So my Sonny boy David came home after a long shift at work. He works at the Bay, a very nice restaurant located on Santa Rosa beach. They cater to the more affluent in the area. So sweet Days (as I like to call him) comes in. Lance and I were in bed attempting to sleep. This never works as planned as I toss and turn for a while. I hear him come in and am quick to my feet to visit with him. Trying to get as much David time as I can.
So we say hi, hug etc. I sit at the breakfast bar and ask him how his day went. He says “Mom, a guy I work with killed himself” I ask how old? He says I’m not sure late 20’s early 30’s I say damn that is terribly sad, as I think how devastated his poor family is over this loss the day before New Years Eve. David says” Well you know holidays sometimes get the better of people”. I tell him I hope he never feels that alone in life because he always has us, and we need him.
Then I thought about it, several months ago I was taking a medication I’ll just call it A. A disease modifying drug since this recent severe flare up I was having. The medication had me very out of sorts and just miserable about the person Ive become. I was sleeping constantly and barely strong enough to get from the couch to the bathroom. Life as I knew it was FUCKED!
During this time I became despondent. I woke up every morning wondering what fresh hell was going to take place. The pain was mind numbing. Dr’s push pain meds and theres only so much of that shit you can take before the body becomes tolerant and BOOM you wake up a full blown addict. I saw what it did to my sister’s life and refuse to go down that rabbit hole.
At this point 46, unable to work because I’m in severe pain and high from pain meds. I was starting to feel like a burden on my family. I could barely get out of bed. What use was I to any of them? Ive always been the doer. I worked, cleaned house, cooked etc. Now I was nothing but a lump on the couch.
I admit I was contemplating how long I could go on like this? I mean how long do people lay there doing nothing and bringing nothing to the table before checking out?
I thought long and hard how? The only thing I could think would be to just O.D, no pain etc. Just drift off to sleep and that would be it. Then I thought about my religious background. I was raised Pentecostal. We just don’t do suicide unless we want an eternity in hell. That and Ive always been of the belief that God calls us home when our job here was done. I’ve believed that since my former husband Bob passed of cancer. When he was sick he would say I just need to stay around until the boys are grown. While we would have given anything to have him around longer, his job was done and he wound up passing at home surrounded by all of us. When I go I would like the same send off. So with all of this in my head I think my job isn’t done here. I’m here for a reason. Lance and my boys need me, somebody needs me. I have to keep fighting to make my days count.
At this point I realize that I need to stop being ON. I need to scale it back and enjoy whatever I have left. When I do go, I don’t want to be remembered for being a high strung bitch. I want people to think of me and say wow what a dynamic lady.
I had a friend of mine from years ago (that Bob and I worked with) Jerry tell me that I was very strong and an inspiration to people. Little did he know I needed to hear that, just at that moment.
So if I’m here for Lance, the boys, or maybe someone reading this blog Im doing something. I’m staying active. Not in the same sense I was, but I’m still of service to people around me.
How selfish would I be to take the easy way out and commit suicide when someone needs me? The boys and Lance give me purpose and I got something to say. So here I am still plugging along waiting on a cure.