Shoot Me Now
I’m used to January being a bittersweet month and I’ve come to expect February’s to hold some sort of devastation. However, February 2012 takes the cake, and that is no small feat considering Februarys past.
Within three weeks of Pawpa getting sick, he was gone; poof, just like that. We had little time to wrap our minds around his ultimate fate, much less accept it. Once hospice took over his care I knew it was just a matter of time, but I still hoped like hell that he would beat the odds. I tried to be there for him as much as I could in his last few weeks. How could I not? He was my Pawpa and I wanted to make sure that he knew how much I loved him. When I felt his last heartbeats and realized that he was gone, I wanted nothing more than to curl up next to him and take my last breaths as well.
He was one of the few people I’ve known who truly loved me unconditionally. He was the father that mine refused to be. He wiped my tears, he made me laugh, he annoyed me, he teased me, he was always there for me and he made me feel like I mattered. He would’ve done anything for me. I regret that I didn’t appreciate him more and that I didn’t spend more time with him.
I know he wouldn’t want me to give up and let the depression overcome me, but I can’t help it. I feel like I’m losing everyone and without those I love life doesn’t mean anything to me. The fear and grief are drowning everything else out and my life has gone to shit.
My job fired me for missing six shifts while Pawpa was dying. I fought to get it back but lost. I found out Thursday night that I also lost my unemployment claim and I only have a few days left to appeal the decision. I also ended things with Sugarbear that night. And to top it all off, I’m broke and about to lose my apartment.
Everything I try to stop my life from spinning out of control so I can regain my footing fails. I’ve thought about killing myself many times over the past month. It switched from thought to plan Thursday night, but it didn’t work.
I planned on getting drunk, and then either severing a few arteries or overdosing on my blood pressure and diabetes medicine. I went to the liquor store and got the biggest cheap bottle of rum I could find and came home and started making preparations. I grabbed all the Metformin, Ambien, and Lopressor I could find and lined the bottles up on my night stand, along with a new box of razor blades. One way or another I wanted to make sure I didn’t survive.
I had a couple of shots and then my new roomie (some guy who answered my ad on craigslist) got home. He could tell I was upset and he did make an effort to get me to open up, but I couldn’t. I didn’t want to pour out my dark thoughts on this perfect stranger.
He watched me slam shot after shot. He gave me a Xanax bar to settle my nerves and I took the whole thing. Shortly afterwards, I blacked out. Apparently, I semi-reached out to Dan and Shawna while I was blacked out. (Shawna and I made up the afternoon before Pawpa passed away.) Then my roomie put me to bed. I woke up the next morning and realized I didn’t even attempt my plan. I was pissed off at myself for missing the opportunity.
I decided to talk to Tori about most of what was going on and she wanted to come over and cheer me up. I picked her up and she bought jager. We got drunk and invited Dan and Candace over. We both ended up pouring our hearts out that night. We cried and laughed and then cried some more.
The next day, Tori took me shopping and bought me a new dress and some fabulous shoes. Then we went to Granny’s. Several other family members showed up and we had a cookout. Tori and I didn’t leave until after 8:30pm. Then we went to her dad’s because his roomie offered to pay me to help him with his Chemistry homework.
When I woke up this morning I felt somewhat hopeful because I had a prescreening employment test. I passed and was told they would be calling me back for a face to face interview. Afterwards I had to rush to my doctor’s appointment.
I realized after what almost happened Thursday night that I needed to have my anti-depressant increased. I also wanted to talk to her about giving me a doctor’s note since apparently the unemployment office didn’t care that I had FMLA. I hope that they will accept a note from her that I was incapable of doing my job during the two weeks before Pawpa passed away and approve my appeal. I know it’s a hail mary, but it’s my only other option for money right now. I’m trying to find a job, but I’m still also fighting grief, depression, and suicidal ideations.
I told her about what I planned to do Thursday and she asked me if I would consider going inpatient. I told her I can’t right now. I would definitely lose my apartment and everything if I take time to go back into the hospital, besides without insurance I wouldn’t be able to go back to Brookhaven. I would be sent to the state-run hospital and I’d rather die than go there. I left out that part though. Since I wasn’t suicidal at that moment, she couldn’t legally have me involuntarily committed. She said she will write me something after she reviews my FMLA documentation and the rest of my case and it should be ready tomorrow.
After my doctor’s appointment, I received a call from a head hunter who found my résumé online. He offered me an interview with a well-known and well-respected insurance company as a customer service representative. I accepted the interview for this Thursday.
After I got home, I was in decent spirits, until I started thinking about what is going to happen if I lose the appeal, and don’t get a job soon. Then I started missing Sugarbear and regretting severing ties with him. And then I started thinking about what had really been hurting me all day… remembering that Pawpa died a month ago today.
Suicidal thoughts have danced in my head since. I can’t sleep. I don’t want to reach out for help. So I write and write and write… hoping this feeling will pass soon or that the courage to just finally get it over with will take over.
About BipolarChick (599 posts)
I’m a thirty-something bipolar woman, an advanced tech agent with a pay tv provider, tax preparer for a local charity, current Tulsa inhabitant, and I’m one credit shy of an Associate Degree in Liberal Arts. I’m working on recovery from self-injury and working toward stabilizing my bipolar symptoms. Recovery is very important to me. I’ve been mostly single the past few years and plagued by a seemingly never-ending series of jackasses, assholes, and married men. I have no children of my own, but I have lots of nieces and nephews I love to spoil.