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Post EMDR
No thought of a person who came to my house uninvited. This divine timing on the afternoon of April 7 2008 when my noose was ready to be hung the following day. Happens as I was writing my final suicide note and the 33rd in that year & a half. This time I was researched, equipped, had the equipment and the resources. Nothing was stopping my longing to hurl myself into the abyss.
I had the entire playlist for my funeral set out and was burning it onto a CD in the study when he knocked, in his hand one single red rose, a CD & a book as a gift.
My mother, answered and I refused to talk to him, as he had become my favourite enemy at work. Then she invited him over for dinner. And then she said I had to go with him to be nice for the gifts and he seems like such a nice young man (I did not have a good taste in men and it was rare a nice male presented themselves at my house).
I went into his car, begrudgingly. Annoyed he had ruined my plans to continue with my CD burning, suicide dying playlist making and that needed more music, and then writing the rest of my suicide note. I wouldn’t have enough time to do all this and then tie up all the things I had to tie up before leaving the earth.
So he drove us around showing me this CD, he said I could have it. It had a picture of a little girl surrounded by these cloaked figures and the devil and god were mentioned on the cover. He mentioned how much I would enjoy it.
The one thing we shared was our very niche alternative, progressive experimental emo post rock which was the common hate of our colleagues.
Who were always taking it away and making us listen to some electronic mainstream horrible jarring stuff.
We had the tendency to talk about music in depth or debate about artists we liked or disliked and why, and I enjoy that about people so I liked working with him. He also had been mean to be in ways I didn’t understand, but was nice to me one night when we spent time together six months prior and I had dissociated. He and I had kissed, made out. I didn’t find him attractive but I made out with everyone and I was naked in his bed.
I have been naked in a lot of beds.
What he did was novel. When he saw my dissociating, he stopped whatever had been happening and tried to communicate with me by asking if I was okay, I remember that night telling one of the biggest lies of my life when I said “I’m a virgin”. Then he helped me collect each item of my clothing and make sure I had them back on my body, other than people I was dating regularly, nobody I’d just hooked up casually with and frozen up with ever did anything but had lifeless horrible sex with my frozen body. (Apparently that is not even consenting thus they consider it to be rape but that’s still not violent, brutal, sadist rape the way I’ve been raped forcibly).
His demeanour that night however was not how I see it now. I was angry. Mortified. Humiliated. How dare he question what is going on when I can’t even understand that myself…Then I blacked out again, and woke up at it was 6am. I had to get home. So I fled and he followed me the entire way home on his bike while I remained mute in flight.
So the six months after that event were misconstrued by workplace bullying and my own issues, his issues and our coworkers suspecting a type of secret affair and blowing it out of proportion to both of us.
At the point he came to my house I was not expecting it but we had a friendship, so sitting there listening to this CD being told it was going to change my life was different. Jesus Christ, ok. It was the next song Degausser, that blew my heart in a new direction.
Somehow that song led the entire CD to play its full circle. Then he put the early one on, to compare how it had changed, and we listened to that.
Talking about the depth and growth of the band. I could be a million miles away from the suicide ideation only hours before that consumed every inch of my being.
Now we put the Devil and God back on while we waited for dinner and drove back home, ate dinner with my family, and even talked some more after dinner into the night outside while I smoked my cigarettes.
By the time he went home it was 10pm.
Did I still have time to do my suicide preparation?
But did I even want to anymore when I opened my hip top and saw a text and felt something in my stomach or chest that I’d usually feel with everyone else id cycle through but in a different type of way?
The suicide urge that had built for a few weeks and lead to my planning death for the day of April 8 2008 was no longer a present desire.
I made a suicide box instead, which was a storage place I kept all suicide preparing objects for years to come until 2013 when I had to destroy them. Or when they had been exorcised after this.
I never did attempt to hang myself with that rope, together he and I destroyed it.
However other items later on accumulating were used for overdoses, cutting & severing my artery and causing blood loss.
Several other fumes did not work. The most savage thing I have tried in the time after was jumping off a bridge onto a rail track:
A colossal fail due to no light at night, and rolled in rocks and debris on the side of the rail road track under the bridge instead of the actual track. I laid in the grass or tree area on the side of the rail for hours waiting for a trail to come but it never did come, covered in mud and scratches, ruined clothes.
I wasn’t carefully planning that attempt, it was a case of a trigger one night at 2am, spur of the moment.
when I was speaking childhood abuse without any support and lacking the help I needed for trauma healing I felt I had exhausted options. I dissociated, I had been so triggered I had hopped onto a train alone to travel 8 hours away to meet a friend. He went to sleep and as soon as he did I bailed for the mountain that looked over the ocean but realised the train was better. It was so dark that night and I was trying to drink alcohol to get ready to face the impact so I was completely off with aim, I had knives out, I had disorganised the room I was staying in, I had slowly been losing it but this night it was completely off the walls lost.
The alcohol only lead to my emotions firing up, and I had some fixation that I was lured by the person who had triggered me. So I was going to do a dossier to expose them, then live stream the suicide. Yeah so my phone died. This wasn’t a good idea to start with, nor was it thought out like the original suicidal ideation I spent weeks to months to years plotting to take out.
In the compare and contrast element here we can see the stark difference.
When I was saved, it was without asking for it.
When I was begging for help,
I was left to be tossed to the train tracks by my traumatic stress response which requires true care or support from someone who cares or loves someone else and should never escalate to the moment where suicide is being carried out.
Infact; the scenario that was April 2008 erased the suicide ideation until around late 2010 which spurred from other things in life. I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. I had to get the therapy needed for that. I did. But it was more impulsive triggers of emotional dysregulation unlike the planned long term suicidal ideation prior to that. I would respond to a bad situation by attempting to suicide by whatever means. (Parasuicide).
But the last one, a person, also involved, I asked please help me, was denied not only one time but probably over 40 times. Then resulted in multiple times where I was left to plead and beg for help. Suicide attempts and self destruct active due to being triggered and not supported. I went into treatment had “support” from them but after the treatment was over I moved into a new home, away, had some time and space and after several instances I think I was finally of the notion this is bad.
So I just disengaged, and stayed self focused. Stopped talking as much, stopped engaging and stopped worrying about that person and hoping for them to be apart of my life when they were damaging to my life.
I have lived a life without them and been fine. if they are real they can act in action to demonstrate. I won’t bother waiting around on human beings who can’t do simple acts of decency.
What is meant to be happens naturally and without effort. The time my ex showed up at my door is only one tiny example of the beginning to how I started to expect others to show me affection.
If you care, show you care. Actions speak. The smallest things have the largest impact and help build connections stronger. Depriving communication starves interpersonal relationships & closes the door on it. If you are wanting to move on from a person with #cptsd do the bare minimum and be honest, congruent about it
So going forward, I can draw on the most deadly example of my suicidal trigger from dark trauma response as a way to gauge relationships in my life.
Or I can simply be monitoring the small things like active listening, empathy, actions vs words, truth and honesty, congruence, showing up with a rose of Venus, or writing a letter, or simply doing a collaboration.
I won’t sit and share and not be given equal or more than I know I deserve, end of discussion.
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