HA! Your revised story made me literally LOL. Very good points all.

I am a natural born skeptic.

I am a born-again believer in Truth.

Therefore, before passing on anything remotely questionable I do some basic detective work, ie, Snopes, Google, etc.  If it isn't true I don't pass it on AND I send my findings "reply all" to everyone sent the urban legend.

But sometime in the heat of the moment I screw up and click "send" anyway.

08/31/2015
 


The mood is erratic and unpredictable.
 


This date is auspicious.  Not for any good reason.  On August 31st my mother called.  Did call.  Will call.  It’s all still brand new.
 


It was just a conversation.  I believe I was the last person she spoke to in this world.  She had called to say goodbye.  I heard, but I didn’t listen.  It only occurred to me, after the fact, what she was really saying.  She said she loved me.  She said I was her heart.  Then she hung herself.
 


What do you do with this?
 


There was no note.  There didn’t need to be.  The action and the method she chose was the note.  I was able to determine her movements on the last day by examining the ambient patterns.
 


She had gotten up at around 7am.  She logged on to her AOL account and replied to an e-mail from someone on E-Bay about a book they were interested in purchasing.  She logged on to her Netflix account and ordered a moved.  She started a word document to list what medications she was on and their attendant side effects.  She had gone downstairs and took all of her medications out of the cabinet where they were kept and put them on the counter.  She began making a written list.
 


That’s where the trail ended.
 


Sometime between the time she put down that list, and that evening, she’d tied an extension cord to the frame that held the grab bar for the hospital bed my pop’s was sleeping in before he went to the nursing home.  A frame I assembled for them.  She fashioned a noose, got in the bed, put her head through the loop, and laid down.
 


She very likely choked to death.  She could have stopped at any time while she was still conscious.  She chose not to.  I can’t help but wonder if, as she finally saw the yawning pit of oblivion, when it was too late to turn back, if she might have though “no, stop, I’ve changed my mind”.
 


I wonder this about all of them.  Every last one who decided death was the only answer.
 


My therapist told me I shouldn’t feel guilty about this.  I tried to explain that I didn’t feel guilty.  I’ve experienced enough suicides to understand that, short of physical intervention, there was nothing I could say that would change their minds.
 


Suicide does not just hurt the one who chooses it.  It cuts everyone around them.  It drains away a part of your soul and hangs on you forever, as heavy as Marley’s chains.
 


I’ve lived through all of this self-destruction over and over and over again.  It strikes each time like a hammer-blow.  It’s soul-destroying.  I’m losing myself.
 

Thanks for listening
 
 
 

09/02/2015

 The mood is sedate. This is artificially induced but I'll take what I can get.

 I got through it. I got through the call, and the hanging, and without staying home and hiding under my bed.

 My younger brother Thomas was good enough to come to Panama City from Houston to make the trip to PA with me. This was fortunate because I was shutting down to the point where I couldn't stay awake. He did most of the driving up and all of the driving back. Love you me brudder. 


Sometimes I have to remind myself to think about what's good in my life. I have a job I love. I feel good about what I do and I have a great deal of freedom in doing it. If I want to slap on my headphones and blast 80's pop music all day (this is pretty much every day) I can. No one is standing over me. No one is telling me what to do or how to do it. I get my assigned work and as long as it's done in a timely manner I'm left alone.

 I have people who care about me. The Wendy's are always there and I know I can turn to any one of them if I need to. There are also my coworkers. My pod spouse-Debala and my pod-mom Joan. There are other friends, a number of which are reading this. Group hug for everyone.

 I have a safe, comfortable home. I'm secure. It's a good life.

 Sometimes I forget this.

 But I have people who understand.

 And this is a fine thing indeed.

 Thanks for listening.

CT,

My life is richer for knowing you on line and in person.