Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Five Minutes


The following post is my first entry into the yeah write challenge.   Faithful followers and new fans, please link back to the preceding post for an explanation of the below narrative. If you are interested in learning more about yeah write, check it out here: http://yeahwrite.me/okaformee/.  There are no holds barred below, and it gets really real just as promised because this is indeed a true story. Thanks for reading and bigger thanks for following this blog!
 
(Introduction not to be included in word count.)
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Five Minutes
 

Five minutes could change an individual’s life forever.

Five minutes early could mean that you find your spouse naked in your bed entangled in the limbs and grip of another woman.  Five minutes late could mean your boss spews curses and terminates you, salty tears now sliding down into your coffee.  Five more minutes could give you just enough time for the man of your dreams to stride coolly into the room and seat himself next to you.  For me, five minutes was all that was needed to save a life.  Sometimes I secretly possess the detestable wish that I had been held up at work, for I cannot be entirely certain that his was a life worth saving.

“Five more minutes, ma’am,” the EMT spoke to me,” Five more minutes and there wouldn’t have been much we could do here.  He would have been dead.” 

DEAD.  This was the last word of his suicide letter.  “You’re better off with me dead,” it read.  Maybe he’s right.  Just maybe he’s right this time.  This was my fucking awful thought as I sat alone in the emergency waiting room while my spouse was having his stomach pumped.  Between this terrible thought, the trembling, and the tears, I sat like stone and relived those few crucial minutes in my mind as though the memory had been burned onto a repeating cinema reel.   The pills.  The locked bathroom door.  The photographs all facing down.  His trembling body.  The 911 call.  The pills.  The note.  The bright lights and men arriving.  His eyes rolling slowly back in his head.  Sit up. Sit up.  Please sit up! The pills.

“The pills, ma’am,” the man questioned,” Do you know how many pills he took?  What kind?”

Three bottles. Antidepressants.  Maybe not the whole three bottles; some tablets were in the sink.  I don’t know.

“Ma’am?”  I had offered him no response.

“Three bottles of antidepressants.  Lexapro. Depakote.  Effexor.”

“His or yours?” he asked.  They belonged to each of us; we were a toxic match with our mental illnesses – each only compelling the other to further suffering rather than offering the expectant empathy that was so desperately needed.

But this shit; I couldn’t sympathize with this shit.  I didn’t even know the man who lay on that bed shaking and sobbing while complete strangers checked his vital signs.  That man on the bed was a fucking liar, a cheater, a thief; he was not the man I believed I had married.  I thought I was in love.  I fell too quickly.  I was young and my eyes weren’t wide open.  I could have blamed it on a million different little things – anything to avoid the straight truth that I was wrong.

“I don’t know if you really want this, but here,” said the EMT as he handed me a piece of paper that I quickly assumed was the suicide note.  I just wanted the man who had written this note to live then; I loved him so much.  I didn’t care what had been scribbled on that stupid fucking piece of paper.  I quickly shoved it deep into the pocket of my denim jeans.  I then removed my hand from my clothing and wrapped my fingers tightly around those of my love.

And then the lies came to light on the lines of what was intended to be his final goodbye.  Sitting in that waiting room, I had pulled the note from my pocket and read the contents in insane disbelief.  The truth had been revealed, and the truth was one ugly little fucker. 

He wasn’t really attending university.  His transcripts and admissions documents had all been completely fabricated.  He lost his job months and months ago.  His income was achieved through thievery by pawning off stolen goods.  He possessed a criminal record, outstanding financial debt, and an enormous desire to die. 

My life was a lie, and I had no damn idea until I read the hastily scribbled contents on a piece of college ruled notebook paper.  That same paper was now soaked with tears, and black mascara covered my soft cheeks that he had gently kissed so many times.  How had I not known?  Naïve little girl so desperate to be loved.  I initially blamed myself as much as I blamed him. 

What could I do?  Should I have run away from the hospital and left him alone to be transported to the ICU?  Should I have sought an annulment and played Pontius Pilate to the whole damn thing?  I stayed.  I stood by his side.  I thought I had forgiven him, and told him we could have a fresh start.  But he had fooled me once, and soon proved he could do it again.  And I stayed; I cried and cried endless nights.  I lay awake in bed with my deceitful spouse beside me and held a razor blade to my wrist just praying for the fucking courage to go through with what he had failed to successfully do.

I couldn’t be wrong; I wouldn’t be wrong.  I said “I do,” and I did; I did everything to make it work although an equal effort was never returned.  We yelled and we screamed, and the same shit I was screaming about just kept on happening.  He threatened suicide when I threatened to leave.  Then came the night he laid his hands upon me in violence.  He clenched his wretched fingers around my neck.  The next morning I left and never looked back. 

It didn’t take five minutes that time; I only needed a few seconds to put the keys in the ignition and leave that life of lies behind.  But I have wondered – would I have been better off with him dead? How would my life be different now?  What impact would that five minutes have made?  I will never know these answers, but I did learn that it’s more of a mistake to stay miserable than to admit you’re wrong and move on.  

<a href="http://yeahwrite.me/76-open"><img src="http://yeahwrite.me/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/familyfree76.pn
 

30 comments:

  1. Thanks for opening up about a part of your life few know about. I know I learned a thing or two. Great post!

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    1. Thanks for still loving me. I would put a heart icon here, but I don't know how. So ... smiley face. :)

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  2. Welcome to yeah write! This is such an emotional post-so honest about your feelings of wanting him to die vs wanting him to live. It couldn't have been easy to write. Well done (but I'm still a bit freaked out)! I am so glad you got out ok.

    Also, thanks for the nice comments on my post! It made my day. I'm a scientist, not a writer, so I'm working hard to improve. Yeah write has really helped. I take any feedback, even tips on how my posts could be better! I admire all of the English majors such as yourself-words seem to come so easily to you guys!

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  3. wow. powerful, moving, emotional stuff here.

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  4. Lots of emotion and real life here. Was this real? Nicely written.

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    1. Yes; this is a true story. If nothing else, I can tell you my ex-husband gave me a TON of writing material.

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  5. That was a fantastic story. Welcome to Yeah Write.

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  6. Oooh eeeee, we got a live one here! Great story. I couldn't decide if I wanted it to be true or fiction. I guess I am glad you survived. Ex-spouses are a curious lot. I loved the dialogue and the intensity. Welcome to yeah write.

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  7. Wow. Really great post. My husband interrupted my sleepy medicine to make me read this . I didn't really feel like reading it (I was busy!) but once I started I couldn't stop. Great tension. Welcome!

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  8. Holy fucking fuck, you weren't kidding about the anger or the language. Superb post.

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  9. Welcome to Yeah Write! And, holy cow, what a night! Glad you're on the other side now...

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  10. WOW!! You almost just made my post happy. Well, good for you for being brave and coping and moving on. Wow! Crazy!!! Good writing, emotional and honest.
    Welcome.

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  11. Welcome to Yeah Write! I think you'll like us! :-)

    What a gut wrenching story. I can't imagine discovering those hidden truths about my husband. You are awesome.

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  12. Wowza! What a tough situation for you to be in

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  13. This is quite the story. My mom attempted suicide once while I was growing up. Another time I found one of her notes stashed in the hallway magazine rack. It was scary.

    Mental illness is a beast.

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    1. Indeed. Mental illness truly is a beast. Unfortunately, it is still highly stigmatized. Too many folks think they need to hide their illness, and people need to open up and move beyond that shame. I am so sorry you had to experience that with your mother. I think that would be far more difficult. I could divorce my spouse; mothers are forever.

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  14. Hi, Angela, and welcome!

    I applaud you for your honesty and courage in sharing this story. I found your writing powerful, engaging and candid.

    This line really struck me: "They belonged to each of us; we were a toxic match with our mental illnesses – each only compelling the other to further suffering rather than offering the expectant empathy that was so desperately needed."

    I also really liked the ending. Great job tying it all together.

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  15. Great post! I love fast paced stories that still give me the details I need to visualize what's happening (I hate getting bogged down in details.) You certainly did this here!

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  16. I think our ex-husbands might have been related. Mine didn't try to kill himself (I had to try NOT to kill HIM), but he was an excellent liar and thief.

    I like the way you call yours a detour. I would have liked mine to be a speed bump, but whatev.

    A very compelling story.

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  17. oof. wow. i felt all of these emotions running right out of that night and into your fingers and onto the screen. fantastic work, even if i'm sorry they had to be a part of your history. Welcome to the YeahWrite family :)

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  18. Can I unclench my fists now??? Wow. Welcome to YeahWrite, and way to start off with a bang. Very descriptive and raw in your telling. Nice job, on a post that cannot have been easy to put out there. Kudos.

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  19. Welcome to the Yeah Write community, and um, AWESOME. Amazing. Moving. All of the good things.

    I could relate to this so much because I come from a bit of a troubled past myself. Thanks for being so vulnerable. I'm looking forward to reading more :)

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  20. Because I'm too lazy to reply individually ... thank you all so much for your feedback and kind words. They are greatly appreciated!!

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  21. Very very honest post. I love the way you pose the question about the intersection of fate and decisions. Well done and welcome to Yeah Write!

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  22. Welcome to Yeah Write! Way to hit it your first time out! Powerful, gut-wrenching story, beautifully told. Thank you for sharing it.

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  23. Great post! Can I enlist you as my editor? I have tons of material. I am not a writer but I am trying! And, I want to be! This gives me the courage to go below the surface and come up with what's sunk to the bottom of my very soul.

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    1. Thank you! I am so happy to hear that opening up about my own shitty situations can help others cope with theirs. That is truly awesome. And I would be happy to help out with writing advice. You can also contact me at ascha613@hotmail.com. Hopefully it doesn't get lost in the junk mail along with all my messages from random dating services. I have used "sweep" about 20 different times, and that spam shit still shows up.

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  24. Hot DAMN that was on fire. I absolutely love the raw honesty of wondering if you would be better if he had died. So I'll answer you with a truth.

    My sister killed herself four and a half years ago now.
    We are all better off.

    She had bipolar, but then, so do I. (Though I'll freely admit, she was in a worse place than I was.) She self medicated with drugs, and she had already tried to kill herself four other times. When she finally succeeded, it ended a long custody battle that my Mom was fighting to save my niece. It ended the strings of false calls to the authorities claiming abuse. (Her boyfriend had learned to recognize her moods and get out and get with other people so that he could say he was not there when she claimed he was and have multiple witnesses to back him up.) She lied. She stole. She had robbed some three thousand dollars from my Mom and Mom had prosecuted, hoping to force her into rehab. But she killed herself when she lost the court case.

    And we are all better off.

    So I understand your question, and I think that the real answer is that you are better off NOW with him behind you, and that he'll have to deal with his own sorry screwed up life. You did the only thing you could have done, because better off or no, what human would turn away from a suicide when they might be saved?

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    1. Thank you so much for your great and honest response. I think it's wonderful what opening up can do -- allow others to be honest about things most people would hide. Bipolar is the mental illness that I suffer from too. It can be some crazy shit. He was clinically depressed and I believe he had multiple personality disorder. I thought he "got me." As hypocritical as it may seem, I later realized I couldn't be in a serious intimate relationship with anyone who suffered from a mental illness. Later, in the part that just talks about me screaming and the same shit happening, my ex-husband claimed he was putting the bills in the mail and paying the landlord. I let him do errands because I worked two full time jobs (6-2 and then 3-11). I came home early one day before he got the mail. I found out he had been hiding overdue bill statements from me and had not paid the rent, so I found an eviction notice on the door. I had to pay all that so we had a place to live and the power didn't get shut off, and the checks for the bills had been changed to "cash" and he used them for God knows what. He ended up stealing about $3,000 from my checking too. It can absolutely be exhausting and no doubt I am better off now. Thanks for sharing; I wish you all the best.

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  25. Oh. My. Well, my heart goes out to you. And I may have dated the same guy. Yeah. Lethal combo is right.

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