Thoughts on.....Me, Pt.2

Part Two

In November, I joined Facebook, and reconnected with a lot of old friends from back home. It was nice to catch up with people I had not seen in 40 years, find out they had married, had exciting careers, children, grandchildren. It gave me hope and comfort to know that people I cared for had such blessings. Unfortunately, some of my old friends were not so blessed, and had suffered hardship and disappointment in their lives. My wish for them was to find comfort and security.

Christmas came and went, and it was very hard, the first Christmas without Eve, the first without our special Christmas Eve dinner. The next week was New Years,' and again the loss of our special traditions. I  dreaded the 21st, that terrible anniversary, and then the next ten days, finally reaching the 31st, the day I lost her the year before. It was shortly after, I would find myself crying uncontrollably, while watching the Winter Olympics. It didn't matter if the story was happy or sad, it affected me. I had a visit to my cardiologist soon after, and told him of my continual sadness, and my inability to function, and could he give me something, something mild, something that would just help me cope. He prescribed Zoloft.

WOW!  When you watch their commercials, and hear the disclaimer, Zoloft should not be taken by those with thoughts of suicide, they aren't kidding. Hide the knives, and empty the guns! Yeah, I had thoughts of suicide, if by thinking about suicide 10-12 times a day, constitutes thoughts of suicide. I thought about it, a lot, but deep down I don't think I was ready to accept it. I kind of adopted a saying, Suicide is not a viable option, which is not only a good saying to adopt, but is humorously ironic if you speak French. But the Zoloft changed all that. It takes away all inhibitions, suddenly suicide is a viable option. All the checks and balances I had created, were gone, all the safety protocols were turned off. "Computer, begin self-destruct sequence, now."  The sixty second count-down began.

An insidious effect of Zoloft, is you just don't care. I know I should be cleaning the house. I just don't care. I know I should be eating better. I just don't care. I know I should be brushing my teeth, taking a shower. I just don't care. When I began taking it, I was sad, and I expected that it would make me, less sad. It didn't, and if anything, it made me sadder to realize that fact. I just didn't care. Once this feeling permeated my daily thought process, I was a little scared, afraid of what I might do, but again, I just didn't care. More and more, I felt myself drawn to take that path.

I woke every morning, and would sense a finger, beckoning me, motioning me, to take that path. And everyday I had to make a conscious effort, to find a reason, a reason why I shouldn't die that day. It didn't matter what the reason was, any simple, stupid reason would do. I need to get gas in the car, I need to watch the ballgame, I need to paint a model, I need to do anything that was achievable. If I could do that, then I would survive the day, and I could think about tomorrow, tomorrow.

I danced that dance everyday for what seemed like ages. In February, I thought I would be dead by Tax Day, from there, I didn't expect to see Memorial Day, and July 4th came as a complete surprise. This whole time I felt I should be dead, I was planning on being dead. But just as it doesn't care if you're alive, the Zoloft doesn't care if you're dead, either. Oh, sure, it tells you, you're going to die. It just doesn't have to be today. So, I continued the dance.

I took it for about a year and a half, until I realized, it had never done what I began taking it for in the first place, to ease the painful sadness. I no longer cried unexpectedly, but I still was as sad as ever. And I certainly didn't need the added complication of thoughts of death. So one day, I just stopped, stopped taking the little pill,  and after a few days, its effects and influence were gone. That was when I made a terrible discovery. For, while the Zoloft allowed me to contemplate my own demise with callous dispassion, it also removed any urgency to actually do anything about it. It was an equation that zeroed itself out. It allowed me to be consumed with my own death, but would never have allowed me to act on it. I had been mistaken, the Zoloft had not removed the safety protocols, it had set them in place, even while it tortured me with dark thoughts. Now they were off, and the daily dance began in earnest.

I suppose I could have resumed taking the Zoloft, but I didn't like the way it made me feel, hadn't for a long time. I had never wanted to not care, I did want  to care about people and things. I just didn't want the caring to paralyze me with sadness. And since it never really removed the sadness, I never went back to taking it. But I had been thinking about death daily, for eighteen months, and just not taking a pill would not change that. No, I continued to think about it, and I did the dance, and I felt the finger beckon, and one day, I looked down, and discovered my feet at the beginning of that path.

Now began the scariest time of all. It wasn't I wanted to die, I just felt that was the way I had to go, there was no other choice, there was no other way out. And slowly, I felt myself drawn down that path. Until one day, when I found myself at the edge, standing on the precipice, looking down into the abyss, staring at the darkness. I knew what that darkness was, and I didn't want to look at it, but the darkness is a seductress, and she held open her arms, and smiled at me. Let me take away the pain, the sadness, the loneliness. Leave all your cares, embrace me. Just one more step, be with me. Be free, love me. Everyday, I looked in her face, and everyday, I managed to take a step back. But I was not able to turn around, and everyday, I looked in her face, and everyday, it was harder to take a step back. Everyday, I looked in her face, and everyday, I looked longer. And everyday, she said, one more step, just one more step, until the day I felt my knee bend, my heel lift, and I started to lean forward, towards the comfort of death.

I'm not sure what it was I suddenly felt, a slap, a yank, a shout, and I was no longer looking into the darkness, but into my own hands, as they cradled my face, and I was weeping. Weeping bitter tears, bitter in the realization of how foolish I had been, how much time I had wasted, how I almost threw myself away. And in the bitter tears, I finally knew, knew I could not do this by myself, knew I would need help. That is when it really struck me, I didn't know how to ask for help. I had always been the one to give help, it was a part of my jobs for 40 years. I imagine over the years I have been offered help, and never took it, because I didn't recognize it. Or when I did recognize it, was too uncomfortable to accept. Somehow, I had conditioned myself to believe if I asked for help, or accepted help, I was a failure. So, it was to the sound of my sobbing that my sister, Kristi, answered her phone, and heard me pleading for help, that I didn't want to die, that I wanted to live. To be honest, I don't know if that is what she heard, I don't know if I was intelligible at all, but she could hear I needed help, and was soon by my side.

She calmed me, finally, and I was breathing normally, mostly. We discussed ways for me to seek help, and picked a course of action, and she helped me with the initial process. We set in motion some procedures that would have to be followed in a specific order, and in a non-specific time. That was what I wanted, a schedule to follow, a plan to adhere to, an order back in my like. I like order, and I felt there a path for me to follow. Kristi helped me with that first step, turning me around, away from the darkness, making me take a few steps, towards the light. That way was not exactly clear to me, but I saw it was towards the light, and I knew that is where I wanted to go. Kristi has always looked on me as her protector, but she is really mine, and I love her so much for what she has done.


Please continue with Part Three.   Don