This is breaking my sharpie Sunday tradition… Here is some prose for you- to prove I can write in full sentences…also to prove I have depth and heart- I’m not always so flippant compared to how I may come across in my sharpie scribbling.
Something just happened that was a knife in my chest. Busy scrolling. Surfing spotify for different music. Music is a great escape for me though rarely do I escape in the unexpected way I just did.
I’m writing this just after…immediacy is important in writing. Fuck planning and crafting. Just fucking write. Give that heart of yours a direct line through your fingers onto that keyboard.
Go back there Summer.
I just did….this is a stream of consciousness…what happened.
What is this song? Why is there a soundtrack? This is Spotify’s classical new releases. I was searching for relaxation to soothe the old PTSD.
Why is there a woman speaking? What is she saying?…oh fuck…she’s doing a voiceover reading a suicide note. Fuck.
Nothing else is noticed.
Attention is absorbed.
Hold breath. Listen. Strain to hear what she’ll say next.
Look at album cover of song. It’s called The Waves : Tuesday. A giant ocean wave is pictured.
The one that swept that poor lady away?… Probably.
Keep listening…words which make my eyes sting, then fill with water. Salty sea water? Maybe. Probably. Profound. Powerful. Absorbing.
I’m back there.
I’m writing my note.
I’m saying my goodbye.
I’m justifying doing what I’m about to do.
I’m sealing this, thinking this is the last time I’ll taste that weird bitter taste of envelope strip sealing stickiness.
Maybe that’s what life is. Bitter tasting. Yup.
I’ll opt out.
I’ll do it to the melancholic tones of Lana del Rey “Once upon a dream”
He won’t miss me. My girls will be ok. They’ll get a new mum. He’ll find someone better who is less damaged and flawed. Less reliant. Less dependant. Less everything that is wrong with the shamed piece of kit that is me.
“I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream”………sings Lana.
I press stop with a wobbly finger. (I’m writing about then, not now)
This was my journey.
Today’s piece of music made me relive it.
I have already rang my CPN to thank him and say sorry I can’t do this anymore. I’ve had enough pain.
I was too numb to cry.
I lock the front door. I climb into the car.
This is calmer than I expected.
Why am I not panicking?
I’m too dissociated to. The anxiety shuts my brain off.
My outfit is perfect to die in. I’ll make a damn beautiful corpse. I’ll probably be prettier as a corpse than I’ve ever been in my living life.
I was obsessed with how my corpse would look when I was a blue seaweed covered hollowed out ragdoll in a white tkmaxx babydoll dress washed to shore.
I wondered how he would find out where I was and what I’d done. Push that out.
That thought hurt. I remember how much.
I’m there now.
Walk towards sea. Feel the shock of the icy surf on my toes and bare ankles. Walking fast. Waves giving me momentary power just before taking it all away.
Excitement building even more so.
I’m the queen of the waves.
You shouldda seen her.
Up to her neck.
Water over tip of head.
Fuck, the bouyancey is strong.
Does the ocean wanna take me or not?
Back in the room. February 2017.
Music still playing. Voiceover ends. She must have done it.
Beautiful music. Freedom. Soaring melodies.
Imagining the freedom I could have had.
One of my most freeing moments that was.
Will I ever forget?
No. Of course I won’t.
I’lI never forget the look on my husband’s face when I returned soaking wet from my aborted attempt.
That is what I felt when I heard the music.
This is the transcript of what the suicidal woman wrote, as unfortunately I couldn’t find the musical piece on YouTube.
I borrow her words to describe how I felt about him.
I feel certain that I’m going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. I shan’t recover this time. I’m beginning to hear voices. I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have, in every way been what any great man could possibly be. I don’t think two people could have been happier, till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life. Without me you can work. And you will, I know. You see, I can’t even write this properly. I can’t breathe. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me, and incredibly good. I want to say that everybody knows if anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone for me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than you and I have been.
My best friend.
I just couldn’t bring myself to leave you.
That happened in April 2015. That was my first attempt of three. I was hospitalised just after.
It was my favourite one.
What…you have a favourite suicide attempt? That’s sick isn’t it?
No, it’s not sick, but I was sick.
I was very very sick.
Now I’m stronger than I’ve been for a long time. I’m not half as broken…but I’ll never forget how broken I was back then.
I’ll never forget the waves…and everything I felt and didn’t feel on that day.
April 25th 2015.
Hearing that music, April 25th 2015 just came back around for me.
I lived it again, experientially.
I thought the waves were powerful…but the wavelengths of music are even more powerful as they link us up with powerful moments in time, like the day I nearly drowned myself on purpose, convinced there was no other way.
I lived that today. Experientially.
I’m drenched in emotion.
I remember that hell as if it were yesterday.
Never again can I go to that place of illness and that is why I am so committed to therapy, meds and working hard every fucking day to avoid never drowning.
I don’t want that to be my fate.
But the lure of it captures my attention and that is what brokenness is. Brokenness is so hard and complicated to get a proper grasp on.
How the hell do you start?
There is no beginning or end.
No measuring sticks.
I just know I am well away from the danger of the waters edge physically…but psychologically that is where I am drawn.
Time and time again.
Especially as the full moon approaches.
Every fucking month.
But I won’t give them the satisfaction.
I’m a wave maker and waves I will make.
I refuse to drown in them.
I’m a survivor.
I am something the universe needs.
Spirit in abundance.
Waves: Prepare to be surfed on, not drowned in.