I was rejected again, by someone who said they loved me. For the first time in years, a breakup didn’t had me feeling miserable or angry – It made me go numb. It reminded me of the time my birth parents gave me up for adoption only a few months after I was born (at least that’s what I’ve been told). This break up told me that “if your parents didn’t want you, how could you expect anybody else to want you in their lives?”
I have had suicidal thoughts often in the past, but my adoptive (I hate the word) mom’s face came in front me every single time I contemplated suicide. But that day I thought enough of making her my excuse for the courage I didn’t have to perform the act.
I went home after work (I work the night shift), drank some whiskey and sent out text apologies to those I felt I had hurt in the past and most of them responded. Some called, but I refused to answer them. One of my closest friends texted back asking me to pick up the phone or he’d come rushing to my place and break down the door if he had to.
Maybe I didn’t want to die, maybe I needed someone to hear my cries for help, and we spoke for an hour or so. I couldn’t tell anyone about the breakup because it was a secret affair, but I knew he wasn’t the only reason I was feeling so miserable –It was my birth father who had abandoned me and my birth mom. We spoke only about my adoption issue and nothing else. I dozed off at around 2 AM, feeling slightly better.
The next day brought back the feelings of rejection, of being unloved and unwanted. I had enough of trying to gain sympathy and acting I was suicidal and not acting on it. I was ashamed. So I headed down to medical stores and brought some pills. Sadly, each pharmacist only gave me a few, so I had to hop from one store to the other, but still didn’t have enough I guess. I know I didn’t want to die, I just wanted to let everyone know that I was hurting tremendously. Hurting so much that ending my life seemed like the easier way to relief the pain and maybe end it altogether.
I sent my friend a last text telling him how embarrassed I was of not acting on my suicidal thoughts and turned off my phone. I had already written an incomplete suicide note earlier in the day, but I never mentioned the cause of the pain. It didn’t feel right to blame anyone for how miserable I was feeling. I took the pills, and took out my suicide note and continued to scribble on it as long as I could. I started to get drowsy, my hands stopped scribbling and my head fell on the table. I thought maybe this way I’ll die in my sleep and feel less physical pain. But my friend arrived with more friends. They rang on the doorbell several times before I could reach to open it. They started shouting at me but it was all a haze, I couldn’t make out what they were saying and I didn’t care at that time. They tried to take me to the hospital, but suicide is illegal in India and I didn’t know what they’d tell the doctors, or maybe they’d refuse to treat me. I told them in slurred words that I don’t think I took enough pills to kill me.
I passed out after a while and my other friends came early in the morning. I had survived my lame attempt at suicide. But my body was in tremendous pain. I was aching all over, I tossed and turned and couldn’t sleep. My friends massaged my back and my legs till I finally went off to sleep.
I had scared everyone and soon many others learnt what I had tried to do. People came to meet me throughout the day and I was just too embarrassed to tell them when they asked what was bothering me. My affair and my adoption were both secrets I held close to my heart and not being able to talk about either one of those multiplied the pain inside me.
But I met a psychiatrist a few days later, who diagnosed me with depression and anxiety, and I’m on happy pills now, which haven’t got a chance to make me happy because it’s only been a week since I started them. I am just drowsy most times of the day.
Even if it was one of the most extreme steps I had taken in my life, I looked deep within me and realised that a love affair gone wrong wasn’t what was hurting me, it was the pain of being abandoned at birth by those who were supposed to love me, and the cycle of being abandoned continued with every broken relationship. I knew I had to fix the root, and so I reached out to my half-sister a few days ago.
To be continued…
Cover pic courtesy tinybuddha.com
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