Apologies for the rambling nature. Also, I know this is arguable if it should be on this side instead of the other subforum. I beg you this privilege of perhaps stretching the rules here; I'm feeling rather committed on this side, so would prefer to see this as the start of my third-and-successful suicide attempt, rather than a recovery story. Still a bit off from the failed attempt; regretting not having completed it and having prematurely disposed of the good stuff. If it reads like a bad soap opera, well, I agree. Sadly, it's nonetheless true. I just want to be able to write the end of my life in a literary style in a place that might be able to grok fully.
I should begin by saying it was, after all, originally my idea. I knew before I went back that this was the direction this would probably go. C'est la vie; c'est le mort. And I was the one who raped my wife by sodomy without consent and thus merited death by my own, her, and especially her new (became wife subsequent to my act and our initial breakup) wife's opinion. My wife's opinion on the matter being of course the most important, but she was rather supportive of my choice of corrective action.
Sadly, I felt in a hurry to do it before either of us changed our mind, and so used the same method I'd first tried long ago, which then I'd chosen for plausible deniability (which worked back then) if failed (and, obviously). I chickened out quite quickly and decided I wanted to live. This time I admitted it to the medicos from the start (that it was a failed/aborted attempt), because it seemed rather foolish not to.
So, I went through a brief hospital stay and my first psych trip. The hospital was surprisingly nice; I was really feeling optimistic about a new life in there. Psych sucked. I'd wanted to talk to someone individually about what happened. Zero of that; just an offer of drugs, which I didn't want without talking first. That was a test of my recovery in will I barely made it through. In hindsight I regret passing up the meds so vociferously though.
My wife had actually contacted my family and been playing good wife. Which both offended me but also was sweet. But what bothered me most was she didn't directly contact me, so I figured she was mad at me for not finishing, which I figured she had a right to be under the circumstances.
But when I got out, she had sent a kind but somewhat strange message:
"I do still love you. If you do see this though- I'm just sorry I can't speak to you again"
and later
"I'm sorry I'm not trying to bother you either. I just don't know how much longer I've have [sic] to communicate with you at all, regardless of how minimal it is because, in this instance, its me that's the coward".
I never really got clear explanations, to my view, of why she thought I wouldn't want to speak to her again, or why she thought she was being a coward about something, although one time later I did try asking to revisit it and she said we'd already discussed it and basically she was too frustrated to point to the section of the texts where she felt we had (I don't think it was explained but I have partial guesses of what she was referring to).
We ended up talking again, and some of it was quite positive: she was actually consistently encouraging of me continuing to live and having survived the attempt. I was surprised because I certainly felt she had the right to be mad at me for building up this whole thing for nothing / being a coward, yet again, on something critical I promised. So when she was a bit extra demeaning than usual in other ways, I figured I'd earned it honestly through my many failings.
But I hadn't actually seen her in person since I'd made the failed attempt.
Then, at the climactic dinner, also where she was meeting my father in person for the first time, where I was going to try to finally insist upon some boundaries in my relationship with her, because I felt the degradation was getting to be too much (which in hindsight I wish I'd just shut up and kept taking my medicine instead of stepping out of line by having told what had happened) and having at long last finally seen her in person, which I believe was for both of us was a moment of genuine relief during a difficult period...it turned out she was having a mental health episode. I hadn't been interacting with her much that day, because it was when I was telling everyone what had happened and trying to decide what I was going to say, my response to her demand that I promise to obey her new wife in every way, to which I'd already agreed, because of course I had, but had hoped to .... I don't even know at this point. It seemed to make sense to me at the time, how I was going to try to ask her from my side to agree to be husband and wife again in some mutual way instead of this dictating terms to me she had gotten into. "I still have two rings; if you accept, we can each wear one".
Never got a chance. Because she showed up to the dinner out of her mind. The theme of the dinner was "the Earth is dying. The Moon is leaving the Earth". Later had my suspicion confirmed the break was acid-related. I certainly have my blame for helping kick off her downward spiral as our relationship failed. And perhaps for not having tried to get her back on meds sooner. But she had been good without meds throughout our marriage. I mean, I don't know anymore. In hindsight, having some sort of meds she wanted probably might have helped. But given her past history with them, she didn't want any of it, and I didn't want to try to sway her one way or another, but just support her doing whatever she thought right (although apparently she told her mother I was trying to get her off them, which was disappointing to me; perhaps I was too encouraging when she was considering going off them, but from what I saw, she was sleeping like 18 hours a day at times and that was the biggest change; having done a psych stay and spoken to her mother now, I understand better how arguably foolish and reckless going that long without meds was and I wish I'd encouraged her to adjust her meds with some type of doctors involved).
Anyhow, the next day she ended up going to the ER to get herself into psych. I was glad she was getting help. She'd said to me that she was intending to have her final psych stay to get her meds right soon; this was just a few weeks earlier than she'd planned I suppose. I think she'll kick ass and figure out whatever combo she wants.
I had been hoping to be able to visit her in psych. It seemed to me like that was what destiny intended, me having just gone through it and her having sort of referenced that she was going to follow me. I took it more literally and figured I'd be able to visit her in the place I was, but her wife informed me that she doesn't want to see or hear from me, so I was mistaken or delusional on that, as all my advisors had told me.
Now, my wife's wife has ordered me to drink poison. Unfortunately, I already threw away the SN I'd ordered at her suggestion. I wish she'd just said that first instead of last, because it would have saved us all a few weeks.
Now I have to go home and play nice on my farewell tour and then order another batch and do it right this time.
Anyhow, thanks for listening. I'm feeling rather stupid, yet again, for having tossed the package instead of just storing it so I could have the option if I wanted it. I'd just gotten foolishly hopeful between the positive hospital stay and the encouraging words from my wife when I got out.
Right now I'm just in a temporary limbo until I've secured a new package and so forth. I definitely feel like I shouldn't have backed out of the prior attempt. I'd sent her messages basically begging to back out, and she just didn't respond. She called eventually, after about an hour. I don't remember most of the call. Even at the time, the log showed 8 minutes but it felt more like maybe 2; I knew I hadn't remembered most of it. The first part she asked how I was doing, and I said not good but that I was okay and would be alright I thought (turned out I'd keep intermittently puking for 12+ hours until I eventually called 911). I think she asked me a couple times if there was anything she could do for me and I said no. And the end is what haunts me. Because as best I recall she said something like, paraphrased as best I can, "I hope what you're going through is over soon; I'm going to let you go now".
And I felt like I should have died. Because that was the only way it would be over soon. And I didn't want her to let me go.
It's why I was so surprised that she said afterwards she was glad I survived and was as positive as she was towards me, because I had taken the text message silence after I changed my mind and begged to live, combined with my recollection of that call, as indicating that she would have preferred if I had done what I said I was going to do, but just was going to wait and see rather than saying yea or nay. So I'd really wanted to be able to discuss with her exactly what she thought.
But I don't have that right. And all three of us have agreed, at least at one point, on this matter. Two of the three of us still agree, for sure, and I can't be sure whether my wife currently or in the future would prefer that I live or die, although her most recent words were quite positive.
I think the biggest issue here is me having outed her involvement to my family. I thought it was necessary because I wanted to be able to make it clear what had happened and why: not to cast blame but just because I was worried about her deflections or misrepresentations I felt I'd gotten when I'd tried to address it. If she'd been willing to say, "yeah, I wanted you dead, but now I think that was a bit much", I'd have taken that as more than fair, because so did I. But I was hung up on her trying to portray in text like she didn't think I was serious (like, we both know that's false), or that she was just numb (only got 'numb' after I changed my mind?), and so forth. In hindsight, I wish I had accepted her and her wife's clear suggestions that I fall on my sword by accepting one of those many narratives they'd given me to cover her, instead of exposing the deal I made and broke.
Had I been willing to just keep quiet / go along with the story, I think I would've been allowed to keep being punished forever by them, which is more than I deserve.
Because I rejected my wife's wife's suggestion that I interrupted my wife's otherwise positive acid trip by calling her during my suicide attempt for no good reason, she's ordered me to kill myself. And if I'd still had the poison in storage like I should've, instead of tossing it away like an idiot, I'd be dead right now like I should be.
Instead, here I am, rambling on and on in limbo, wasting everyone's time and to no purpose. We'll reach the same end in a month or two at most. Just a bit more of me acting the fool on the way out I suppose.
I should begin by saying it was, after all, originally my idea. I knew before I went back that this was the direction this would probably go. C'est la vie; c'est le mort. And I was the one who raped my wife by sodomy without consent and thus merited death by my own, her, and especially her new (became wife subsequent to my act and our initial breakup) wife's opinion. My wife's opinion on the matter being of course the most important, but she was rather supportive of my choice of corrective action.
Sadly, I felt in a hurry to do it before either of us changed our mind, and so used the same method I'd first tried long ago, which then I'd chosen for plausible deniability (which worked back then) if failed (and, obviously). I chickened out quite quickly and decided I wanted to live. This time I admitted it to the medicos from the start (that it was a failed/aborted attempt), because it seemed rather foolish not to.
So, I went through a brief hospital stay and my first psych trip. The hospital was surprisingly nice; I was really feeling optimistic about a new life in there. Psych sucked. I'd wanted to talk to someone individually about what happened. Zero of that; just an offer of drugs, which I didn't want without talking first. That was a test of my recovery in will I barely made it through. In hindsight I regret passing up the meds so vociferously though.
My wife had actually contacted my family and been playing good wife. Which both offended me but also was sweet. But what bothered me most was she didn't directly contact me, so I figured she was mad at me for not finishing, which I figured she had a right to be under the circumstances.
But when I got out, she had sent a kind but somewhat strange message:
"I do still love you. If you do see this though- I'm just sorry I can't speak to you again"
and later
"I'm sorry I'm not trying to bother you either. I just don't know how much longer I've have [sic] to communicate with you at all, regardless of how minimal it is because, in this instance, its me that's the coward".
I never really got clear explanations, to my view, of why she thought I wouldn't want to speak to her again, or why she thought she was being a coward about something, although one time later I did try asking to revisit it and she said we'd already discussed it and basically she was too frustrated to point to the section of the texts where she felt we had (I don't think it was explained but I have partial guesses of what she was referring to).
We ended up talking again, and some of it was quite positive: she was actually consistently encouraging of me continuing to live and having survived the attempt. I was surprised because I certainly felt she had the right to be mad at me for building up this whole thing for nothing / being a coward, yet again, on something critical I promised. So when she was a bit extra demeaning than usual in other ways, I figured I'd earned it honestly through my many failings.
But I hadn't actually seen her in person since I'd made the failed attempt.
Then, at the climactic dinner, also where she was meeting my father in person for the first time, where I was going to try to finally insist upon some boundaries in my relationship with her, because I felt the degradation was getting to be too much (which in hindsight I wish I'd just shut up and kept taking my medicine instead of stepping out of line by having told what had happened) and having at long last finally seen her in person, which I believe was for both of us was a moment of genuine relief during a difficult period...it turned out she was having a mental health episode. I hadn't been interacting with her much that day, because it was when I was telling everyone what had happened and trying to decide what I was going to say, my response to her demand that I promise to obey her new wife in every way, to which I'd already agreed, because of course I had, but had hoped to .... I don't even know at this point. It seemed to make sense to me at the time, how I was going to try to ask her from my side to agree to be husband and wife again in some mutual way instead of this dictating terms to me she had gotten into. "I still have two rings; if you accept, we can each wear one".
Never got a chance. Because she showed up to the dinner out of her mind. The theme of the dinner was "the Earth is dying. The Moon is leaving the Earth". Later had my suspicion confirmed the break was acid-related. I certainly have my blame for helping kick off her downward spiral as our relationship failed. And perhaps for not having tried to get her back on meds sooner. But she had been good without meds throughout our marriage. I mean, I don't know anymore. In hindsight, having some sort of meds she wanted probably might have helped. But given her past history with them, she didn't want any of it, and I didn't want to try to sway her one way or another, but just support her doing whatever she thought right (although apparently she told her mother I was trying to get her off them, which was disappointing to me; perhaps I was too encouraging when she was considering going off them, but from what I saw, she was sleeping like 18 hours a day at times and that was the biggest change; having done a psych stay and spoken to her mother now, I understand better how arguably foolish and reckless going that long without meds was and I wish I'd encouraged her to adjust her meds with some type of doctors involved).
Anyhow, the next day she ended up going to the ER to get herself into psych. I was glad she was getting help. She'd said to me that she was intending to have her final psych stay to get her meds right soon; this was just a few weeks earlier than she'd planned I suppose. I think she'll kick ass and figure out whatever combo she wants.
I had been hoping to be able to visit her in psych. It seemed to me like that was what destiny intended, me having just gone through it and her having sort of referenced that she was going to follow me. I took it more literally and figured I'd be able to visit her in the place I was, but her wife informed me that she doesn't want to see or hear from me, so I was mistaken or delusional on that, as all my advisors had told me.
Now, my wife's wife has ordered me to drink poison. Unfortunately, I already threw away the SN I'd ordered at her suggestion. I wish she'd just said that first instead of last, because it would have saved us all a few weeks.
Now I have to go home and play nice on my farewell tour and then order another batch and do it right this time.
Anyhow, thanks for listening. I'm feeling rather stupid, yet again, for having tossed the package instead of just storing it so I could have the option if I wanted it. I'd just gotten foolishly hopeful between the positive hospital stay and the encouraging words from my wife when I got out.
Right now I'm just in a temporary limbo until I've secured a new package and so forth. I definitely feel like I shouldn't have backed out of the prior attempt. I'd sent her messages basically begging to back out, and she just didn't respond. She called eventually, after about an hour. I don't remember most of the call. Even at the time, the log showed 8 minutes but it felt more like maybe 2; I knew I hadn't remembered most of it. The first part she asked how I was doing, and I said not good but that I was okay and would be alright I thought (turned out I'd keep intermittently puking for 12+ hours until I eventually called 911). I think she asked me a couple times if there was anything she could do for me and I said no. And the end is what haunts me. Because as best I recall she said something like, paraphrased as best I can, "I hope what you're going through is over soon; I'm going to let you go now".
And I felt like I should have died. Because that was the only way it would be over soon. And I didn't want her to let me go.
It's why I was so surprised that she said afterwards she was glad I survived and was as positive as she was towards me, because I had taken the text message silence after I changed my mind and begged to live, combined with my recollection of that call, as indicating that she would have preferred if I had done what I said I was going to do, but just was going to wait and see rather than saying yea or nay. So I'd really wanted to be able to discuss with her exactly what she thought.
But I don't have that right. And all three of us have agreed, at least at one point, on this matter. Two of the three of us still agree, for sure, and I can't be sure whether my wife currently or in the future would prefer that I live or die, although her most recent words were quite positive.
I think the biggest issue here is me having outed her involvement to my family. I thought it was necessary because I wanted to be able to make it clear what had happened and why: not to cast blame but just because I was worried about her deflections or misrepresentations I felt I'd gotten when I'd tried to address it. If she'd been willing to say, "yeah, I wanted you dead, but now I think that was a bit much", I'd have taken that as more than fair, because so did I. But I was hung up on her trying to portray in text like she didn't think I was serious (like, we both know that's false), or that she was just numb (only got 'numb' after I changed my mind?), and so forth. In hindsight, I wish I had accepted her and her wife's clear suggestions that I fall on my sword by accepting one of those many narratives they'd given me to cover her, instead of exposing the deal I made and broke.
Had I been willing to just keep quiet / go along with the story, I think I would've been allowed to keep being punished forever by them, which is more than I deserve.
Because I rejected my wife's wife's suggestion that I interrupted my wife's otherwise positive acid trip by calling her during my suicide attempt for no good reason, she's ordered me to kill myself. And if I'd still had the poison in storage like I should've, instead of tossing it away like an idiot, I'd be dead right now like I should be.
Instead, here I am, rambling on and on in limbo, wasting everyone's time and to no purpose. We'll reach the same end in a month or two at most. Just a bit more of me acting the fool on the way out I suppose.
