I fought for as long as I could to maintain my life as I knew it. Unfortunately, I lost that battle and I was being forced out my life, my city, and my peace. When I finally broke down to tell my sister I was undone and couldn’t hold on to my way of life, she said in a way only a mother can say to her child or in my case her little brother, “come home we got you!” She lived in Virginia and it was my only option to begin the healing process in a judgment free zone. I would be with people who would give me what others could not, sanctuary. I was offered time to figure it out. The same sister who loved me when I told her I was gay, was now loving on me some more at a time when I no longer felt like living.
A month after my fall from grace, I remember one night after 2am and I couldn’t sleep. I thought the insomnia I had experienced for weeks after my nephew’s death was returning. I found old episodes of Sex and the City on tv and even with the nuisance of commercials, was a welcomed distraction. I could see New York City in the background and I needed to be reminded of home even if it was interrupted with an ad for rheumatoid arthritis medication. Now two glasses deep in Cabernet Sauvignon, I was resting comfortably on my sister’s beige sectional. My, how the mighty have fallen I thought as looked at the floor filled with my niece and nephew’s toys. As depressed as I was, all I could think of was why is it that children’s toys have a million and one pieces? That made me smile and while Carrie Bradshaw lit up a cigarette on the screen, I wished I could light up my life and go back home. That however, was not possible. I was here, defeated on the sofa, and I wasn’t going back home any time soon.
The days passed at a excruciatingly sluggish pace. Hundreds of resumes were submitted with rejections that followed, if I even received a response at all. The good thing about being around my family during this chaotic time, particularly a 7 month, and four year old is that they kept my mind off my troubles until night fell. It was then that the darkness within rivaled the shadows of the night outside of my sister’s patio doors.
There wasn’t anything I could do to improve my circumstances. I meditated, spoke to my deceased mother for guidance and received nothing but silence. Maybe she had given up on me too. Maybe my time was up and I’ve lived all that I was supposed to live. The darkness continued to be relentless returning with a vengeance. Thoughts of not being good enough, that I’m being punished, and not worthy of happiness facilitated a strong argument to just end it all and be done with it!
I was desperately wishing that I had it in me to make peace with leaving this world in a manner that would be painless, easier for my family, and discrete. Even in my darkest hour I thought damn, this is one more thing I can’t do. That infuriated me. I envied those people who could find the one thing to be the straw that broke the camel’s back and warrant not giving a damn about the consequences of ending one’s life. Surprisingly, there was something buried deep within that would not allow me to go through with saying goodbye. How could this be? I had lost all hope but I still managed to pull something out of me that I had ignored my entire life. It’s what saved me.