Purple Hibiscus

Sitting in the driver’s seat of my silver Suzuki SX4, parked in our closed garage, lights out. Pitch black. At thirty-five years of life, my Suzuki is the only thing I have to show for any accomplishment. More tears filled my eyes, I did not even earn or buy this car, it was a gift from my father. Granted the gift came from a time I was doing well for myself and he wanted to help ensure I was safe when I was driving for work. Yet, it was in my name and mine alone. I gave up everything to get married and take a chance on a new direction. Thus, it felt right that it would be the only place fitting to end it all. In my lap sat my black 9mm Smith and Weston compact handgun. “This is it,” I thought to myself, “this time it really will be my end, no more changing my mind, just let go.” But, I am terrified. I do not want to, rather I feel I have to unburden those around me. I feel useless.

In my youth, I often thought of death and the endless state of peace I could achieve in stillness. No more feeling lost, no more feelings of loneliness, no more aching pain of something missing that I feared I would never find. “You’ll never be happy.” Those words ran through my head on repeat. Spoken to me by a paramour who even through abuse and hatred seemed to know me better than anyone I have ever known. How could my world be torn into such a state of disaster? For each piece that fit, there were a dozen that shifted out of place. Death appeared to be the only solution. Tears rolled down my cheeks, large, hot, silent tears. Yes, I was afraid. For me, what comes next is absolutely nothing, as I fade into the darkness for eternity. Of this I feel certain. I long for it and fear it in the same instant. I gave up. On myself.

My daughter popped into my mind. Crystal. I cannot leave and not know if she will be okay. I grab my cell phone and called my husband who is upstairs in our bedroom. He went to bed angry with me again. I have not felt the same about the relationship and yet I felt trapped. Dependent and isolated. He answered my call but I was unable to speak. Only a sob came out when I tried to open my mouth to tell him to take care of her. I was frozen in emotion. Somehow he seemed to know and found me even though I said nothing. I did not fight back. Just cried. I did not want to die, nor did I want to live. I was even more afraid of failing the attempt and end up living maimed.

I agreed to seek help. The next morning I let my husband take me to the hospital where I shared my suicidal ideation and was admitted to the psychiatric ward. I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know what to think. I was always the one helping people and here I was broken down and weak. Burnt out and exhausted, I still just wanted to disappear and forget I existed. The first night I panicked. Feared that I would never be let out again, would not be able to hold my daughter again. In the end, it took 10 days to be released. I was too embarrassed to face people in my life. Surely, this is a negative stain that one cannot overlook in the future. Of everything I hoped to achieve, I felt it slip to impossibility now, great hope had now become great despair.

Being on the other side of the glass pressed my pride in place for all to see. It was embarrassing to me, but then reality set in, no one cares. Oh my. What does that really mean? “No one cares.” Suddenly I felt invisible. The reality that I am nobody, really. I worked in human services for my entire adult life and now I see why people were so taken by actions of kindness. What does it feel like to be someone’s job? To watch someone hurry with their notes to make sure they have something good to write rather than care about what you are saying. This was awful, but there were some good people too doing what they could where they could. However, for me it was a time to see from another perspective. There is very little actual help being given to anyone. Yet for me it was a breakthrough. I had no idea what to do with my insight but I was definitely going to get a tattoo, finally. Previously, indecision and commitment prevented me as I tried to please everyone else around me. This was the first action for myself. Something for me, to make myself happy.

My tattoo is of a purple hibiscus. I am from Hawaii and the flower reminds me from home. The color Purple was the closest we could get to my favorite color which is Indigo. On top the flower is a monarch butterfly which is commonly found and one wing has an area where it is disintegrating as to show my struggles with staying around in this world. Then the whole image is splashed with color as is the story of my life feels, “inky.”