Cheating death
I want to talk about suicide today….I just read from a dear fren’s blog that his fren’s sister committed suicide, despite the fact that her future looked bright and hopeful, and about to graduate from her MBA.
As a fellow suicide-attemptee, I understand the bleakness, the compellingness to do away with yourself, despite seemingly bright futures.
Yes, I’ve attempted suicide before. But failed.
I had an ex-colleague who also attempted suicide but failed. When he came to work with a bandaged wrist, I knew. But it was weird because before he came to work like that, I already felt some uneasiness, when I thought about him the past few days. Perhaps that’s what they call kindred spirits. No matter where they are, you can sense when something’s not quite right.
I also knew of a gurl who committed suicide, just one month before she was about to migrate to Australia. She was an intelligent gurl, pretty, warm, friendly and just an all-round beautiful person.
A fren’s fren committed suicide on the first anniversary of the September 11 incident.
A beautiful fren wanted to commit suicide when his lover passed away, but didn’t because of filial piety towards his mother.
When two close frens broke up two years ago, one almost got knocked down by a car, because he was hurt, in a daze, and oh-so-bitter. The thing was, he was hoping to be knocked down, and just stood there letting Fate take a pot shot.
I can’t exactly remember the first time I wanted to commit suicide. Perhaps… when I was a kid back in Ipoh. But back then, which kid understood suicide? My only thought was to ‘go away’. Later in high school, you get to learn more about these things. Like wrists cuts, washing detergent, bleach, coke and aspirin, whole bottle aspirin and gas in an airtight house. (the things you learn in high school!)
When I was in Singapore, I really considered suicide. I lived on the 5th floor. All HDB flats in Singapore have a void deck. I used to look down and wonder, if I fell, would I hit the cement headfirst and die instantly? Or would I just crash the body and become paralysed, or hit my head and become a vegetable? Or would I instead miscalculate the distance and fall on the trees and thump heavily on the ground and become a vegetable?
Then I would look at the bleach that my mom kept under the sink. Would it be more painful to drink detergent? Would I foam in the mouth? Would my stomach burn and I suffer through the pain as the solvent does its work inside? Would I be conscious throughout the whole event? Is it going to be very painful?
In the end, I didn’t do it because I didn’t have the guts. And I didn’t want pain. But I nearly ran away from home for the third time.
In college, I discovered a wonderful painless way to die.
Air-con car.
You read about it in books and the newspapers sometimes. And I used to marvel at the painless and peaceful way of ‘going’.
I know, I’m sick.
But when you are really down in the pits, you really, really want to go.
I’ve had a month’s worth of misery at home. I tried everything I could to make things right. But no matter what I did, she refused to meet me anywhere to make things right. I had cried the whole night and couldn’t take it anymore. I was physically tired, mentally tired, psychologically tired and spiritually tired. Nothing seemed right. Nothing could make it right. Even God seemed to have abandoned me.
I had driven to college. It was 7am. No one was at the college yet. And I sat there in the car, eyes swollen, and oh-so-tired. I didn’t want to go on anymore. I parked at a secluded area. Locked all the doors, turned the radio up, left the engine running. I reclined the chair and closed my eyes. I was so tired, weary at heart. I knew I would sleep within minutes.
And so I drifted off. I recall the music seemed to come from a distance. Like you know that you were walking away from the center. It was very very relaxing, very peaceful. Like you know you were going someplace nicer.
I’ll never know what jerked me awake. Suddenly my eyes sprang open. I no longer felt the weariness. My eyes were still swollen, but I no longer felt so numb. In fact, I felt calmer, and fresher. I was so wide awake that I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep and do it again.
The one thing going through my mind was, “Oh. Tak jadi ah?” (Oh. It didn’t work?)
And in a semi-daze, I saw myself turning the engine off, very calm. And I saw myself walking towards the college, like a robot.
I’d like to think that ‘someone’ stopped me. All my life, I’ve always wondered where my guardian angel was. Why did it let me suffer? Why did it not help me when I had trouble with my mom? Why did it not give me courage to face my mom? Why did it not appear when I needed it?
The second time I attempted was early this year. I stopped because I thought of my father. Strange, isn’t it? When I have not previously shown any obvious indications that he mattered a lot.
So, while I am grateful for being alive today, I still harbour the notion that it takes a brave person to actually commit suicide and I do understand why they do it.
And I want those who have been lucky enough to not succeed, I can only say that there are reasons for being alive. Be it family, frens, or an objective. I can only hope that I am one of those reasons as well. For I’ve been there.
:Writing this specially with warm fuzzy thoughts for Jung and Wanderer. :
posted by Jennirhiow @ 1:05 pm
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