MAJOR BIG TIME TRIGGER------TRIGGER




My only reason to live right now is five hundred miles away and I'm sorry to say they're not my folks, but Doug, a high school philosophy teacher.

He literally saved my life tonight when I phoned him and told him what I was going to do to myself. I told him I was going to reap the reward I so richly deserved in life, for everything I had done to my parents as a child. (I was sent away to a psych institution when I was seven by my folks. I lived there for nearly two years.) I've always felt myself to be a freak and a bad person for it and tried to figure out why I was sent there. The psychs at one hospital think it was simply because I was a handful and my parents couldn't handle me,but the depressed mind can dream up some pretty warped reasons. And even though I've suffered unbelievably and am suffering now (I'm on morphine just to sit up), I feel no punishment can right the wrongs I have done towards my parents; parents who screamed at me and professed their disappointment in me, constantly and who are telling me to pull myself up by my bootstraps and get on with life and stop blaming the doctors who screwed up on me. They would feel pretty free to blame me if I died, wouldn't they? It would be just another tragedy inflicted on them in their long tragic lives and it was always my fault.

I feel so guilty over it all, I'm seriously thinking of ending it all in ernest. Doug talked to me, dear sweet man and his words were so healing. He said I deserved to be loved and that I was a gift to my parents. He talked me down with gentleness and love, but now the depression is creeping back in. The darkness is returning. Doug is the one of the few reasons I would want to stay on this Earth, but the depression is making that very, very, very hard.

Should I get another suicidal urge, I will not be calling 911, because then they will haul me away on a stretcher (they have to, I'm in a wheelchair) and being in a hospital messes with my mind. Because of multiple surgeries, I now think of them as dangerous places where people go to get massively hurt. And I hide my fear fairly well. They aren't laying a finger on me, and a crisis line has a direct line to the ambulance, so they're out too.

My shrink said "Get into trouble-call 911." Well what if I don't? Then what's he gonna do? Pray for my soul probably. It's not enough that I'm paralyzed by this, I have to prop him up too. There's a competant shrink out there with expertise to solve all my problems...in the hospital. I was hoping to spare myself weekly trips into H*ll. My life is H*ll right now, even though the morphine is WORKING. I don't want those...people anywhere near me...anyone in a white coat, medical, psychiatric or otherwise. One side destroys me physically. The other bunch takes me away from my mom and dad for a year and a half and does who knows what...I know they force fed me at one point. All with my parents' blessing.

I'm a screwed up freak who doesn't deserve to live. So I know of one very compelling reason to die. My parents didn't love me (I don't blame them). Why should anyone else? That's another. I'm a burden on society eating up valuable resources...number 3. I will remain psychologically screwed up until I die, number 4. My medical future looks no better than the psychological. number 5. I did something horrid as a seven year old and ought to be put to death, number 6.

There is a thing more crippling than cerebral palsy: the prison of your own mind.