A man jumped off a bridge today. While most people were complaining about the traffic; I am sitting here thinking about the mystery man who was in so much pain that continuing life was not worth it anymore. I suppose people are so absorbed in their own frustrations they have no space to consider someone outside of themselves. I can understand the agony of sitting in parking-lot type traffic on a highway. Living where I do it is nearly a daily occurrence, more than nearly actually. I think it is the pain of trying to get to work that has numbed people’s sensibilities.
On a certain level I can also understand that man’s desperation, whatever it may have been, to have peace. I survived my suicidal thoughts. I tried but if I honestly really wanted to I would have tried harder. Knowing how that feels I cannot imagine being at that point of no return. People think that you can go to the edge and come back with a little coaxing and a trip to the psychiatrist. I am beginning to believe that for those that can be coaxed their mind wasn’t really made up. Instead they are putting out a big cry for help in the hopes that someone is listening. I do not know for sure as I am not trained in that particular field. I am speaking from pure experience.
For me there were many times, perhaps daily, that I questioned the point of living if life was going to be constantly a struggle. Why go on if all you have to look forward to is a day of not being talked down upon. What is the point if at any moment you will beaten with whatever the fuck is closest to grab because you look at him the wrong way, or you dropped a pair of fucking underwear on the germy filled floor because you went one day without fucking mopping, or you were just breathing. I’ve put an entire bottle of pills in my mouth. I sat there on the kitchen floor willing myself to swallow. I gagged them all out. I told myself to hold on this can’t last that much longer. One day you will look back on this and it will just be a bad nightmare. Something’s got to fucking give. Why in the hell should he get off so easy?
Some more months go by same shit different day different part of my body to hide from the world. Every other week I learn new ways to sit on the bus to accommodate new bruises so that it doesn’t hurt too fucking bad with every bump or hard stop. Bend this way not that way and try not to forget to keep a smile plastered on my face. While at work I try my best to act like nothing is wrong because I need the job he hates that brings in all my money he keeps. Pop tarts for lunch again because I found some loose change in the couch seats. Lucky me. What is the point? I think to myself I should have swallowed those pills. Instead I cut myself repeatedly with a plastic knife along my shoulder because why the fuck not. Why the plastic knife? Well I threw out all the real ones when he had me pinned against a wall with a knife at my throat threatening to kill me.
Years continue to pass and quickly my mind is unraveling. There’s a riff. I can’t take much more. He monitors my every living moment. Who I talk too, how long it takes me to do something, where I go, what I fucking eat! He has my passwords my emails and social media. He reads what I write and talks to people pretending to be me to pry information on things that I may have told them. He deletes friends on my Facebook, emails my professors, threatened to email my boss, numerous times, saying he would pretend to be me and quit my job. One time I had the audacity to reach for my phone and I was punched in the head so hard I fell to the floor and couldn’t move. He plotted how he can make it look like my fault if I died. Calling 911 was not part of the plan. I couldn’t move but I could still hear him.
An abuser will make you feel helpless, isolated, and scared every waking minute of your life. My last attempt was jumping out of a moving car. My mind just turned off and the world tuned out. I couldn’t sit in that vehicle one more dam minute being screamed at. I needed quiet. I needed peace. Clearly I wasn’t going to get it anytime soon. So I pulled the handle and let myself fall. The car wasn’t driving very fast at the moment so I think my brain was somewhat protecting me. I fell out while he was slowing down on the highway. I was still hurt but I was alive. I’m glad now to be alive. Although, every now and then I get that “I wish I wasn’t born” feeling, I push it out of my mind, usually with a nap.
I fought through it and survived everything life threw at me for twelve long ass years. Unfortunately for that man he couldn’t pull himself out of it. I have no idea what was going on in his life but it had to be pretty terrible to commit to suicide. There was no hanging off the side of the bridge waiting to be rescued, like the last guy climbed over the side, because he didn’t really want to do it. He jumped. That is a terrifying and scary thought. To be that far gone. My heart hurts for him and I pray he is at peace.
If you or someone you know needs help reach out to the
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline