react differently to me (it has affected all other relationships in my life) but just know this, before you begin: since you started reading this blog, this site has always been me. This is what I have been for a while now. I hope you won’t think of me any differently.
But events on Wednesday this week have rather brought it all to a head. Happier post tomorrow, I hope.
One year ago, Company X had an enormous round of redundancies. It was devastating. I lost people that I held very close to me, people that were incredible talented and very valuable. Somehow I not only survived, I got promoted. The whole face of Company X changed, and those of us that were left had a survivor’s syndrome, a guilt that our jobs were left while good men and women were gone.
It was a very dark time for me. I couldn’t focus on work, even though I was traveling a lot. I had masses of problems adjusting. I felt that although I was left and I can do a good job, I didn’t earn it. I remember being on a business trip in Tel Aviv, and the although the Israelis were so kind and generous, I was unable to settle in, to calm down, to sleep at night in my hotel room overlooking the beautiful water.
One week later, on January 27, I had a phone call with Dear Mate as I was driving to work. He told me that a senior manager had told his wife (who also works for Company X) that Company X was extremely regretful that they had kept me. That I was an idiot, a waste of space, and that my name was on the top of the list to go in the next round.
(Side note: yes, I am trying to be big about this, but it fucking galls me no end knowing that those evil, bitter people have won. I have lost my job. They win.)
I was devastated. I went into work and talked to my 2 managers directly, who told me right away that it absolutely wasn’t true and that they were extremely happy with my work. I know now that I shouldn’t have believed it-to say that Dear Mate’s wife and I don’t get on is a horrible understatement. Even though my managers explained it away, I couldn’t stop believing the rumors. All of my fears about being a miserable failure were public. I was sure that everyone in the hallways was laughing at me, convinced of my horrible worthless stupidity. I felt vile, lost, and alone.
It was the straw that broke the Helen’s back. After all I had been through in my life, after all that I had fought my way through and made it, this was the culminating event for me. Stupid, isn't it? I survive so much, but the one thing that comes in and ruins me is something small and insignificant.
Hmmm....Maybe I should re-name myself Mrs. Dalloway.
I went home from work.
I walked the dog.
I started making dinner.
And then I tried to kill myself.
People take their lives for different reasons. Some are noble, or in trouble, in that they kill themselves for political reasons. Not able to express themselves under regimes which find the eloquence of the human voice instigates the danger of thunderstorms of unrest, the catalyst of change finds that rather than have a voice held under irons of restraint, they choose to have no voice at all. That suffering from the inability to speak their minds, the frustration of not being heard is far too great a burden to bear.
Some people do it because they simply cannot tell anyone just how badly they ache. They don’t really mean to kill themselves, nor do they actually want to. But they take the odd measure in an attempt to let the people in their lives around them know that they are so unhappy, so lost, that the option of removing themselves from the scope is a possibility. My God, this group of people hurts so much that I bleed for them. They have surpassed the point of suffering, to the likes of which the normal human can never understand. Hey…they are trying to say…look at how much I hurt. What are you gonna’ do about it?
Then there is the group I am in. I call this group the miscellaneous group. Why are people in my group opting out? Well, I can only speak for myself. I haven’t taken a man-on-the-street poll, I haven’t stopped to email the Health Administration. The real reason why I chose to end everything was because I was so tired. I was just so tired, deep down into my very bones, into every thought I made and feeling I was forced to experience. The pure and simple truth was that I didn’t want to feel anything anymore.
I’m life’s bitch, basically. And on that day, I had enough.
They say that people who commit suicide are cowards, that they have taken the easy way out. But is it really? It is so simple to down the bottle of pills, knowing that if you fail it means at minimum a stomach pumping and a check-in to the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm, at worst it could mean paralysis and a lifetime of looking forward to being a vegetable? And it’s not so easy to slice veins, either. With the first scrape of epidermis, it’s clear that this is not going to be the scot-free painless operation that you had wanted. And if you don’t go deep enough, not far enough, then it’s scars that will have eyebrows raised at you for the rest of your life anytime you reach across the table for the bread rolls.
Why are people who kill themselves cowards? Because they are tired of fighting, every day, and they concede the battle? Because they choose an absolute and final way out? Or is it because they leave behind a legacy of confusion and one absolute unanswered question…what if? What if they lived? Why was I not enough for you to live for?
Here’s the truth-they say suicide is selfish, but I have spent my whole life worrying about others. Caring about others and trying to do what was best for others. At that moment, you’re goddamn right that the only thing I thought about was myself. Perhaps what's saddest is that that moment was the first moment that I had ever focused only on me. When people try to take their lives, the only thing that they can see and think about in that one moment is themselves, so no matter what, if someone you loved has commit suicide, it was not your fault. Please, if you take only one thing away from this post, believe that. When that day comes, you couldn't have helped them. You couldn't have stopped them.
What happened that night, that horrible night, on January 27 was something I wrote about later that week. Here it is:
*****
Numbly, I washed some vegetables for dinner, feeling the awkward surface of the potato under my fingers, the firm weight cupped in the palm of my hand. I was just so tired, and no matter which way I turned my head around to, I couldn’t see a way out of the prison that I had created for myself. Around my ankle, a cat curled her body and my skin twitched as I really didn’t want the contact, I didn’t want to be touched. I set the potato on the counter, watching a pool of dirty water form around it (isn’t it impossible to ever truly get a potato clean?) and wipe my hands on my pajama bottoms. I turned and walked upstairs, to the bathroom.
The next thing I knew, I was sitting on the bathroom floor, a pool of blood around my hands and an empty pill bottle on the floor in front of me, and I realized that all hell was about to be broken loose.
The tears start at once. I stood up and saw, on the sink, a shattered razor head, which I had somehow managed to pry the razor blades out of. The sink basin had a rim of blood around it, trailing down to the floor. On the floor by my feet was a glass filled with water and a pill bottle spilled on its side. It was empty.
And it was that moment that I realized that I had slit my wrists open and taken an entire bottle of painkillers. And I didn’t even remember doing it.
I got on the phone and called my Partner Unit, explained what I had done, and waited for him to come get me. And I sat there on the bathroom floor, bleeding and feeling tired. I was going to die, and I felt relieved.
At the same time, I was curious. All the things I had seen were going to die with me. All of the things that I knew were going, too. Things I have learned in life, lessons and hardships. The secrets I had.
Like the fact that red ants hate peppermint, and can be repelled with it. The fact that a man made me orgasm once just by kissing and blowing on the soft curve of my neck. That in the moments when I am able to hold still and be calm, and just listen to the sound of the snow falling, I can hear nothing else but the rumble of tranquillity. And the best taste in the world is the taste of the faint salt in your fingers after you have spent a day by the sea. The pregnancy test stick, as I watched it change color, to indicate that once where there was only me, now there was someone else too. The fact that I have been incredibly, deeply, and uncontrollably in love twice, despite all of the men that I have said those words to.
*****
But of course, I did not die. I spent that night in an acute psychiatric ward, which was one of the worst experiences of my life and which I will spare you from (I am saving it for "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Next Part 2-Jack's Revenge"). I insisted on being released the next day, and was. I was signed out of work for three months (and, on reflection, I should've stayed away longer). I spent endless hours sitting in an armchair in my home, looking out the window at the snowy cold and wondering what had happened to me.
People here have said I am so resilient. That I keep going, that I can handle anything. The truth is, I can't. I'm not Gumby (unless you are talking about in bed, of course, and then that's true.) I break too. And I did. And in breaking, I found out what I am made of. Work is not the center of my life anymore, which leaves me looking for a new one.
Will I try to kill myself again? Nope. I have an incredible group of supporters that I never knew I had before in friends and family (who have, for the most part, managed to forgive me for my actions on January 27). I am seeing a therapist.
Is losing my job a very serious catastrophe that I am struggling with? You betcha', and it's going to be a tough one to survive it sane. But I can do it. If nothing else, I will write it out, see if the written word makes sense of it all.
This is my life, and I get to live it. And I can't turn my back on that, I can't outrun it, and the memories and thoughts and dreams and desires that I place here, on my blog, are memories that I can't carry around myself anymore.
But don't for a moment think that you should treat me differently. Put those kid gloves away, please. I am no different than the Helen you have always known-rapacious, horny, happy, sad, scarred, and looking for a degree of pulchritude in life that makes it all worthwhile.
I am alive. Jobless. But alive.
-H.
Posted by Everydaystranger at November 20, 2003 04:27 PM | TrackBackHere I am sitting waiting to drudge my way through yet another day where I'm not needed anymore. I wish I could say I'll still be here tomorrow or the day after that or next week but it seems I just don't know anymore. Your post describes me perfectly and I wish I could draw strength from your will to live.....stay strong as it sounds like you have an incredible support group.
Bye
I can relate.
I'm glad you made it through =)
Posted by: Future Memories at January 25, 2004 02:28 AMThe function of the artist is to provide what life does not.
Posted by: Lewin Luigi at January 21, 2004 11:56 PMI've been reading your site for a few weeks now & am starting on the archives. Your writing compels me to read more.
This must have been hard to share. Thank you.
Posted by: cyberangel at December 12, 2003 07:17 AMWhy would I treat you differently based on the simple fact that you once tried to end your life, and to the immense luck and enrichment of a great many people, including yourself, failed?
You are scarred, I knew that already. I now have a better picture of how deep those scars go. But if anything, I admire you more for the resiliency and strength it takes to get out of such a dark place and still be the "rapacious, horny, sappy, scarred" person everyone around here loves so well.
OK, I lied. I will, this once, treat you differently than I otherwise would, seeing as I am a relative newcomer here, and I normally don't do these things until I know the other person a bit longer and better:
*Hugs*
Posted by: Gudy at November 21, 2003 01:14 PMJean-my fellow insomniac! Thanks, darlin', My own personal saviour (and I swear I still think of you like that!)
Les, jozjozjoz, Clancy, Serenity, nisi, Drew and Zenwanderer-thanks. Honest.
Kat-you can reach me at everydaystranger@hotmail.com.
Stevie-girl, you are NEVER alone. And sometimes, just when we think the exhaustion is a burden we absolutely cannot fucking bear for one more second, something nice happens. And that small niceness is enough to shoulder it all just one more day. Don't ever give up. And mail me anytime you need to.
Turning Spork-that was a lovely analogy.
Posted by: Helen at November 21, 2003 06:51 AMI know where you are, hon, and where you've been. I've been there, too, only I didn't have the nards to slice-n-dice. Instead I just did a nice big handfull of Flexeril and Darvon, washed down over the course of about two hours with sips of lovely ice-cold vodka.
I was in that same kind of so weary and numb state, and was startled to find myself on the kitchen floor with the empty pill bottles and vodka fifth... and called a friend and said "I think I just did something stupid" as reality went hazy and my eyelids drooped...
Love you, Helen, sweetie! And I'll be coming here every day to see what's up, and my shoulder is coming here with me, if ya need it...
Posted by: jean at November 21, 2003 06:38 AMWow.
Thank you so much for sharing that.
Metta.
Losing a job suddenly is a freighteningly cold splash in the face. "Oh no, what will I do now?!" But in my 40 years I've always found that things have a way of working out. Just showing up for life is half the battle, and everything flows from there. Feeling tired of it all is pretty normal; but, like you, I'm just too curious about tomorrow to not want to see it.
When I get really tired I like to remember Game 6 of the 1975 World Series. The Reds and Red Sox were in an epic battle. Tensions were high; the Series was on the line. Red Sox catcher, Carlton Fisk, was feeling the life-sapping pressure in extra innings as Pete Rose stepped to the plate.
Pete swung the bat excitedly... and looked at Fisk.
"Isn't this the greatest game you've ever played? Have you ever had this much fun?!" he said.
Carlton was stunned for a moment, but thought "Yeah! Pete's right! This is fun!"
Fisk hit the game winning homer in the next inning.
Pete Rose once said "Pressure is for sissies." But, more than that, I've always loved former manager Whitey Herzog's line: The hardest team to beat is the team that's having fun."
It's just a baseball analogy, but I've found it helpful -- and even inspiring -- to think in those terms.
Never forget: You rule!!
This post changed the way I see you.
I respect you even more now.
Posted by: Serenity at November 21, 2003 02:37 AMis your email on your blog page somewhere's?
Posted by: kat at November 21, 2003 01:10 AMHelen, you are so special and far too good for company x, you deserve better, have faith that it will come to you because it will. much love , n
Posted by: nisi at November 21, 2003 01:08 AMYou share so much of your life and ask for so little back. If there is any truth to Karma you have a lifetime of positive Karma coming you way.
Be Well
Drew
Posted by: Drew at November 21, 2003 12:47 AMWow, what a post. (big hugs)
Posted by: :: jozjozjoz :: at November 21, 2003 12:27 AMH-
I and many others love you.....never doubt that!
Hugs & Kisses.
PS: Thank you...you are one of the bravest women I know of.
Posted by: Les at November 20, 2003 11:54 PMHelen, the only way this changed how I feel about you was to send me over the line from liking you one hell of a lot to flat out loving you. You spoke my soul. You put into words, feelings I can't bear to feel, let alone articulate.
I've been at that point myself before and I still visit there today. I don't think I'd try again, but...there honestly are days (and days and days)that I really do just want to be dead and gone from here, this cruel, hard, hurtful place. Sometimes it just feels like feeling nothing would HAVE to be an improvement.
I'm exhausted and no amount of sleep will ever help.
I'm tired of hurting and failing and trying again only to fail again. It gets so that sometimes I don't even know what I'm trying to do anymore. I'm tired of being scared alla time. I am just so tired of having to be alive...I really don't appreciate my life a bit. Not when I know there are so many wonderful, talented, worthwhile people who have been taken from here, from people who loved and needed them...I wish sometimes I could go and one of them could come back. Not even the idea of eternity in 'hell' deters me. What's hell, after having to be alive?
Thank you, thank you, thank you for knowing these feelings and saying you do. You just gave me more strength than you'll ever know.
I love you. Thank you.
I'm gonna ditto Roger here. Now we're even. Well, except for Roger...
Now stop making me cry!!! *sniff*, *sniff*
*HUG*
Posted by: Clancy at November 20, 2003 10:09 PMAnd MJ, shortt and Courtney-thanks for the support I need it.
Kat-hand in there-I am in email away if you want to talk.
Ash-you just did tell someone about it. How did it feel?
Posted by: Helen at November 20, 2003 09:19 PMBrass-I'm like a page-a-day calendar, only with spritzes of mental illness just to make life interesting.
Rob Part-"Life is hard but the only game in town." Maybe my new motto. Well done.
Gareth, Tiffani (I am so honored by what you wrote, T), Zeno, Guinness and Joey-thanks. Honest.
Dawn-misery loves company. I'm sorry, darlin', and here's to hoping we both find jobs soon.
Kaetchen-my heart goes out to you, masses, girlfriend. And to your mom.
Roger-you have managed to sum up what I have been having problems saying, and for that I owe you. And thanks for the cheering for my novel. I promise to work on it, and maybe post a bit here to see if it really is going somewhere.
And Rob-believe me, please. Ýou are in NO WAY, SHAPE, or FORM responsible. Please, please believe me. When we try to kill ourselves, we have massive tunnel vision.
I am only just learning that myself.
Posted by: Helen at November 20, 2003 08:37 PMOh my God, Helen. I'm so sorry...so much I can't create the words I want to...that I have been able to do in the past. But I know that you are living your life. Sometimes we just have to live.
I'm finding it hard to think a bit now, mainly because I care about you and want the hurt to go away but also (and this is hard for me to write) a close friend of mine committed suicide when I was in junior high. I know that was a long time ago, but I never dealt with it. I never said goodbye before or after. And when another of my friends died in a motorcycle accident just a few years later, I shut it all out. Sometimes I think about it, and your post is what I needed...maybe not at work :-) but I needed to read this.
I think I hear Mark talking through your words. I think I understand his pain a little better, even though he was only 13 years old and suffered a pain I will never comprehend, a pain that made him pick up that rifle. I've heard many people talk about suicide but never in this tone.
I did blame myself and I still do a little bit. I was his best friend and I didn't know. It's been over twenty years. One day I was with an old friend and she mentioned Mark to me and I began to cry. I had no idea why, because I wasn't sad. I'm logical, I know it's not my fault but just as you understand the pain of the suffering, I know the pain of the one left behind. I still feel like a 13 year old boy wondering why my friend left me alone.
I'm sorry for the length of this but I had to say something, that I think your words helped me a little bit today.
Holy shit, I'm fucked for getting anything done for the rest of the day! Siffity sniff damn! Gahhh!
Thank you :-)
Posted by: Rob at November 20, 2003 08:15 PMHi Helen,
Forgive my presumption in writing but there were places on your blog where you talked about writing "When You Break" for us that brought tears to my eyes because my gut feeling told me this would be it. To the bones tired, I understand well. Very well. In a partially selfish way I am so glad you did not find rest. You are so open and clear in your writing( gifted too); to not be able to write would deprive the rest of us of treasure. Do you have any idea how many people you touch? How many people find courage from your writing? And lots of enjoyable reading.
Fuck Company X. When I was leaving my Company X, I started out in complete fear and panic with personal failure nagging deep inside. Then suddenly it was as if all environmental problems were solved at once; the sky was bluer, the river clearer and the air fresher as I drove the 3.5 hours to my apartment. thru a beautiful Fall day along the Susquehanna River. (And I’m no environment activist; just believe that every CEO should have to drink from the same water supply as everybody down stream from his/her place of business). If Company X is receding, it is most likely because of clinker brained board members not doing their job half as good as the so-called “redundancies” did theirs. What a horrible turn of phrase and misrepresentation is “redundancies”. If only companies were structured so the so-called “redundancies” could lay off 33% of the clinker brains, more companies would be growing.
You will find more enjoyable work; you’ll be surprised. Good things will come from you and the 1999 other “redundancies” (gah). You will take more chances and risk more now that you are free. Free to go after and accomplish what you only dreamt about before.
And please dust off that partial manuscript; I want to read and enjoy it when it is finished. Could it be a movie script?
-Roger
PS- I don’t care for Mr. Y. A friend of mine remembered his best times in life were when he drove a certain red sports car but had to sell it. When he finally had the cash again he went out and made sure he got the exact same model. He found it had low performance and handling compared to today’s models:-)
ok, i went ahead and posted something on my site a bit more serious...
Posted by: pylorns at November 20, 2003 07:49 PMOf course I don't think differently of you.
I agree with the commenter who said there should be a separate ring of hell reserved for people who judge people who try suicide. I think there should be a ring of hell for people who judge people, period. Everyone has their demons, their struggles, their pain. You aren't weak. You're human.
And yes, you are alive. Jobless (like me and many others), but alive. That company sounded like a sack of shit. Sorry. I think there should be a place in hell reserved for them, for making you feel the way they did.
I have come to love you too, H. You make my days happy just knowing that when I come into work your special words are here waiting for me. Your an incredible person and I feel lucky to have come across your website. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.
Do you think that comments are addictive? I mean, the need to refresh and refresh to see who and how many people have commented. And with that fuel, the desire to write better stems?
Posted by: pylorns at November 20, 2003 07:35 PMH,
Ther's a separate circle in hell for those who judge suicides. Anybody who's ever been so low can only surge forth with love for the man, woman or child who's in so much pain.
I was witness to my mother's last attempt in 1990. Blood everywhere. Pills everywhere. My dad screeching away in the car. Often it's only been the memory of how much it hurt to think of losing her that's kept *me* from dying. Well, that and a lot of prescriptions.
There is no judgement here, only acceptance that yes, sometimes things reallyl *are* that bad. And that you have a very vocal - and from what I can tell, fairly bright - band of supporters here. You are who you are, regardless of employment or partner. Love it and live.
Posted by: Kaetchen at November 20, 2003 07:29 PMHelen,
To open up and write as frankly and honestly as you do is something that takes an awful lot of courage, even in the relative anonymity of the blogosphere. A lot of people find it difficult or impossible to do that (myself included) and so I could never think of you as a weak person because of anything you write on here. I think the number of supportive comments shows that a lot of other people feel the same way.
I'm glad I own a Nokia if that's any consolation.
Posted by: Gareth at November 20, 2003 07:27 PMPulchritude. Had to look that one up. Great word.
I'm with everyone, unless you have taken up with the Puppy Blender, there is very little you could say or do that would curtail whatever support I can offer.
Posted by: Brass at November 20, 2003 07:13 PMJennifer-that's the worst bit about it. It was my mother's birthday, too (and yes, I am burning in hell for cracking on her birhtday like that).
Posted by: Helen at November 20, 2003 06:36 PMDamn. Just damn.
You are alive, love. And if that isn't the biggest "fuck you" to everything that tries to keep you down, then I don't know what is.
Don't let the bastards get ya down.
Posted by: Joey at November 20, 2003 06:32 PMOf course we don't think differently of you, babe. We all love and support you through everything you go through.
I just wish all this terrible stuff hadn't happened to you on my birthday....
Posted by: Jennifer at November 20, 2003 06:30 PM*hugs* and much love your way...
I'd have to say I fall somewhere in between groups one and two, although I've been in group three more than I want to remember. Group three scares the shit out of me, because there is so little energy within ourselves to move away from the hurt.
You're very lucky to have such good friends.
IMHO, depression is something one lives with, every day. Every day, there is a fear of ever feeling that bad again. Every day, one wonders if item X, Y, or Z could make you hurt again. Emotional pain can make you just as cautious as a hot stove.
Personally, I think you're brave for stopping, looking at your life, and living it. And I too, keep my blog as a place for memories. Once I write it down, it's out of me, and yet I can go back to it any time I need to.
You're not weak, Helen. Neither are you invincible. You have many fears, and much pain, and yet you keep on living, albeit with a setback or two. Courage is living despite your fear - and by resolving to move past your setbacks, you’ve become courageous. Perhaps that should be a new tattoo. Is there a kanji for courage? :)
Posted by: Courtney at November 20, 2003 06:21 PMreading your post reminded me that it's three years this month since i went into the hospital for being suicidal. sometimes hitting rock bottom is the best thing you can do. for me, it was a chance to ask for help...a biggie for me.
i'm so glad you have such a great support system. that is so important.
(((hugs and love to you)))
Posted by: kat at November 20, 2003 06:19 PMI could not think less of you because of this post. Rather, I think more of you.
Who among us has never hit rock bottom? Who among us hasn't found themselves in a situation to which there seemed to be no solution. I would go even further and ask if there is anybody out there who hasn't at least thought about suicide if not actually considered it.
The fact that you attempted it at one time doesn't make you a weak person, it just confirms that you are human. Suicide is a bad decision and unfortunately one that a lot of people make.
The great thing about your post, however, is that you can freely admit to it. I've always been astonished by your gritty honesty on this page. It is an honesty that makes you a much stronger, and better, person than I. I could never admit to a suicide attempt or even speak as honestly as you routinely do. You present yourself to the world and challenge them to accept you for who you are.
I could never do that.
Let me tell you something about life. Life is just about being happy. I know that sounds simple and way too schmoopy, but its true. The happiest people I know are simple people. They work small relatively meaningless jobs and are no strangers to the pink slip, yet they have a lust for life. They take vacations, they're not afraid to sing and dance and they speak their minds.
Take joy in the simple things of life. For me, its hot showers. Nothing feels as good to me as fifteen minutes in a steaming hot shower.
I will know leave you with the disturbing mental image of a pasty North Dakotan enjoying his shower just a little too much.
Buck up, kiddo. Life is hard, but its the only game in town.
Posted by: Rob Port at November 20, 2003 06:09 PMThanks, just thanks.
Posted by: zeno at November 20, 2003 05:59 PMHelen, I do not know you personally, but you some how brought a tear to my eye, yet enstilled a bunch of confidence in me with this post, I lost a dear friend in HS to suicide, and the thought that they "took the easy way out" is absolutly insane, he had every thing going for him, but somehow he crumbled under the pressure. You have lived through your toughest time, and it is amazing how strong you are to bounce back. Yes there will be tough times, but you looked death in the eyes and decided to kick him in the balls! Please take my condolances in losing your Job, but you will get another one, you will better off too, if what was said about you is true, who wants to work in that enviroment? You are a smart strong willed woman, keep your head high, I was unemployed for 8 months and lost the woman that I loved, but hell I bounced back, just remember you gots a ton of internet love here baby! MJ is Innocent too!!!!
Posted by: MJ at November 20, 2003 05:33 PMI use one of those scubbing pads for potsand pans to clean my potatoes. It does a pretty good job at actually getting them clean. if you go a little harder enough of the skin will thin out, and you can actually use them for mashing without further peeling. A little slinn in the mash is tasty anyhow.
Posted by: Guinness at November 20, 2003 05:32 PMWow! What a post. You don't need to worry. This post didn't change the way I see you, and I doubt it will anyone else. In a way, I understand how you feel. I didn't lost my job, but I did try to kill myself. It isn't something that I can talk about to anyone. I can't even talk about it with my therapist. I admire you for being able to talk about it on here. Just know that we are all here for you any time of the day, or night! It kills me that I can't do more all the way from TX. I wish I could hop on a plane and come over there and hug you!
Posted by: Ash at November 20, 2003 05:31 PMWomen always seem to end up doing that when I'm around. It's giving me a damned complex!
It was the tongue kiss, wasn't it?
Seriously though...
Keep your chin up (prevents neck wrinkles).
Okay, actually serious now...
Don't be afraid to vent, don't be afraid to reach out and most importantly, never ever be afraid to share. If you lose friends for any of that then you didn't really lose any friends.
Posted by: Jim at November 20, 2003 05:22 PMAw...Jim, you made me cry again (but in a good way).
Posted by: Helen at November 20, 2003 05:02 PMNope. You'll have to try harder than that to get me to think differently about you. Maybe if you confess to torturing puppies or supporting Michael Jackson's lifestyle that would do it.
Here's the thing, Helen. Love is a very special and resilient thing. Whether it's for a parent, sibling, husband/wife/partner or friend doesn't matter (or doesn't to me anyway, but I've been accused of being odd before so this might not strike a nerve with other people). We've never actually met. We've only known each other for a few months. We don't really know each other at all, right?
Bull. Shit. You're my friend and I love you for you. That isn't going to change because of something more that you share about yourself. It could help me understand you better or show insight into aspects of your personality but it's not going to change the elemental fact that you're my friend and that you're in my heart to stay.
I'd send you hugs but you've been getting so many of those lately that you've got to have virtual bruises by now. I'll send you a big sloppy tongue kiss instead. ;-)
Posted by: Jim at November 20, 2003 05:00 PMwow, wonderful post, I'm sorry that you lost your job and that these are tough times, for all of us, but I too am glad you are alive. be strong, lean on others, you deserve it. :0)
Posted by: shortt at November 20, 2003 04:44 PM