Day That Remains Unnamed

I remember being cold and that it was dark but not so dark that I couldn’t see what was happening. There was a light, that’s right… one light was on. I was crying without making a sound. I can’t recall any noises. There were just tears. My eyes were blank. If you could have seen me you might think I was stuck paralyzed inside my body; eyes blank, body slack, slow unsteady tears falling occasionally.

That man was there; his warm hand on my cold one. I couldn’t look at him. I can’t accept what he is doing to me. I have long ago disassociated, separated myself from what and where reality had me. Who am I kidding; I did this to myself. I put myself here. This is the end result of a long line of mistakes and failures.

Only a thin cottony dress covers me now. Nothing underneath and nothing over. I am laying on my side not even trying to put up a fight, that man looming over me. He says nothing to me. I sense that he wants to, but maybe since I am behaving he doesn’t want to press his luck. Instead he continues what he came to do.

Surprisingly, I’m not feeling any pain. I don’t feel anything at the moment. I can’t or the world will fall in on me and I will panic. The man would not like it if I were to panic. The man has a sharp object in my body and I have to stay calm. Disassociate. Deep breaths. I look down at the floor. So much blood on the floor…

The man finishes one side and asks if I can roll over so he can stitch up my other inner arm. He gently lifts my thin, pale, filleted arm onto a table from my hospital bed and unwraps it from the layers of bandages. He sighs and prepares a hooked looking needle with some stitching thread while trying to keep part of my wound from bleeding before it is stitched. The tears start to flow again. I feel sorry for the doctor man, feeling pity for me.

When he’s finished I look like a monster. I feel like one, too. I have to stay numb inside. I’m not worried about the violence I have done to myself, that pain I need to feel. I’m concerned about the fallout to my family. My kids. I couldn’t worry about that right now. I’ll lose all sanity for sure.

I have to breathe and accept wherever this leads me to now.

 

 

 

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About Christine O.

A single Mom to two little girls until March 9, 2014 when I married my soul-mate, full time executive in a demanding field, marathon runner, daughter to the perfect parents, oldest sister of a younger brother and sister, coach, boss, girlfriend, best friend, member of the church choir, volunteer in the local Lion's Club and CASA organization, and becoming newly acclimated to the world of mental illness after a life changing event. My goal in blogging and learning as much as I can about this subject is to defeat stigma associated with brain disease and preventing suicide in the future.
This entry was posted in Anxiety, depression, guilt, hospital, major depressive disorder, mental illness, suicide, suicide attempt survivor, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Day That Remains Unnamed

  1. April says:

    I always hesitate to just like such a raw post and move along. While my journey with mental illness is different, I can empathize with you.

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