Posted by Gracie2 on January 1, 2003, at 17:44:11
In reply to Re: suicide check..., posted by Alii on January 1, 2003, at 5:23:52
Yep, I really do. Same thing happened to me, or close enough. Not so long ago, drunk and in absolute dispair, I called the operator at 4:00 am
and asked her for the number to a suicide hotline.
Evidently following instructions, she started to ask me questions instead. Had I taken pills, or harmed myself, or hurt anyone else? No. Was I thinking about killing myself right that minute?
Did I plan to kill myself in a specific way? No.Then she asked me, "If you did decide to kill yourself, how would you do it?" I was surprised by her question and blurted out the worst possible answer: "Well, we have guns all over the house." Then she started asking me things like,
were the guns locked away (yes), did I know where the keys were (yes), did we have ammunition (yes),
did I know how to load a gun (yes).Then I heard feet pounding up the porch stairs and someone started to hammer on the door. I was horrified. The dogs started barking, my husband woke up, my son woke up, there were two police cars and a fire rescue crew waiting outside, flashing red lights everywhere, neighbors peeking out the door.
Could it be worse? Oh, sure it can. My husband is a fireman and knows the EMT guys. Now everyone in the city fire department knows that he's married to a lunatic. I said to the police officer, "Is there any way that we can just forget about this?"
The cop says sorry, no, and asks if I still have a gun. I tell him that I don't have a gun, that all the guns in the house are legally owned by my husband and registered in his name. I said, "Please don't take the guns because my husband will kill me slowly if you do."So they didn't take the guns, but they wouldn't let me go either. They brought me to the hospital to be committed, and by accident or design I ended up in the psychiatric ward for seriously deranged and violent patients. All around me people are crying, yelling, drooling, cursing. People shuffling back and forth, drugged into oblivion. People tied to their beds.
Can it get any worse? Oh, you bet. If I want to have a job when I get out of this place, I have to call work, have to call in sick. What the hell do I tell them? I can't say I'm at home, the phone is in the hallway and people are screaming.
I can't ask my husband to call for me, I don't know where he is. They won't let me see anyone. But I also can't just not show up for work. I have a steady job, insurance, a profit-sharing plan. I need that stuff. So, finally, I pick up the phone and call work. I have to shout into the phone to be heard. I'm in the hospital, I'm alright, but I don't know how long it will be before I can return to work. I can't tell you what happened, I'll tell you later. I know, I know, it sounds like someone is being tortured.
It's just a sick person, a very sick person. I'll call back when I can tell you more.I'm humiliated, hung over, and scared to death. I slide down the wall, curl up into a ball, cover my ears and start crying.
So, Alii, I know just how you feel. Mental illness, what fun. I understand why you're angry with your friend, but your friend had a thought in her mind: If Alii is dead in the morning, it will be my fault because I didn't try to stop it, I didn't try to help.
Over time you may be able to forgive. To err is human, to forgive is divine.
-Gracie
poster:Gracie2
thread:34319
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20021226/msgs/34345.html