Suicide and survival: A truce ends

Asshole 7″ (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

fair warning to readers: some may find the subject of this series upsetting or disturbing.

In the prequel to this and to the series “From ‘nice guy’ to ‘asshole’ and(hopefully) back again: a pissing match with God“, Part One to be found here , yours truly pontificates rather self-consciously about his ongoing pissing match with the Almighty (and with himself). This series will delve into the truces which put temporary halts to the battles. Two out of three of these truces ended with me attempting to end my life.

The more recent of these attempts occurred as recently as this month (October, 2012).

These decisions to end my life were not taken lightly, nor were they made under the duress of the typical sufferings one usually associates with suicide.

I wasn’t clinically depressed. I hadn’t experienced any major loss – at least not in the usual sense.

I’d attempted to die with my eyes wide open. You might say these attempts were executed in a fairly rational, straightforward way.

The first attempt was meant to protect others. The second to avoid an unacceptable life un befitting any rational human.

Both of these attempts served purposes which, ultimately, were positive.

The more recent of which led, in a round about way, to a better understanding of the first – and to an understanding of why I’d become such an angry asshole. It led to my discovering that I had to become an asshole in order to understand the events surrounding those first, painful grasps at Self when I essentially stared God (as well as myself) in the face and told Him (and myself) how righteously pissed off I was.

The more distant suicide attempt, now fifteen years past, was an apology of sorts. Dying was a means to avoid causing those I cared about further pain and suffering stemming from what was (even then) a years long fight. It was also – and this is where the cowardice of some suicides comes to play – a means to avoid knowing and understanding what had happened in a seemingly mundane, smoky kitchen.

Before “Asshole” arrived I couldn’t know how completely that “Nice Guy” had promised himself to a distant Love and to an unspoken Truth. It was the job of my “Asshole” self to show me.

Asshole got this opportunity with a chance meeting and a bit of partying in a very-different-than-he’d-known-before smoky room; Asshole also got his opportunity by doing a half year penance spent in homelessness and by swallowing a belly full of pills.

In a three part post series “What’s the frequency, really?” (Part One found here) and in the musical followup to that series The frequency…really: A soundtrack I ranted about obsession, specifically a deadly obsession with politics which I called

a joy sucking vapor – something akin to a lover hiding infidelity and benefitting from their deceit and their partner’s cluelessness?

Given all that has fed that obsession, and others, equating the affects the obsessions have had on my psyche with a relationship gone wrong is the height of irony, as you’ll see.

The failures which stemmed from my obsessive loves have moved to the forefront of my thoughts these days. Election day is around the corner. The Love, the promises, and the anger which comprise this pissing match with the Almighty have everything to do with my unhealthy political obsessions. You might say that my obsessive anger led to me trading my promise to God to serve him for commitment to political ideals instead.

That particular trade was mostly His fault, as you’ll also see. When you do you may understand why I’m so friggin brassed off at Him.

How exactly did I get from “nice guy” dedicating himself to serving God to “asshole” with a grudge? Well, the first thing I had to do was fall for someone with exactly zero interest in me. The second thing was I needed to be fool enough to talk about it with a ‘friend’ with ulterior motives. Finally, the third thing that needed to happen before beginning my transformation was that I had to die.

And die I did…but not before I made another promise…

Come with me and lets walk. We’re going to see where Asshole and Nice Guy met. We’ll (re)visit old haunts, we’ll enjoy not so chance (re)acquaintance with familiar strangers, and we’ll walk the not-so-wild-as-you-would-think-life on the streets.

It’s comforting to have you along for the trip, dear reader. These paths can get a little treacherous. Take my hand and hold tight, we’re nearing the edge. We’re gonna take our leap of faith. Hold your breath and stay close. The waters can be a bit cold sometimes.

{image courtesy of Buzzfeed & Google Images}