There I sat in the bath tub with a loaded shotgun to my chest. A towel over the top of the end of the barrel. The hammer pulled back and my toe on the trigger. I had chosen a shotgun knowing that a 22 might only injure me.
All I remember was it was so hot. I had a few drinks earlier for some false courage. I called my husband as I did everyday around lunch time to tell him I loved him. All I needed to do was pull that trigger as I begged God to forgive me.
Earlier in the week I had taken a bottle of pills and went to bed that night. I sent my husband an email earlier apologizing. I knew I was going to hurt him but felt he would be much better off. Funny how you can love so much and feel that way.
The next day after work he came home assuming I was just napping as I usually did. He checked his email. Next thing I knew he was flying in the doorway yelling “What did you do?” I do not know how I woke up. I do not know why I survived. I could not make him understand. At that point I couldn’t understand.
The feeling of worthlessness was awful. I just never fit in anywhere. I never fit into this world. I cried all the time uncontrollably. It was humiliating not to have control of my emotions. When I cried my husband was beside himself not knowing what to do. He’d ask what was wrong and all I could tell him was I did not know.
I finally came to the point where I did not want to feel all this jumble going on in my head. I was so tired. I was so physically and mentally tired. I had to turn it off but no one could understand there.
As I laid in that tub I even considered calling the police so they could get there before my husband came into the mess. I kept dosing on and off. How I did not fire that gun, I’ll never know. It was so hot. I just wanted to get this done but I couldn’t get up the nerve.
One time I dozed off to wake up and hear the front door open. I knew it was my husband and quickly took my toe off the trigger. As he passed the bathroom he looked in seeing the shower curtain half pulled, my feet and the gun. I heard his shaky voice yelling “Oh my God!” He ran in and quickly took the gun. He pulled me from the tub holding me. I cried so hard. I wanted to complete this. I wanted to finish this for good.
He begged and begged me to get help. Go somewhere and get help. I just kept telling him I did not want to feel. I wanted to die…
He asked if he could call my daughter.. I said yes and he did. We did not always have the greatest relationship so she was warned about her behavior. No yelling.
She came up and we talked. I kept dozing on and off. I kept telling her I knew if I went down they’d put me in the loony bin. I did not want to go there. I just didn’t want to feel.. I just wanted everyone to leave me alone.
Finally, they talked me into going. My daughter left with me ahead of my husband. At the time I did not realize he was removing all the guns from the house. She and I went to the hospital and entered the Crisis unit.
There was so much going on around me. I didn’t want this. So many questions. Blood work and urine tests. Everyone visiting and asking the same questions with the final question: “Would I sign myself in?”