Bipolar and I

2006 was the year that I entered the Marine Corps.

2007 was the year that I was Medically Discharged, HON.

Late 2007 is where is story begins:

April 2007:

It had been one month from being home and I was going stir crazy. I was not myself, I felt as though I was an epic failure for getting injured while I served for my family. I do not tell this story lightly, I am one who would rather forget this part of my life, but it keeps coming into fruition every day with the new and growing outlook that I have.

At the time, it seemed an impossible stretch to think I would be okay and survive, I was bound and determined to end it all right there that night.

“Suicide, taking your own life, is a tragic reaction to stressful life situations — and all the more tragic because suicide can be prevented. Whether you're considering suicide or know someone who feels suicidal, learn suicide warning signs and how to reach out for immediate help and professional treatment. You may save a life — your own or someone else's.”

--Suicide and suicidal thoughts - Symptoms and causes - Mayo Clinic

I was feeling lonely, like nothing mattered. At the time Tiffany and I had one child, she was born in November of 2005. She was still a bay when I came home that night. It was a long bus ride and the passengers in the bus were rather tame for a Greyhound Bus, there was no malarky or any wrongdoing at all, which of course was a nice part for me. Furthering onto this venture, my parents met me at the bus depot and after gathering my belongings I entered their vehicle and proceeded home, home, a new avenue for life. A life without the Corps.

After I arrived, my baby girl was waiting for me with open arms and I could not help but fall right then and there, it was like she remembered me, but how? I had been gone so long? It is rather amazing that she did, right up into my arms and happiness flowed for a while.

Not Giving too much away here:

2007 May:

My first experience with this new life. It started out as if there was nothing for me and I was at the end of my rope. There was no family, no children, no love from Tiffany, no nothing. I hated myself so much. One night in May, I was sitting on my parents be thinking to myself about how horrid my life was and how I should go about making it better, how to change my outlook on things.

That is when it hit me like a ton of bricks. Tiffany, Dad, Mom, Brother and all three (3) sisters looked at me and were telling me that I was not right, needed to calm down, relax some there was more important things to do then to mope about.

I did not see where I was at the time, but I know now that the end of my string, the last breaking point I had was about to be snapped in two…

That night, I sat there pondering what to do to better myself. I felt alone, no one could understand this or me, not one person in the house was like me. I was dealing with something that I did not understand, that is when it hit me…

Suicide…

My world was spinning violently, and I had little control as to what was happening to me and it needed to stop. I looked over at the Sawed-Off Shot Gun that my father had and looked away. I had always thought until that point that taking my own life was a coward’s way out, but right then and there, I discovered that I was wanting to take myself out of the equation. I no longer had any will to live. There was no hope for me, no one cared about me, I was the villain of my family, always doing something wrong, getting yelled at, screamed at, poked at, constantly plagues of rapid thoughts entered in and out of my brain till I no longer could take it.

So, sitting on the bed, I rose, took the few steps to the shotgun, and reached out for it. Took it off the hanger that it was dangling from and stared at it.

The barrel was cold, metal, rusted at different points and was in need for a cleaning. I found where my Dad hid the rounds.

I placed one in the chamber and snapped the weapon into place.

Stood tall, tears rolling down my face, but I was ready, there was no hope for me. No one loved me. I was alone to deal with the billions of thoughts that coursed through my mind. There was no one I could love anymore, Tiffany was gone, she hated me, my child hated me even though she could not express this. I felt like I had nothing.

I placed the barrel onto my chin…

Pulled back the hammer…

Sent out a final prayer to whomever, whatever God there was to save me, safety was what I wanted, love, help!

I was pressing gently on the trigger now my Dad walked into the room and screamed.

He ripped the weapon away from me and hugged me telling me, screaming at me that I should not do this, I was not alone.

He was there. Tiffany barged into the room and noticed the shotgun on the bed and cried wrapping herself around me.

That night, that awful night, the most powerful thing happened, I was heard and felt. I was not alone.

I called the Crisis Line and they sent me to the hospital for help.

Emerald Coast Hospital.

I was finally saved that night.

For anyone, everyone dealing with something, reach out, there is help. you are not alone. I was not, you are not, I am here with you.

This number is the Crisis Line: 1-800-273-8255

Call that when you are down. Reach out for help, there are answers there.