Is suicide truly painless...?

The night I decided to commit suicide was just another Tuesday. I had called Taylor and his phone was off. I knew this meant one thing. He was with someone else. I had struggled with depression and sadness since my breakdown and the isolation of my self imposed hell...make that pretty hell was taking it's toll on me. I sat on my couch writing madly about any and everything that came to mind. It is amazing the thoughts that cross your mind when you are completely out of control. When you have not eaten in weeks and your only subsistence is provided through beer and Xanax. Seems that I had been on that plan for weeks. I had been in the home and my condition only worsened after my release. I couldn't escape the sadness, the heartache and misery of my very being was more than I could stand. So I concocted a plan. I would kill myself! I almost cheered at such a wonderful solution to this misery. I would consume all the mood altering medication I had and soon I would drift off and never be this miserable again. I was delighted as I rushed to my bedroom to get the drugs. Then off to the kitchen for an ice cold beer. It was the perfect plan. I would take the drugs in small handfuls as not to make myself puke. I took handful after handful until they were all gone. Then I perched myself on the couch for the countdown and of course to write my suicide note. It only consisted of one thing. What I wanted to be buried in...my brown Mongolian wool coat, my brown boots and my sunglasses. The drugs kicked in much sooner than I thought which was okay. I found myself in my room and decided that I needed my fountain pen I had left in the living room. As I passed the piano I remember falling and busting my ass. I guess the sock feet were not my most sensible choice. I got up and trudged on. The next thing I know it is three days later and I wake up freezing cold, on the floor in my bedroom curled around the leg of my bed naked. I remember the pain, it was hideous. I couldn't move from the pain and the stiffness of my ice cold body. I finally got the courage to pull myself up by my comforter and climbed under the covers. I was in such pain and all I could think of was how disappointed I was to still be alive. It was the most perfect plan and I was pissed! Then all of the sudden I look across the room and there on the bookshelf was my Angel. I had found it in the middle of my living room the day I returned home from the hospital. I couldn't understand what it was doing there all that time after Christmas, but it was there. So I took it into my bedroom and put it on the shelf while saying a little prayer for her to look after me. That moment I knew that I was destined for greater things. The shame of what I had done started to sink in and all I could do was cry. I thought of my children. Who might have found me. My parents that were still alive. Think about the loss of a child and think of how it would affect me if it were one of my children. I was overcome with such emotion that I was unable to stop the sobbing for quite some time. Eventually, I just stopped and thanked God for keeping me alive and apologized for what I had done. After a while I realized I had to use the bathroom and was unsure how I would get there since I was sure my leg was broken. I called Taylor and begged him to come take me to hospital, I told him my leg was broken and I couldn't walk. He just said he couldn't and I eventually hung up. I was still really fucked up so all my thoughts and movements were slow and painful. I finally decided that I would have to crawl on my hands and knees and that is what I did. After that I crawled back to my bed, but as I was pulling myself up I caught a glimpse of my kitchen. It was a scene of such mass destruction, I was in shock. All I could see was broken glass, dishes everywhere. Food...drugs all over my house. It was unnerving to say the least. Apparently, I didn't pass out as quickly as I had remembered. I tried to make my way through the kitchen to the refridgerator and stove, but without crushing broken glass into my hard wood floors there was no place I could step. I just remember surveying the scene and was horrified. I couldn't imagine what I had been thinking or for that matter what I had done. It was terrible...

Martyrdom...

For the past three years I have been wallowing in self pity. I have played the victim...martyrdom has been my home. Only today have I come to realize that I, alone am to blame. Yes, he did fuck me over. He did me wrong, but I ran him off. My actions sealed my fate. I am a hypocrite. I do not practice what I preach. I spend my life professing that I refuse to hold back. That I give my all, but I didn't. I was unable to do just that. I knew better. I knew that had I given my all I would have been lost forever. Despite my weary heart weeping openly for the loss of the love of my life. It has been my refusal to take responsibility for this turn of events that has me so fucked up that I now realize I don't miss him. I miss the niceties that came along with him. A self proclaimed Southern gentleman. Yes, a facade...old money, but a tragic creature that despite the time that has passed since there was an "Us"...I yearn for him in ways you couldn't imagine. I have to admit that I am jealous of the person who lives a life that was once mine. A life that I shared with a man I claimed to love so passionately that I tried to take my own life, because the thought of spending the rest of my life without him was not an option.

me

Ernest T Bass on Crack!

Ah yes...where was I. Oh yes... The week following our "break" I gradually got worse and worse. On the Tuesday following Taylor and I had this terrible fight, because he finally confessed that he had stayed at his niece's that weekend because he was feeling too "Married". I , of course being the vent person that I was at the time exploded with a five minute tyrade and finished the phone call with my hanging up and refusing to speak to him for days. On that Thursday I arrived at his store with a mirror I had finished painting for the redo on his jewlery store. I had spent countless hours having this amazing Harley poster I had saved for years framed, old things reframed, picking out the new flooring, the light fixture and the rug that would transform the once tacky and garish jewelry store into a place of style and taste. I came in and spent some time just sitting there as he and Michael the thieving bastard that embezzled tens of thousands of dollars from him finished the end of business. Of course, no one knew this at the time. Anyway, I give him the mirror, they hang it on the wall and it completes the the room just as I hoped it would. As I am leaving I see the reflection of Taylor and him wispering and I couldn't get past this. I mean in only a few days...how could he have secrets from me in just a few days. I left that night and headed home, but decided that I had to see him so I drove to his farm. I sat out front so nervous of what I would find that I just couldn't take it anymore. So I took a couple of xanaxs to relax myself. I finally got the nerve to ask him to come let me in, which he did reluctantly. When I got to his house and came in he was terribly mean to me. He was furious that I was there and my condition infuriated him. I got off the couch and headed to the kitchen because I was hungry. He asked me where I was going then told me I couldn't have anything to eat. I returned to the couch where I started to cry and eventually fell asleep. Early the next morning I woke up and went to pee. He woke up and I climbed into his bed. He held me so tightly...he asked me to stay, but I knew I had to go to work. I left a while later and was leaving when I remembered he had the warranty information for the camera he had bought me for Christmas. I knew this was a nice camera, but I was concerned about making my mortgage and had considered returning it to cover the expense. So I jumped out of my car and ran over to get it out of his truck. I didn't ask him, because I wasn't sure if he would give it to me. According to him, he saw me and at that moment lost all respect for me. Please bitch. You never had respect for me or anyone for that matter, least of all yourself. I tried to call him several times that morning on into the afternoon. He never answered. I finally got his dad and he had said he left around nine that morning. I went to his store that afternoon and he told he had lunch with friends. That I am afraid was the moment that I started my out of control period. I had so little control of myself that I had no idea what I would do. I actually feared for my life, but was unable to control anything about my actions. The first thing I did was go to his house in the middle of the night. I couldn't go in because the gate was locked. I returned the following night with a bolt cutter and cut the lock off. I drove onto his property that morning and sat in my car looking at his house until daylight...when I left and tried to go home and sleep. After and hour or so, I was back in my car and called him to say I am coming over. I guess that is when he discovered the lock and chain missing from his gate. I never admitted to taking it off and throwing into the woods. I arrived with only one thing in mind getting into his house and checking the caller id to see who he had been talking to. I approached him as I got out of my car and noticed his pistol on the porch beside him. When I asked him about it, he said that I had told people that I wanted to kill him. Which is total horseshit. I never even wanted to hurt him. The only thing I wanted from him was his love. Finally after a few minutes, I said I have to pee and ran up the steps and through the kitchen and on to the bathroom with his phone. I had stashed a paper in pen in my coat. That morning there were many girls numbers on the phone I wrote each one down with their names. I never dreamt that one of them would be the one he would forsake me for and eventually marry. After that morning I tried anything to sleep. I ate five or six xanaxs, nothing. I cannot tell you how unnerving the entire time was for me. I had never experienced such an out of control period in my life. Then came the following Monday, Valentine's Day. Taylor had relunctantly said we could spend it together. So I went to the mall to purchase some pretties and to wear for him. I took his stuff to him that day and while dropping it off I saw two cigarette butts in a planter on his deck. That sight is what sent me off the deep end. I knew no man would ever do such a thing and that only a woman would be so crude. I started walking to my car, but never made it. Before I knew it I had picked up a rock and thrown in through the screen on his porch. The next thing I know I go over to the two small trees that had just been planted and ripped them out of the ground. I popped my trunk and threw them in. As I was going around my car I spotted the Gardenia bush, it was huge and I had always loved it. I drove over with my car grabbed the shovel out of my trunk and dug it up. I hoisted it out of the ground and threw it into my truck and drove off. I went straight to the dump and threw them all in the pile with all the other stuff they burn and went home. I spent the afternoon getting ready and kept trying to call Taylor, but for some reason my phone wouldn't work. Finally, go to a pay phone and call him. He tells me he cancelled my phone because of what I had done. He askes me about the plants and I lie, of course. I beg him and he says, "Why don't we do a raincheck?". I say, "There are no rainchecks for Valentine's day". I go home so crushed and devastated that I never slept a wink. I get up for work and arrive early, but am so paralyzed with grief that I am unable to function. I cannot even take a piece of paper from my inbox. I know I must get some help, so I start calling people. Anyone to help me. I finally get Suzy, she is nice and says,why don't you come down and talk to me for a while and perhaps you might need to stay for a few days, just to get you feeling better. So I just leave my office and head home to pack. I arrive at the hospital and am greeted by this nice lady who brings me to her office and we start talking. The next thing I know she is taking my picture and bringing me some lunch. I ask her if I can leave if I dont' like it and she says yes...so I agree and sign that paper. She tells me I should have been there months ago. she had been doing intake for like twenty years and has never seen someone so far off the charts in all this time. She says that had I come into the emergency room she would have put me in I.C.U. I laugh and say I am a functioning member of society and she very painly states that I was not functioning, I was existing. It was a moment I shall never forget.

The beginning of the end...

It is difficult to imagine a year in my life that being admitted and held against my will in a mental hospital not being the worse thing that happened to me, but it is true.

Not the most proud moment of my life, but a defining moment non the less.

There are a couple of definitions I would like to share...

Control Freak-is a derogatory term for a person who attempts to dictate how everything around them is done. It can also refer to someone with a limited number of things that they want done a specific way; "Control Freaks" are people who care more than you do about something and won't stop at being pushy to get their way

Inferiority complex-a strong and persistent feeling of inferiority;

great lack of self-confidence.

Control Freak with a Massive Inferiority Complex-

Edward Taylor Harpe

Bi-Polar Disorder-Bipolar disorder is not a single disorder, but a category of mood disorders defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated mood, clinically referred to as mania. Individuals who experience manic episodes also commonly experience depressive episodes or symptoms, or mixed episodes which present with features of both mania and depression. These episodes are normally separated by periods of normal mood, but in some patients, depression and mania may rapidly alternate, known as rapid cycling. The disorder has been subdivided into bipolar I, bipolar II and cyclothymia based on the type and severity of mood episodes experienced.

2005 was a year that I experienced so much personal loss that I fear I may never recover fully.

There was a brief period of time that left me with so little control of myself and actions that I feared for my life. It all began around November of 2004 and my daughter came home to share some wonderful news with me. She had asked me into the living room to discuss this great news. Silly me, I thought that perhaps she had made an A on a text. Unfortunately for me that wasnt it at all. The news was she had decided to move in with her father, but was waiting for the weekend. My initial response was to call her an ungrateful brat. She responded with, I am sorry, I am selfish...I want things, things that you cannot give me. I knew immediately that this change would ruin me financially. I called Taylor and I cried to him and shared what this move meant to me personally and financially. You see my ex-husband had started a very succesful business and was quite well off. I, on the other hand lived paycheck to paycheck and I am sure there were times I wasn't able to provide our daughter with some of the perks that go along with being financially secure. Taylor had been urging me to move into his house for some time, but I resisted because Lilly had no desire to live in his house and I simply couldn't move my daughter in a house that she didn't feel welcome. It was her senior year in high school and I didn't want to disrupt her life with such a move. The plan was when she graduated, Iwould move to his home. I would no longer have the mortgage and I would be able to spend my time with the man I loved. Unfortunately the stress and hurt of this decision on Lilly's part took it's toll on me. But more importantly was the affect being in a relationship with this man I loved was taking on me. There were many aspects of our life that held deep, dark secrets that I never shared with anyone. Our life had taken a disturbing turn some time ago by allowing many nasty habits to filter in to our time we spent together. I do not feel comfortable enough to list them at this time as my children would be too devasted to learn these secrets. I would be too ashamed for this to be common knowledge. Perhaps a little later I will share details. Anyway, my heartach and stress took its toll on me until the infamous day of December 6, 2004, when Taylor and I had this major argument over the phone. It had been one of our long weekends that we traveled and partied like the big dogs that we were. I, of course had to rise and be at my job at 8 a.m. Monday morning while Taylor slept if off for several days or resorted to the easing his pain with Methadone that he would barter or buy from the loosers that worked for him or their friends that would stop by during the business day at his jewelry shop. Taylor had been a junkie since the seventies. While in college he dealt cocaine on such a level, he claims that he sold all the coke the city of Athens, GA could buy. Anyway, onward...to me. I knew it was over that day, but some how that thought slipped away as I was dealing with the fact that my income had just dropped by fifty percent and Christmas was coming and I wondered how I would make the mortgage and pay my electricity and phone. Forget about buying Christmas for my family. It was devastating...you have no idea. We managed to make it through Christmas and Taylor and I spent New Years on a trip to Memphis. On the weekend of Jan 20 or 21 we had a major ice storm and Taylor held up at his niece's house sleeping on a couch rather than coming to my house since his home had lost power for some time. We had plans to go see some Blues that following Monday so I just said we will put all this bullshit to the side and I am not missing the show. We made the trip the Atlanta for the show and then home. After we arrived home he had mentioned sex but it was three a.m. and I had to be at work at 8.a.m so I passed. Had I know it would the last time we would have sex, I certainly would have done it and probably called in sick. I had no idea it was the end. The end of us. The following weekend he finally got the balls up to tell me wanted a break. I assumed the break was to think a bit, but it was the end. The saddest part was how it affected me. In truth he had already moved on . He had been getting girls numbers for some time and been planning on ending our over five year relationship for some time. During this time, he would really bust my ass about the most rediculous things. I see you looking at that guy. Why don't you talk to him a little more. It was all part of his Psyche 101 glass that involved taking the emphasis off him and his actions by putting me on the defensive. In looking back I still feel such hurt that I cannot escape the sadness even now.

I have been to hell and it ain't pretty!

I am of course, referencing my stay in the "home for the terminally strange". Seems as though I was fighting a loosing battle to take myself off some prescription drugs. Withdrawal is a bitch! Who knew that you could get yourself in such a state from taking medication exactly as prescribed. I was fortunate enough to have a "friend" that was brutally honest and insensitive enough to give it to me straight. He said I was killing myself and he didn't have the time or inclination to watch. He was too busy and "Had not signed on for this." So with a heavy heart I go to my doctor and get her recommendation for taking myself off all medication...yeah right!!!!!!!!! I hadn't slept for about six weeks and just couldn't take it any more. So I asked for some help. I got it alright. Fuck me! That was the most miserable time of my life and I have delivered four children naturally! The chills...the sweating...let's not forget the nausea and vomiting. Yes, I did ask...as a matter of fact beg anything to ease my suffering...all I got was a shot in the ass that hurt, but would allow me to sleep for a couple of hours. After a few days I was no longer doing the vomiting thing and was able to keep a little food down. I looked like shit and felt worse. I lost down to 116 and am proud to say that I am now up to 123. I imagine most people's reaction to my desire to gain weight will be not appreciating my take on this matter, but they are entitled to their opinion. I am proud to say without question that at no time since my decision to no longer live my life in a chemically altered state have I resorted to taking any of the medication that I still have. There have been times as I was drifting off to sleep that I had such horrific panic attacks that I thought I would scratch my face off. I am no longer experiencing them. Thank you Jesus...thank you Lord! As tempting as the thought of gobbling down a xanax to ease this misery was, I never did. I refuse to ever go back to that dark and mysterious place. After the realization sunk in that I was living my life in a way that I could not live with it forced me to examine my life and think about how I felt and I realized that I spent my days numbed. I had no emotion. I hadn't raised my voice in over a year...never felt the passion or sadness, the highs and the lows that you are supposed to experience on a daily basis. I thought I was doing all of this in hopes of having a man that was my "friend" love me again, but I was wrong. I did it for me, no one else. Today, for the first time since I started the trip to hell, I am going back to the gym and getting "on" again. I am in training for the Cooper River Bridge Run. I have been doing it for a couple of years with my uncle who is in his late 70's. He kicks my ass every year, I am sure this year will be no different. He bowls three days a week and works out the rest. He is amazing! so I am off to feel the burn and get myself back to a place I can be proud of. Later

Sunday Dinner at Bennie's...

Goose Creek, SC ... 1 o'clock every Sunday without fail. Great food, interesting conversation and a light...make that healthy portion of crazy. The Zigzag boys are usually in rare form and the laughter flows out of the kitchen for most of the day. Broken up by a few curse words from the most excellent cook Linc. He has prepared food for the governor of South Carolina. So, if you are ever in the area please stop by for some great food and conversation that will make you appreciate your family in an entirely different way. Everyone is always welcome. Today's menu is as follows...Roast Pork Loin, Scalloped potatoes w/ham, harvard beets, turnip greens, canned corn, tossed salad, banana pudding, topped off by some of Patty's home made biscuits...so good that you will slap your momma and call your daddy a fool! Oh yes, lemonade and some good ole, sweet iced tea. See ya there...!

Hi...it's me.

I think there is something I should say. I realize most of my rantings sound a bit unhinged, that is just me. Know in my black, little heart I am good person who believes in Karma. so I wonder why I should have such bullshit in my life. I have tried to keep the negative out of my life I only wish I had the opportunity to lobotomize myself to avoid the recurring thoughts of a place no longer wish to be. I believe that kissing is the most important thing...sex...well sex is good, don't get me wrong, but in the words of someone I knew in a former life...once you get past the penis and vagina thing. A great kiss will take you places you've never been. Long, hot, wet, suck me kisses. That is my passion...how can you improve on that I ask you...? How can you improve on a great kiss? You can't! There was a man I once loved his name was Edward Taylor Harpe. He is a control freak with a massive inferiority complex. He destroyed me and left me for a person half his age.

Welcome to Lisa's ride on the manic highway!

On the recomendation of a friend I have created this blog hoping that putting my thoughts down will help me mend my broken heart. I am a lunatic. I know it, the people in my life know it and frankly my dear I don't give a damn if the entire world knows it. It is just who I am and I am okay with this information. I am a passionate person who loves easily and have been accused of morphing into the person I am with at the time. What the hell, I believe in not holding back. I refuse to live my life for someone else or to do things on anything other than my terms. You know...why hold back. If I give my all ,I will have no regrets. I do not wish to be the person who says if only I had given more...So if it is amazing for two days that is okay, because I know I gave my all and if it last longer I will know I did the right thing. I refuse to go gently into that good night...