The adventure begins.

To think that just a few months ago, I contemplated taking my life. In fact, I even made the attempt, but with disastrous results. Sure, I had made the effort to do some preliminary research via the internet on the effects of an overdose of Depikote. Little did I know, or did my research reveal to me, that I would only become violently ill. On the pharmacology web site I was assured that an overdose of Depikote would indeed be fatal. Well, it wasn’t. I spent the three days following with what seemed to resemble a massive hangover. Am I glad it “didn’t work”? That’s what I am here to share with you.

My mind was a sea of black oil as I began this adventure. I saw no light, in fact I saw nothing but darkness, despair, hopelessness, and pain. My attempted overdose was intended to alleviate that pain, put an end to what seemed a life long struggle, to no avail. I suppose I could have used a gun, but I hadn’t one. A razor would surely have done the trick, but I fretted about the mess. After all, someone was sure to find me and I did want to spare them the gruesome evidence of my undertaking. What else did I have at hand? In the cabinet I found some leftover “happy pills” prescribed by the doctor to treat my evident depression. At some point in time, I ceased taking the pills, convinced that I didn’t really need them. Alas I’d discovered the weapon of choice. It wouldn’t make a mess or leave behind a mangled and frightful sight of what was once me.

Dad gave me an audio copy of “The Secret” only days after my ill-fated attempt at suicide. He’d already given me the film version some months prior. I viewed the film, tried to comprehend its message, but failed somehow to take heed of that message. This changed after listening to the audio presentation of the actual book. After listening to the first chapter, it was as if someone had lit a candle. All of a sudden there was a tiny flicker in the sea of black oil that was my mind. With each chapter the flame burned brighter and brighter still. A voice inside began to whisper, that whisper being hardly audible in the beginning. As I continued to listen to the audio book, the whisper became a voice, increasing in volume just as the flame of the candle burned brighter. Eventually I could hear the comforting words of the voice as the candle lit up my mind, revealing nooks and crannies I had long since been unable to discern in the darkness. The voice reminded me of all of the things that I have done and experienced. It reminded me of dreams I have yet to realize and people I have yet to meet. The bright light of the candle emerged almost as a spot light, illuminating passions forgotten and talents neglected. My head was suddenly afire with visions of possibility and promise. My heart began to beat again, after what seemed to be ages of cardiac arrest. A feeling of warmth and comfort came over me and my eyes produced tears, which ran down my cheeks profusely. How long had it been since I was able to cry? The sea of black oil that was my mind was so overwhelming that even tears were unavailable. The pain had such intensity that I felt comatose. And yet here I sat with tears flowing as freely as a great river. I felt as though I was weeping for my life. Weeping for my life? A life almost taken in the deepest darkest moments of utter despair.

I am glad that the Depakote didn’t work, but I am sincerely grateful that Dad felt compelled to give me “The Secret” again. Somehow he knew, and his timing was impeccable.

And I thank you for lighting my candle, stirring my voice, and helping me to listen. The tears flow freely now.

Love,
D.