July 25, 2004
The Angel of Death
Throughout my life, I am sure that I have been blessed with Angels watching over me and guiding me through difficult and dangerous times. I think of Jenny as an Angel and Peter as one too. I was about to experience a new kind of Angel. One which I did not welcome, but had no control over. I sailed through life, 21, 22, 23 having a ball. All my health problems were behind me. I had been involved in various relationships, some lasting just a month, some lasting up to a year. Now, having had these relationships, you would think that I would realize that my view on my appearance was totally different to others.
I have always had that problem, that too look at me you wouldn't know I had any health problems, not unless you looked at my back or chest closely. But I had years of self confidence issues, paranoia about my scars and rib hump, that it were stored in my brain as fact. I have had further two small operations from 21 to 23. One to remove six ribs for cosmetic reasons to allow them to grow back into a normal shape. That did not work. I also had an operation to remove the metal clips from my chest that were in place since 1976 and were sticking out of my chest like gold nuggets trying to break out of my skin. Again for cosmetic reasons. Another relationship ended and I spent many night pondering on the entirety of my life, looking at myself in the mirror and I was disgusted with me. I even thought I was being punished for something to have to have to go through all these things. I sank into a place where only the Devil enjoyed. I was a good actor. I could disguise my deepening mood at work and at home. One dark day I had severe thoughts of killing myself. It was the right thing to do. I wasn't ever going to be married or have children, which is something I so very much wanted. After all, who is going to want me? I would always be unable to enjoy swimming or walk around feeling the breeze against my skin. My life was one of pain, broken hearts, in more ways than one, and dissapointment.
By the time I reached 24, I was at my lowest ever. One day seemed a good day to die. I took lots of pills, two bottles of night nurse (don't ask me why!) and went to bed. For god's sake, I woke up in the morning!! I took half a pharmacy. I should be dead! I had no bad head, no bad stomach, nothing!! So of coure I felt worse. I couldn't even accomplish that. I tried again. This time a sure fire way. I took a knife and slashed into my artery where the dip in your elbow is. I laid there on the bed, blood flowing. It wouldn't be long now. Then someone walked into my house and found me. I told them I had had an accident. They called an ambulance and I was sticthed up. Asked a few 'suicide' questions, fooled the doctor and came back home, in quite bad pain. I could hide the dressing, my arms were never on display anyway.
A week or so later I just packed a few things, left a note to my mum saying I was going away to kill myself and left. It was strange that day. I wasn't me. I was someone else. I felt as if I was being led by someone. I caught a flight to Spain and left the country. Booked into a hotel and found the biggest knife I could. I was going to slash my wrists and jump off the balcony. Two hits are better than one. I decided I would have one last day on earth, have a drink, explore the town a bit. That night in a bar I met a young woman who it turns out was working with my old best friend from first and middle school. I sat for ages talking to her, asking about him and his family and sharing stories from the old home town. We danced and even had a little kiss or two! I felt free and I felt detached from the world. If someone had come up to me that night and offered me drugs, i would of taken them, even though I have never ever and still to this day not touched any kind of drug. Or if a street merchant had asked me to have my picture taken with a tarantula or a cobra, I would of done it! I don't remember much except arriving back in the UK, having been away for over 2 weeks.
I was met by the police as the plane landed. They had been looking for me. The Spanish police had been involved and here I was. I was taken to see my GP and they wanted to take me into the hospital. I begged my mum not to let them. I had been running away from hospitals all my life. It was agreed that i would see a doctor at home 3 times a week to start with and I was prescribed the new wonder drug of the day. Prozac. I sat legs under my chin for days, weeks, just crying and crying. I had a wondeful doctor. I say he reprogrammed me. My mentality today is so different from my previous years. I am a new man. I'm sure in my darkest hours the angel of death was with me waiting to take my soul, but as before in all the days I needed someone to see me through, there was this old friend of a friend, there to help me. Amazing.
Now, I don't worry what people think. I say take me as I am or not at all. If someone is talking about me they are leaving some other person alone. I am what I am. I have fought to be me and my heart is better than a lot of people out there. I have true love to give. One day an angel of marriage may come my way, but at least for now, I can say I am no longer ashamed of my body , no longer feel inferior or worry if people are talking about me.
I have a very small circle of friends now, that are true friends and I can walk around with no top on with them and they think nothing of it as nor do I. So this is where I end my trip down memory lane and start to tell you about my most recent days and life. 34 years was a lot to catch up on! I was 34 this June (2004). I have a new outlook on life and am looking forward to a holiday in August. But life can be cruel, as I recently found out.
Posted by Lee on July 25, 2004 04:17 AM