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anniversary of my suicide surivival

It is the anniversary of my almost-death. That day where the pain literally almost won.

This is obviously a big deal to me. I think about where I was then and where I am now. But this year I think back to then and the impact of others. Actually shortly after my survival I worried about how I had worried or hurt others, more so than concern over myself. And later it was because of the hurt I had caused to others that encouraged me to continue on. 

Yet, I know it was a traumatic thing for me. Something that echoes on. Affected me greatly for a year and then I never seemed to find my core stability after.  But what about my family? How did having me do something like that affect them, short term and long term? I can't say with my spouse. He is very uncomfortable with the topic. He was always aware of how much pain I was in, but just never knew my desperation could reach that level, that I would go so far. And he never wanted to me return to work, especially not that work place and was pissed when they sent me back. Because he is terrified it could happen again. I know some of this because he says things and others I infer from the fact he would rather pretend it didn't happen, because that way he doesn't have to think of this possibility it happening again. I told him the act itself, was one of frantic, desperate pain... blinding pain. But having had it happen and surviving it was a good thing because it makes him and my family and other aware of the level of suffering I was enduring. Because my personality type is to not talk about all that, to work through it one my own and just push through it.  So the the act literally forced into the open what I was feeling on the inside as well as the magnitude of the pain.

My mom and I at least had a chance to talk some on the trip she took me for. And she gave me that down time and space I really needed. She was there for me in the moment and I will always love her for that.

I worried how my bother reacted to it all being as he was the one who found me and brought me to the hospital. I worried because I think that is a horrible thing to have done to him. To have had to see me like that, to know what I had done to myself and to get me to the hospital. I don't remember it all clearly because I was so drugged up on sleeping pills. Makes it hazy in my mind. I did talk to him recently and he said when he saw me he had never been so angry in his life at what I had done. I'm glad I know how he felt. It is a true emotion. A true reaction to seeing such a thing and realizing the truth of it. I'm glad he told me about it because I need to know the consequences of my actions on other people. He also told me he had never gone to sleep that night. Normally he would have been sound asleep because it was very late.  But he hadn't gone to sleep at all for some reason and so he was still up. Then he felt like having a snack and wandered up stairs where he found a bloody knife and in the bathroom more blood... which is why he then interrupted me in my office. I never knew that. And I guess I ought to be really thankful he chose that one night to stay up really late playing a video game.  I get the anger though because anger comes when you think someone has done something insanely stupid.  But in my case it wasn't like that. It was... There is a point when pain consumes you reasoning abilities, and you are desperate for relief that isn't there, you are tired but cannot sleep, you have to work but know you can't, you know you can't continue like you are forever. You are perfectly aware you are going to cause others pain, but after they grieve they will move on. You just want yours to finally end. It is not a stupid act, it is a desperate over thinking act saturated in pain.

And yet because of it and only because it that is why I am in therapy now. I'm not fond of therapy as a rule. But repressing my pain and repressing the emotional distress pain causes is a Bad idea in the long term. I get that my emotional stability stems from the pain, and that the pain is a constant factor. I don't want to be stuck in the same position, the same scenario again and have the same thing happen. I can learn from a profoundly traumatic experience and try everything I can think of to prevent it from happening again.  But I still hate my brother had to see me like that and will remember it. And I hate that my bf had that scare that worries him all the time now, but he can't talk about it because that would make it 'real' and 'possible'.
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