This is the story of the year before I committed suicide. Yes, I said it. It is my intent, that at the end of 2017, that I will no longer be of this world. Some would call it selfish, for leaving my family and friends to deal with the burden of my death and the grief that will follow. And maybe I am being selfish. Or maybe, I have reached the end of my rope. Maybe, it's been a long time coming and I've now just finally had the courage to do what I should have done years ago.
My family holds onto the old school beliefs about mental illness. There, I said it. Finally. I have a mental illness, and while I am not sure what it is, I know it's there. I live with it every day and have for as long as I can remember. But in my family, we never talk/talked about those things. I was raised to suck it up, that someone always had it worse than you and to fake your happiness. I've been doing it so long that I am a master at it, hell, hand me my Oscar now!
This isn't the first time I have thought about killing myself. The first time happened when I was in high school and wrote a story about it. My teacher called my mother, concerned, of course. Her response was to lay out a knife, rope and pills; then she proceeded to tell me that if I wanted to do it, she'd help me. And that I should remember, she'd only think about me immediately after my death and on my birthday, but after that, I'd fade to a distant memory because she had my father and grandparents to take care of and finish raising my little brother. I think I lived then out of spite. I am still living out of spite. No one likes being told they won't be remembered. It's why we live and why we procreate....to live on.
And I have procreated. I have a son who is now 19. He's in college. He is my legacy. And I know he will blame himself for this, but it's not his fault. No. He's the most perfect thing I've ever done in my life. And in him, I will live on. And I kept my demons at bay for him. Because that what a mother does. She hides it all away so that her children will have only the good and not the bad when the memories come.
It's my fault. No one else's. I guess I wasn't strong enough or I didn't have the skills to cope. But this is my story and I will write my ending. This upcoming year will be amazing. Things are already set in motion. I will be going on a once in a lifetime trip with my best friend. I will be knocking things off my bucket list that are within my means to do. And when it's all said and done, I will have lived more in this ONE year than I have in an entire lifetime.
