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Shitting Briquettes.

Shitting Briquettes.

Shitting Briquettes.

I awoke today to the news that Robin Williams died, but he really didn’t die now, did he? He took his own life. He killed himself. Is a suicide more or less tragic than a natural causes death? How about death from an accident, or a murder? I do believe almost all passing to be tragic. I say almost because I am a firm believer in euthanasia for terminally ill people. What kind of society are we that we won’t let our pets suffer, we take them to the vet where they get a shot that allows them to go to sleep. We will let our people rot, bedridden, robbed of their pride and modesty and get hidden away in a “Retirement Village”. I find suicide to be particularly sad. I will admit some of this is selfish as I have been there. I didn’t just cry because Robin Williams robbed us of his genius, I cried because his life had become so hard, so sad, and so bleak that he just couldn’t do it anymore. He was tired and saw no future. I have lost friends due to suicide and had a sister, who was bipolar, attempt suicide many times. I am sharing with you something that very few people know about me and that is,  I not only considered suicide, I attempted it and was almost there. If friends hadn’t called 911 in time I would not be boring you now. I once called a friend from my bathroom, as I was speaking with her I had a razor blade in my hand. I had cried so hard I literally cried my contact lenses out of my eyes. I haven’t seen this girl, now woman, for years and I’ll bet she’ll never know she saved me that night. The more successful attempt landed me in the ER with a belly full of alcohol and prescriptions. I actually remember very little of that night although I do remember waking up the next day in the hospital. My cheeks burned with embarrassment at my foolishness. My mouth was black with charcoal, the tell tale signs of a stomach pump. I just wanted to leave. I didn’t want to be there. The nurse came in and looked at me with open disdain. I told her, quite vehemently, I wanted to leave. She muttered “Well I knew this would happen”. She said I could not leave. I asked if at least they could help me just sleep. I believe she knew that I was going to be a huge pain in the ass so she gave me an injection and I slept. The doctor I worked for found out of my attempted suicide so he fired me, because you know the best and kindest thing you can do for a suicidal person is to fire them. Asshole, with a capital A. The only other 2 things I will tell you about that time is that I was lucky my neurologist had a crush on me and I was able to talk him out of a 72 hour hold, I found out I was one of many as he almost lost his license for being quite the Romeo. The second thing I will let you in on is this, after you have your stomach pumped and charcoal has been forced down your throat, is that you will shit charcoal black for a few days. Looking back, I understand the nurses disdain. This woman worked every day with people who were dying, children who were dying, and here I was trying to give away what so many others were fighting so hard for. She, like many people, view suicide as a selfish, cowardly act. I know what it feels like on the other end. The helpless, hopelessness. You don’t see anything good. It’s a horrid, tortuous feeling. I’ve had much physical pain in my life and none will ever compete or compare to that soul sucking, dark black hole of nothing. Robin gave us many laughs and some soul baring, beautiful acting. I believe Robin gave us so much it left him empty. RIP Mr. Williams and Thank you for sharing.

Written by Theodosia Honeybleu

All tales are based in truth. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. I have nothing to sell but everything to share. What a strange trip it's been, indeed.

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