An Afterwards...and in the end
In the months leading up to my suicide attempt, I spent a lot of time in churches in Florida and in Ireland as well as on Cape Cod - praying, thinking and writing. Without realizing it, beneath all the words of my prayers and all the words I wrote in my journal towards suicide, somewhere below the surface of my subconscious I was hoping and begging for a miracle - for something miraculous or magical to take place that would change my life for the better and thus prevent the events of May 15, 1994 from taking place. But nothing happened and nothing changed. And on May 15th I sought death willingly and willfully.
But as I laid dying, in a coma and hooked up to life support, my body somehow rejected death and started to restore itself back to life. I survived and there is no medical reason why - simply a miraculous recovery.
I have learned three things from this experience. If on the day I eventually die I am as peaceful as I was on May 15th, I will die a happy death. But more importantly, I discovered that prayers are often answered in unexpected ways and that miracles happen not when we want them but when we truly need them - and for that I shall be forever grateful.
* * * * *
In my journal entry of March 10, 1994, I wrote about a fortune cookie I received with this message: "Nature, time and patience are the three great healers." To which I added, "I doubt it!" My doubts were misplaced. Nature, time and patience are heavenly healers and they did help restore me to better health - and improved my outlook towards life. But they were not enough, much more was required. I need to have a deep desire to get better and the willingness to change - and somehow I found the fortitude and determination to do so. As my life moves forward, the miracle continues.
* * * * *
Years have passed since I wrote the last entry in this journal. After February 17, 1995, my life wasn't entirely filled with hope, happiness and healing. The path of life is seldom smooth or straight, and my journey back to life has not been without its difficulties, detours, doubts, disturbances and diversions. But regardless of which direction I was moving, whether struggling forward or slipping backward and what I encountered along the way, I always kept my goal in sight, always mindful of my intended purpose - to do whatever I could to make my life better.
Although the demons of the past are not completely dead, they are not as dangerous as they once were. I still see my doctors regularly, am still on various medications, have maintained my life-saving sense of humor and have continued my involvement with the Samaritans - helping those who have lost a loved one to suicide.
* * * * *
In her strenuous search and struggle for perfection, Saint Theresa studied nature. And in so doing she discovered that in nature there was perfection - that in nature everything, be it a rose or dandelion, an oak tree or bramble bush, a turtledove or honeybee, achieved perfection by being exactly what God intended it to be. She concluded that what was true true in nature, was also true for us - that to reach perfection, we simply needed to strive to be that person God intended us to be. She recognized that this was not an easy task, but a divine ideal worth pursuing.
My life will be forever defined by the events of May 15, 1994, the before and after. Before May 15th I was never the person God intended me to be. Since then I have been striving to become the person God intended me to be. It has been a difficult journey but a pursuit worthy of all the effort.
* * * * *
In the months that followed the last entry in this journal, during the spring and summer of 1995, three events happened that helped relieve some of my burdens, fears and anxieties. First, I was notified by Social Security that I was eligible for Social Security Disability Insurance - I was to receive a monthly check that more than covered my needs and expenses. I then went to Bankruptcy Court and a judge accepted my petition and freed me from financial obligations - an indebtedness that was far beyond my capability of ever repaying.
Finally, I applied for low-income housing through the Sandwich Housing Authority. They were in the final stages of building a new apartment complex and in early July held a lottery for those there were qualified. My name was chosen and I was given an occupancy date of December 1, 1995.
Although I sincerely appreciative of all the good news I received, as summer turned into autumn my mood darkened and my depression deepened - suicidal thoughts invaded my mind, living became a staggering struggle and life, itself, was a harrowing hardship. I was submerged in a silent, suffocating sorrow - for which there was no outwardly reason nor an apparent reason of any kind. Simply, I had suddenly lost all faith in myself.
I shared these frightening and fragile feelings with my doctors and they both urgently suggested that I be hospitalized - and I agreed. I decided to go to McLean's, a psychiatric hospital in Belmont, which is just a few miles from Boston. The first week I spent in South Belknap II, the same locked ward that Susanna Keysen wrote about in Girl, Interrupted. From the time you woke up until you went to bed, the entire day was structured, organized and supervised - with a couple of free hours per day. I felt at home, safe and secure.
The next two weeks I spent at Appleton House, an open-door residence that allowed patients the flexibility and freedom of choosing how their day attending the various groups and programs offered. There were few rules but they were strictly enforced. To be caught breaking one a patient could be immediately expelled or transferred to a more restrictive residence. The atmosphere and setting gave the feeling of living in a large, comfortable communal home - rather than that of a hospital.
During my stay I had intense therapy, individually and in groups. My time at McLean's was well spent. It was a retreat and a refuge, a retreat from the mental burdens that had bothered me, a refuge from the daily pressures that had encompassed my life. It could almost be described as a vacation from reality - an enriching escape from the existence, an existential excursion.
There are two things I remember most about my stay at McLean's - some words one of my doctors told me and a message written on a blackboard. What the doctor said was this, "Make yourself necessary to someone." The same exact words Doctor Daniels told me on a few occasions. The message I read one morning was this: "Never underestimate the mentally ill. Just because they're sick doesn't mean they're stupid." Reading those words made me realize completely that I had nothing to be ashamed of - I am who I am and it's OK. Although my thoughts, actions and behavior were, at times, irrational, bewildering and ill-conceived, I am neither dim-witted, illiterate nor incompetent. I had an illness that needed to be treated, not a sickness to be scorned. There may have been doubts about my sanity, but I knew I wasn't stupid.
When I was discharged from the hospital on Friday, November 3, 1995, I was rested, relaxed and rejuvenated - and I looked forward to the fact that in a month I would be moving into my new apartment. After leaving the hospital, I spent the weekend alone at the cottage in Sandwich thinking about the words, "make yourself necessary to someone." On Monday morning I called the Sandwich Housing Authority and asked if pets were allowed. I was told only cats were permitted. I was filled with joy and excitement.
Although I sincerely appreciative of all the good news I received, as summer turned into autumn my mood darkened and my depression deepened - suicidal thoughts invaded my mind, living became a staggering struggle and life, itself, was a harrowing hardship. I was submerged in a silent, suffocating sorrow - for which there was no outwardly reason nor an apparent reason of any kind. Simply, I had suddenly lost all faith in myself.
I shared these frightening and fragile feelings with my doctors and they both urgently suggested that I be hospitalized - and I agreed. I decided to go to McLean's, a psychiatric hospital in Belmont, which is just a few miles from Boston. The first week I spent in South Belknap II, the same locked ward that Susanna Keysen wrote about in Girl, Interrupted. From the time you woke up until you went to bed, the entire day was structured, organized and supervised - with a couple of free hours per day. I felt at home, safe and secure.
The next two weeks I spent at Appleton House, an open-door residence that allowed patients the flexibility and freedom of choosing how their day attending the various groups and programs offered. There were few rules but they were strictly enforced. To be caught breaking one a patient could be immediately expelled or transferred to a more restrictive residence. The atmosphere and setting gave the feeling of living in a large, comfortable communal home - rather than that of a hospital.
During my stay I had intense therapy, individually and in groups. My time at McLean's was well spent. It was a retreat and a refuge, a retreat from the mental burdens that had bothered me, a refuge from the daily pressures that had encompassed my life. It could almost be described as a vacation from reality - an enriching escape from the existence, an existential excursion.
There are two things I remember most about my stay at McLean's - some words one of my doctors told me and a message written on a blackboard. What the doctor said was this, "Make yourself necessary to someone." The same exact words Doctor Daniels told me on a few occasions. The message I read one morning was this: "Never underestimate the mentally ill. Just because they're sick doesn't mean they're stupid." Reading those words made me realize completely that I had nothing to be ashamed of - I am who I am and it's OK. Although my thoughts, actions and behavior were, at times, irrational, bewildering and ill-conceived, I am neither dim-witted, illiterate nor incompetent. I had an illness that needed to be treated, not a sickness to be scorned. There may have been doubts about my sanity, but I knew I wasn't stupid.
When I was discharged from the hospital on Friday, November 3, 1995, I was rested, relaxed and rejuvenated - and I looked forward to the fact that in a month I would be moving into my new apartment. After leaving the hospital, I spent the weekend alone at the cottage in Sandwich thinking about the words, "make yourself necessary to someone." On Monday morning I called the Sandwich Housing Authority and asked if pets were allowed. I was told only cats were permitted. I was filled with joy and excitement.
* * * * *
On Wednesday, November 8th, I made myself necessary to someone. I went to the MSPCA in Centerville and as I walked through the room that housed the abandoned cats and kittens, I noticed a large cage with three, small female kittens that were just six weeks old. A written sign on top of the cage referred to them as The Supremes. Two of the kittens were in front vying for my attention, the other kitten was in the back corner of the cage curled in a ball, sound asleep. I asked the attendant if I could see the kitten in the back. When she handed me the sleepy, shy kitten, I said, "She's my new Yoyo."
After filling out the necessary papers, signing a contract to have the kitten spayed and writing out a check for payment, the attendant handed me a large cardboard carrying case with Yoyo inside. When I got to my car I took Yoyo out of the case and held her. She was so small she fit in the palm of my hand. I then put her in my coat pocket and got into my car. And as I drove home that afternoon, I carried with me, in my pocket, a small bundle of hope - and she has been my bundle of hope ever since.
And making myself necessary to someone.
"For the heart cries that which deception wins,
Cruelty must keep; therefore be warned and go."
William butler Yeats
* * * * *
This afterwards was written sometime in late 2001 or early 2002.
I will be continuing writing this blog with articles I have written of the years on suicide and the sadness of suicide that were published in the Cape cod Times.
Email me with your thoughts - fortheheartcries@gmail.com
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