In response to Zoomers Writer's Wednesday- "Voices"

 

 

 

 

 

I awoke from a deep medicated sleep by voices laughing behind the hospital curtain. The nurses were chatting at their desk and I silently wondered if I knew any of them that might come in and give me a kind word. Suddenly I heard the voice of my former obstetrician and remained quiet hoping she would not know I was there. Hearing her footsteps fade into the distance I suddenly ached for her to be by my side to reassure me that everything would be okay. I longed to see her smile or even hear words of anger that attempting to take your life was not something you should do.

 

 

 

 

 

Seeing the light of the moon cast its glare on the floor I knew that I would have to relive this day for the rest of my life. How many times had I done this and how many more times would I want to do it again? I felt my still tear-stained cheeks and knew that the hours of crying had not helped. This time it had been close; so close that I could taste it. Death had called out to me to be his friend and my stupidity had left me still standing on the other side with the living.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a depressed state I had consumed two bottles of Tylenol and not realized that they were time acting capsules. When I awoke at 2:30 that night one by one were exploding in my stomach without enough punch to finish my life.

 

 

 

As I drove to work I stopped every few miles and wretched on the side of the road. Why was I still here; was there a reason? I walked into my store, collapsed, and called a friend. Did I make a plea for help because I wanted to live this time? I told them I was okay and the phone fell out of my hand as I collapsed into a chair and heard her frantically calling out my name.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I gazed outside and saw the morning light break as I watched life pass by looking at me with silent voices. Fading shadows of my friend accompanied by men dressed in black suddenly began banging on the door. The small group were feverishly trying to get me to open the locked door and they refused to take no for an answer. My inner voice told me I was going to live even if I wanted to or not. I turned the door key slowly and they rushed me by ambulance to the nearest hospital. I was placed on a gurney while frantic speaking nurses worked hard to find the veins in my arm to start an IV.

 

 

 

With each movement they uttered angry words that I was going to live whether I liked it or not. The tears of self pity started to flow and would not stop. A nurse came in with an "activated charcoal" beverage and stood there while I drank the vicious liquid. Her mumbled words explained that consuming this liquid in large amounts was going to make it possible that I live. The room suddenly turned dark and I hoped I would drown in my tears but all I heard were voices telling me that I needed to live for tomorrow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hours later I was still surrounded by yellow curtains that offered me no hope or advice. My eyes were as swollen as the veins in my arms that still held the IV. There was a reason I was alive and I needed to understand that. Visions of former attempts flared through my mind as I saw stomach pumps and therapists all wanting to know why I wanted to die. I saw faded visions of conversation explaining how the voices of depression told me this was the only way to escape.

 

 

 

From the age of 6 I had been handed way too much to endure and it took its toll. No one could take away that feeling of family loss as it grew and multiplied until it took over my soul. Pills and doctors could not remove the sorrow and it grew like a large expanding tumour with every suicide attempt. My inner voices kept repeating I would have been better off dead as I pulled the curtains aside and looked out the window.

 

 

 

I sighed and looked at the moon, frightened of what I might find tomorrow knowing that tears are always something you can hide but inner voices carry on.

 

 

 

 




Photos &Text: Linda Seccaspina- Menopausal Woman of the Corn

Photos: Google

 

 


 

 

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Tags: blog, depression, drugs, meds, pain, sorrow, suicide, til-tuesday, voices, voices-carry

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Comment by Linda Seccaspina on March 7, 2012 at 4:37pm

and you are here too for a reason sheila.. huggggggggggg

Creekend inner depth? MOI??:) you sir are far too kind

Comment by Sheila Luecht on March 7, 2012 at 3:53pm

I am glad you are here and that you shared this. This kind of desperation and pain is wrenching and that you survived to reflect on it, powerful. Your survival speaks volumes. Your life since that time speaks volumes. You are here for a reason and I know that I have personally benefited from your caring existence. Hugs to you my dear friend.

Comment by CreekEnd_UK on March 2, 2012 at 5:03am

WoW. Amazing. Only people who have an inner depth can write like this.

"Press sink please FRed(tm)."

Comment by Linda Seccaspina on February 29, 2012 at 7:51pm

Thank Hayley.. never thought about Plath hahah

Comment by Hayley Rose on February 29, 2012 at 7:06pm

This was a really amazing post. Very Sylvia Plath. Very very very interesting and unbelievable that you have such clear and vivid memories of what happened. Thanks for sharing this

Comment by Linda Seccaspina on February 29, 2012 at 3:29pm

HUGGGGGGG jason.

Comment by Jason Giecek on February 29, 2012 at 3:27pm

We all have a reason for being here, although we all forget that a lot of time!! ~huge hug~ Glad you didn't succeed last time!!! Cause if ya had succeeded, I wouldn't have gotten to know ya!!!!!

Comment by Linda Seccaspina on February 29, 2012 at 11:00am

Mary and Steve.. this is from my gut.. there are others that feel like this so it must be told.

years ago but it was the last time

Comment by Steve S on February 29, 2012 at 10:54am

Stuff like this is frightening to me.

 

Please hang around from now on, eh.

Comment by Mary Katherine Manuel on February 29, 2012 at 10:39am

You are such a complex and magnificent person. I could not imagine a world without you and your inspiring words in it. You are loved by so many who wait to read your words each day.

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