This was one of the days that hell on Earth broke free from my brain. I had planned it to the last second. The amount of Thorazine I would take and beers I would add on top of it. I followed my instructions and wrote my letters. I did everything the way it was written out but still it didn’t work. I begged and screamed to be left alone. I locked myself in a room and wouldn’t answer the police or paramedics. Why wouldn’t they just fucking go away? Oh yeah, they aren’t paid to do that. I’m sure they wanted to considering they were dealing with a 41 year old woman whom they probably thought was acting like she was 2 or maybe 5 or 16.
I begged for my right to die. I don’t have to live do I? Apparently you don’t get that right to decide. I was involuntarily committed to the worst county hospital around and fought them tooth and nail about rights. By the way, you do not get to decide if you want to live or die, they decide. I learned I don’t get a right to decide, I also learned that they will slam you the fuck up against the wall if you say fuck this shit and not take medication. All and all I was lucky compared to the guy who could break through the walls of the rooms because of anger. Dude was mad. I wasn’t even that mad. And then….he was as chill as a fucking ice cream cone.
I always have it planned x4 but don’t have it in my mind to do it x4. Right now….I’m stable and don’t have to see my psychiatrist for 6 months. (YES)
I’ve often wondered if the “right to die” folks really just want a “right to kill”. Not sure…
Dying does seem a little… ummmm… irreversible?