Thursday, August 27, 2009

A Virgin

So there I was driving to work down a rather busy highway. Life was not well. Among many things I had been trying to build a relationship with my father. Even through the years of abuse and neglect I still felt I needed something from him, some kind of approval. So after moving cross country to be near him and several months of trying to get reacquainted, things were not happening. Many of our "planned" visits resulted in my finding him in a bar and his asking me what the hell I was doing there. His girlfriends always took first priority and what was worse is that the girl's kids would become his for the time being. That ass would dote on them like they were the greatest thing ever.

Add in another failed relationship, this time with a girl I was truly in love with. Yet again my inability to talk about myself, my messed up brain and my closed off feelings screwed things up. Before you think these are minor things you must understand all the other bull that was piled on top of this. Anyone who has actually been through a severe depression could tell you how bad things can be.

So in general life sucked. I hated work, I hated home and most important I hated myself. I was (am) such a loser. No one liked me. No one cared about me. And I was top of both lists.

I realized life held nothing for me and I wanted no more of it. A lifetime of pain and hate and suffering came crashing down on me. I had enough.

I looked up to see a red light and a semi truck with trailer pulling into the road. I was about a half mile away and the pedal was all the way down. I wanted out right now. This was it. Any other option would take too long. At about 85 mph I hit the side of the trailer head on. Looking back it may have been more effective had I thought to take my seat belt off. Later I awoke to a fireman cutting the side of my car off. I passed out. Then I awoke to an EMT in a helicopter asking my name. A brief answer and I passed out. Later I finally awoke for good, strapped to a backboard, lying on a gurney. I could feel no pain. Everything moved like it should, where it could. No pain.

I later found out that my sister had been called and told to come down with my father. Come and say goodbye they said. We don't expect to see him make it through the night. I woke up at one point to see my father standing over me, a look of disappointment on his face. I bawled like a baby. I still don't know why. But I shook I was crying so hard.

Several weeks later I was released in a wheelchair. Stayed in the wheelchair for almost three months. Another month or so on crutches. I remember doing rehab and I had to do curls with a can of soup. First try I did three.

I came away from it all with a sense of purpose. My father was barely around as I healed. I no longer cared. I faced death and was still around. I gave it all up and was still here. I was going to find a reason to move on. I realized all my pain and suffering truly came from my parents. Because of my parents I almost took my own life. F*ck them! My life was finally mine. It would be better that theirs ever was. And in the end I would be the only one responsible for all of it.

Well, life doesn't go to plan, now does it.

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