A Day in the Life...

I realize that there are not too many "Day in the Life" stories that are all that interesting. Perhaps if it is about the President or a combat soldier or an Er doctor at a busy hospital it may grab a readers attention. I am merely a tired, miserable, Jack of all trades-Master of none, inebriate who has really done nothing remarkable with the possible exception of donating DNA to the cutest 7 year old you have ever seen. Nonetheless, if you will indulge me for a while, you may just read something that might save your life. I want to tell you the story of the day I attempted suicide. The names will be changed to protect the innocent if necessary but the places and events shall be exactly as they happened save perhaps a few minor embellishments for the sake of entertainment. An entertaining suicide attempt? C'mon folks, you know me well enough now. You had to know if I ever tried to go out, I would do it with style. I am honestly NOT trying to make light of the situation. I am merely dealing with it as best I know how. With humor. I hope that this narrative will shed some light on chemical dependency, bi-polar disorder, signs from God and talking to inanimate objects.







I cannot say the day started out like any other. In fact, it was one of the most bizarre mornings I ever experienced. Without going into great detail (as it would do you no good to explain how I got where I was) I found myself wandering around downtown Phoenix in the wee hours of that Friday morning. It was surreal. Watching a big city wake up like that. One minute you go from dark empty streets to streets filled with cars, people and activity. It was really something. It was really something incredible. I was amused and scared at the same time. It was quite a thrill. I wandered around the streets for a while. Looking for, I don't know what. Perhaps a place to sleep. Perhaps a place to help me get some of the thoughts of hopelessness and suicide out of my rattled and confused brain. I knew in my heart of hearts that suicide was inevitable. I knew how I was going to do it. I knew that it was this day. Bar none. No ifs, ands or buts. Just didn't know when. Initially I found myself at the Salvation Army chapel. Hoping the doors would be open so I could get some help. Instead of walking into open arms of safety and salvation, I found the place locked up and gated up tighter than Fort Knox. Scrap that idea. Fuck them! Their marquee out front said something to the effect of, " Give Satan an inch and he will become your ruler." I laughed under my breath at this. I suppose from a religious perspective that was exactly what I was doing. I was giving Satan those few inches so he could take over for me. Don't know why that tickled me so much. Anywho, I moved on. Walked to the YMCA. You know, "It's fun to stay at the Y-M-C-A!!!" Yeah, well, that is if you can figure out which door to go in. I walked in the wrong door and ended up walking into the lobby of their Gym, surrounded by workout junkies with their MP3 players, short shorts, and gym bags swirling around me at 100mph. Had to piss so I asked the girl at the front desk if I could use the restroom that was all of 7 feet from her. Nope. Not without a membership. So much for the friendly place glorified by the Village People. So, I sat in the quaint little coffee shop attached to the gym, listening to the Pink Floyd CD that the coffee shop employee was playing. Just sat there. Just was. Was is the past tense of be. I was not being. I was was-ing. After several minutes of achieving nothing, really needing to take a leak and charge up my phone I set out to find...Starbucks. The only place I could think of where I could plug in and hang out without anyone caring. During my respite, I was able to relieve myself, watch the morning hustle and bustle and send off a goodbye text to my mother. The response was not favorable and I was in no mood to be talked out of my plan by someone who actually cared. So, when the tears started to flow uncontrollably, I moved on to seek out friendlier skies. Not long after passing the B of A building and the Phoenix Convention Center, I found myself at St. Mary's Basilica. There I stood in front of this beautiful building. Full of hope, I stood at the bottom of the steps, wondering if beyond those doors my "sign" awaited. I walked in and was immediately was taken aback by the beauty I was beholding. Everything I thought it would be and more. I was humbled. I was hopeful. I sat in the last pew, pulled down the kneeling thingy, knelt down and started to bawl. Bawling is not even the word. More like blubbering. I was almost reduced to wailing when I decided to start talkin' to Jesus. The Christ figure hung above the pulpit so gloriously, I was certain he would fly down from his place and sit next to me. I could almost feel his loving arm around my shoulder, comforting me. No flying Jesus for me. So I turned my attention the Blessed Virgin Mary in hopes that a feminine touch was what I needed.... She ignored me as well. I started blubbering again. Louder this time. I continued this for several minutes when suddenly I heard the doors behind me open. I immediately stopped the severe crying and toned it down to a light whimper. I did not want to disturb some poor parishioner who was just looking for some peaceful, prayerful meditation before their bust day at work. I didn't know who it was so I maintained a level that was acceptable. I stiffened in my seat and waited for them to pass. After about 30 seconds, when no one passed, I sheepishly looked around. To my surprise it was a priest!!! I was sure this was my "sign!!!" A man of God here to save me. I started blubbering again to get his attention and waited for his hand on my shoulder and the obvious question of, "Are you alright, my son?" Not a chance, people. No such luck. He puttered around a bit, wandering the interior perimeter of the Basilica and just as effortlessly as he waltzed in, he was gone. My sign, gone. My hope, fading. My chance at not attempting suicide, off to do whatever it is priests do (no, people, I will not be throwing out an altar boy comment at this time). Blubbered out, I was just about to get up and leave when I heard the door open once again.... I just KNEW this was it!! My savior incarnate was about to walk through those doors and pull me from my Hell... heh heh.... not a fucking chance.... heh heh.... Instead it was many people, snapping pictures and babbling in some foreign language I guessed to be Russian. These folks meandered around being led by a tall, white-haired dude in shorts and a T-shirt. He brazenly walked right right up on the pulpit and started speaking to the group. I thought that was pretty ballsy for a tour guide until he stepped out a side door and returned moments later in full priest garb. The "tour guide" was a freakin' priest! Not wanting to be rude, I stayed as long as I could. Standing, sitting, kneeling and chanting in Russian (I guess). After about 10 minutes I felt as though this was NOT my sign so I slipped out the back door and went down the steps. It is at this point that I was able to abscond the pills that would be necessary for my attempt. Where and how I got them, for the purpose of this blog, shall remain a secret. Honestly, it's not that important. I got 'em. I had 'em. I planned to take 'em. It's it and that's that. Once I had them in my possession I made my way back to St. Mary's. Not sure why. I must have felt as though I was not ready to do the deed without giving the God thing one more try. A "last hoorah" you might say. After my dismal and disappointing attempt at finding a sign INSIDE the church, I turned my attention to the OUTSIDE. Nestled comfortably between the Basilica and the Diocese is a grassy/fountain/statue park. Several shade trees dot the nice little area making it perfect to sit and relax. If you can ignore the ants. Which I did. I picked out a nice tree directly across from a bronze statue of St. Francis of Assisi. He was posed kneeling in front of some birds on the ground, apparently feeding them. I sat and stared into his blank eyes for a few moments. Then I spoke to him. Out loud. For anyone to hear. I said, "So Frankie, I need a sign. Gimme somethin'. Wiggle a finger. Blink an eye. Say something profound. Make one of these birds fly..." Give you one guess as to what happened next..... If you guessed nothing, you would be incorrect. Something DID happen. No, the statue did not move. No bronze birdies taking flight. Instead, a homeless woman (she was a textbook example of a bag lady, btw) began shouting, "Father, Father!!" I figured it was not her actual Daddy so I turned around. Lo and behold.... Another priest!!!! Put on your game face, Big Man!!!! This is it!!!! Blubber a bit. Talk to Frankie some more. He is bound to come over after the bag lady is done bending his ear. Especially if you look distressed! I heard the priest say a few "god Bless You's" to the lady and I was CERTAIN this was it!!!! I waited for the comforting hand of the priest to rest on my shoulder. I knew he was going to be my saving grace.... After about 30 seconds of nothing, I turned around..... Gone.... Disappeared.... Nowhere to be seen..... Vanished into thin air..... I was sure that this last snub was God giving me the finger. "Fuck you, Fat Boy!!!!! Go ahead and kill yerself!!!!! Look at the wreckage you have left behind you!!!!! I, GOD, command you to do it!!!!!" Well, that was what I was hearing in my head, not what he was really saying..... You know me..... But how could it be anything else? "Oh God!!!!! Why hast thou forsaken me?" Famous words from a famous book..... I was feelin' it. Totally. Forsaken. Ignored. Left to die. Left with no other choice. Truth be known? I was ready. As I mentioned earlier, I was convinced that this was the ONLY solution. There was NO other way. So, when I looked around and saw there was no one watching, I put the stolen pills, all 10 of them, in my mouth and washed them down with my Dr. Pepper. I sat under that tree, across from St. Frank for about 20 minutes. Nothing was happening. Nada. Zilch. Zip. What the fuck????? I took 1 of these pills at half the strength and I was on my ass. How come they weren't working that quickly now????? Goddammit!!!!! Can't even get this right!!! Frustrated, I stood up and lit a cigarette. I walked over to the water jugs provided by the Catholic Church for the homeless so as to get some water to combat the cotton mouth. As I approached the water, a man wearing a Deacon name badge walked up to me and said "You know those things will kill you, right?" No shit. Word for word. Verbatim. Obviously I was a tad taken aback. What the fuck was this man talking about? Had he seen what I had done? Did he know my terrible secret? Was he going to save me? Was he going to stop me from dying????? No dammit!!!!! I didn't want that!!!! Then it dawned on me. He was just pontificating to me on the dangers of smoking. I had to laugh under my breath. I could not help but think, "They won't kill me quicker than the pills I just swallowed, ASSHOLE!!!" Alas, I refrained from saying this and opted for some polite comment about needing to quit someday soon. I started to walk away when he gently grabbed my arm, and with outstretched hand said, "Here you go." In his hand was an assortment of coins. Pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters. At first, I was confused. What was this man doing? Then it dawned on me. He thought I was homeless. He measured me up to be a bum. A beggar. A street person. Granted, I had not showered that morning but I was quite sure I didn't stink. I was not dressed in rags. Had a nice polo and my beige cargo shorts on, neither of which was stained. What had I projected that caused this man to think me homeless? Was it the desperation in my eyes? No way! I had sunglasses on. He could not have seen redness or swelling around my eyes that would indicate drunkenness. Did I reek of death as some homeless are apt to do? Must have been the death smell thing. Whatever it was, it kinda made me sad. Is this what I had been reduced to? Is this how the world saw me? Was this how I was to go out? Either way, I politely turned down his offer knowing I would not need his change where I was going.... Where was that exactly? Heaven? Hell? Wherever I was headed I just wished I would get there quickly. Now, this is where the story gets funky. Some have called the events that follow "my sign." Some have said it was my "will to live" that is inherent in all humans. Whatever it was, it is why I am writing this today. Okay. Here it goes... After the Deacon walked away, my first instinct was to walk my ass back to St. Frank and the shade tree. Sit down and tell ol' Francis to kiss my rosy red ass!!! Then I would just fall asleep under the tree. A deeeep sleep, as it were. No one would be the wiser. I was just a bum sleeping in the park. That was my first instinct. Not the instinct I followed though. No siree. I followed my second instinct which was, get this, to walk. That's right, walk. Where? Dunno. Why? Dunno. Just know I started walking. Eastbound on Van Buren. I got to 7th street and made it across just fine. Where was I going? What was I hoping to accomplish? I was not 100% sure but in the back of my now very cloudy mind it ran that there were hospitals this way. That must have been it. Hospitals. They would help me, right? Wait, I didn't want help..... I wanted to die..... Then..... Black...... Everything went black...... No white light. No tunnels. No family members waiting with open arms to help me cross over..... Just black.....

I have no idea how much time had passed before the blackness was interrupted. It could have been a matter of minutes. It could have been hours. It really didn't matter how long it was. What mattered was that the blackness was disturbed. This meant one thing. I was not dead. I had failed in my attempt. The blackness was replaced by a face.A paramedic or fire fighter's face. Didn't make no never mind to me. I didn't care what branch of the life-saving brigade this guy was from, he represented failure to me. My failure. My inability to complete yet another task. Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit, Dammit!!!!!!!! I know I should have been grateful with this development. However, gratitude was the farthest thing from my mind. Fortunately the blackness returned quickly. Very quickly. Almost as suddenly as it had appeared the first time. Perhaps it was permanent this time.... Not!!! Again, some unknown amount of time passed as I was in the blackness. Next thing I knew, I was staring at a pony-tailed man. I assumed him to be an Er doctor. What worried me was that damn pony-tail. I was sure it was going to flop in my mouth. I shall never know if it did because the blackness returned once again. Many minutes, possibly hours, once again had passed. The next thing I knew, there was a young woman with black hair and an unidentifiable accent fussing over me. It was evident to me that I was in a hospital bed. What hospital though? What time was it? Man, I was hungry, too!!!!! Once I gathered my thoughts, I formed the previous questions and concerns into words. I was in St. Luke's Hospital Intensive Care Unit, it was 3 am on Friday night, Saturday morning, and food was on it's way. Wow, that was a lot to swallow. Instead of trying to process it all, I went numb. "Dinner" came rather unceremoniously. I finished it quickly and decided to, once and for all, put an end to this "Day in the Life." I decided to create my own blackness. I went to sleep.

There it is. Love it or leave it. Stupid choice. No other way to say it. Selfish, self-absorbed and cowardly. I realize I was going to shed light on Chemical Dependency in this blog so I guess I could do that right now.... Put your sunglasses on.... Here it goes..... I have both!!!! Never knew it. I knew I had problems with alcohol and some drugs but I never imagined it was a Chemical Dependency. Nor was I aware that I was severely Bi-Polar and that folks with this affliction tend to gravitate towards chemicals as an escape from the nightmare they live. They are also REALLY good liars. That is not to say I have lied during the production of this blog. I have not. Most honest I have been in a long ass time. Just ask Dr. Agudo. She thinks the meds are working just fine.... heh heh.... Okay, Doc..... heh heh....