“Just Doing Research for a Story…”

Or maybe not…

If I suddenly disappear and someone decides to call missing persons and they investigate my online history, they will find lots of articles about suicide.

Now don’t all willied-up and have a friend call me to see how I am or if I still “am.” The real thing is there is no “friend” to call me — I don’t even think my sister would — see I haven’t emailed her in weeks — nothing to say. in my depression. And everytime I make a mistake, it’s her voice I hear reproaching me.

As a former RN I know all the BS procedures — suicide hot line, etc.

Here is one of those BS procedures: In order to have Medicare pay for my counseling after my stroke last year — really two years soon — I had to be intrviewed by a psychiatrist. Deciding I really was depressed and diagnosing me as someone with PTSD because of wonderful (snark!) childhood, the old man shrink asked me if there were any guns in our house. I laughed — and wanted to ask “Why do you want to buy one?’ —

That’s all my husband has space for and a big reason why I had no dresser to myself in our bedroom — too many gun safes.

The shrink had me being Heather in to tell her the guns had to be locked up.

Two years ago — they haven’t been locked up yet and if I’d wanted to find my way through the Pearly Gates or to the Devil’s Den (not the one in Gettyburg), There were many, many ways I could have done it right at my fat fingertips.

I just don’t want to leave a mess. You see, I’ve seen the video of Bud Dwyer’s suicide by eating his gun — it made a MESS.

This isn’t about the pandemic. It isn’t a new thought for me — when I was preteen I used to go outside in the winter, in the middle of the night, in my nightgown, with bare feet and stand on the concrete stoop, hoping to get ill — very ill. Never happened…

And now I’m a chicken-shit — too exhausted to live my life — whatever life I have at 73, with less phsysical abilities to do anything — even typing this hurts my right arm and upper back. And too afraid of the pain of suicide and too scared of what’s on the other side.

I know there are many people like me. They stay silent because they’re afraid of being ostracized on a pyshc ward and looked at with pity instead of understanding.

And before someone sticks this in the comments:

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Hours: Available 24 hours. Languages: English, Spanish.

Learn more

800–273–8255

A 70+ year old retired RN who’s following her 60 year old dream of being a writer, one interested in everything unusual. www.facebook.com/MitziFlyteAuthor

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