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Love,
Captain PirateFace a. k.a Johnny
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Thursday, August 9, 2007
A suicide attempt.
(This is a Re-Post from:
Not all of these will be dramatic and sad. These are my memories and they will be presented as I see fit. Erratic and out of order. Good, Bad and very, very ugly.
When I was 16 I fell in love with a girl. I don't think it would be right to disclose a name or give too many details so we shall just refer to her as, MP. It was a strange and rocky relationship but I had fallen in love hard. She was amazing and I could not be deterred from her. Even when she threatened to cheat on me. Even when she would lose her temper and instead of ending the relationship I would just let her hit me and cry like a baby. Almost silly to think this tiny thing of a girl wailing on a very tall (pre-chunky) me. But very pathetic. Now do not judge her by these flash back accounts. She had a spectacular good side and the bad stuff was brought on by poor parenting and an emotional disorder. Anyhow, I had learned the art of "Cutting" from her. For those not familiar as to what "Cutting" is... here is a quick breakdown, non-clinical:
One who uses sharp instruments (i.e. scissors, razorblades, etc...) to cut one's own flesh resulting in immediate pain and deep scarring, physically and emotionally.
Why would I do that? Cut my own arms? Well I had been punching things (not people...yet) for years resulting in the scarring of my knuckles. So when I began to deal with the mental exhaustion of fighting to keep the girl I loved by letting her fuck me up emotionally and physically I would release the frustration by cutting my arms. It made me feel better. So did writing but "Cutting" was more immediate and easy (see: "Lazy").
My parents at the time knew to a degree what was going on and had me in therapy, which all in all was a fruitless venture, but did lead to a diagnoses of a chemical imbalance in my brain (a.k.a. Bi-Polar disorder). Their frustration and fear would bubble up and to cope they would increase in an activity that had started to totally take control of their lives and would have a deep hold for many years to come... Gambling. So I had a lot of alone time at home. I had dabbled in anti-depressants but I found that coming off them made me crash just as hard as a bad fight, and... They made it difficult to maintain an erection... Hey when your a teenage boy pills that make you zero reactive is a fucked up thing at the time, so don't roll your eyes. hehe.
Well, the relationship grew worse and worse but being the fool that I am I could not give her up.
On April fools, 1997 I got into a huge fight with the girl I loved. Over what, I cannot recall.
I was 17 years old and it was April 1st 1997... 15 days away from my 18th birthday.
I took a bottle full of aspirin and a few other random pills in my house and decided that I was sick of the world and wanted to die......
a half hour later.
I changed my mind.
My stomach began to hurt. When I used the toilet my fecal matter smelled exactly the same as when my mom would fry up kidney's for my dad.
I panicked.
I called a friend whom we will refer to by the initials, SD.
He and another friend rushed me to the emergency room and I was brought into a private room.
I begged and pleaded for the doctor's to not call my parents but I was still a minor....
17 years old with my 18th birthday 15 days away.
They contacted my family and it was a bad scene.
My Mom and Dad arrived both weeping at seeing me in a hospital bed... It was the third time I had ever seen my father cry. Next in was my Grandparents, affectionately referred to as Gram and Pop Pop. Again both weeping, it was the first time I had seen my Grandfather cry. It was then when I realised what was worse than death... this was far worse.
........
I then learned of the joy of drinking charcoal. Not so good. It goes down thick like a thick warm milkshake that hurts your throat immediately. The doctors said it was the charcoal or they would pump my stomach. I drank.
I threw up everything that could have possibly been in my stomach.
I was alive.
Embarrassed, pathetic, broken hearted for the family I just wounded.
I called up my girlfriend that night in the hospital to tell her what had happened.
her response: Your an idiot.
Again, in her defense she had issues she was dealing with that nobody can understand and it is not my place to expose them. All you need to know is that she has been forgiven for any wrong doing or resent, and has grown up to be an independent caring person with her own life far removed from mine.
This suicide attempt has rarely been mentioned within my family since. The last time it was mentioned my mom regarded it as the time I had a headache and "accidentally" took too many pills.... Good cover mom.
Anyhow, The holiday's brought out more fighting and she officially left me on New Years eve/day of 1998. Soon after that, the very worst part of my life began....
Coming Soon, "151 Proof, Speed and the Mexican Mafia" and "The destruction and re-birth of Captain PirateFace"
THURSDAY, AUGUST 9, 2007)
Not all of these will be dramatic and sad. These are my memories and they will be presented as I see fit. Erratic and out of order. Good, Bad and very, very ugly.
When I was 16 I fell in love with a girl. I don't think it would be right to disclose a name or give too many details so we shall just refer to her as, MP. It was a strange and rocky relationship but I had fallen in love hard. She was amazing and I could not be deterred from her. Even when she threatened to cheat on me. Even when she would lose her temper and instead of ending the relationship I would just let her hit me and cry like a baby. Almost silly to think this tiny thing of a girl wailing on a very tall (pre-chunky) me. But very pathetic. Now do not judge her by these flash back accounts. She had a spectacular good side and the bad stuff was brought on by poor parenting and an emotional disorder. Anyhow, I had learned the art of "Cutting" from her. For those not familiar as to what "Cutting" is... here is a quick breakdown, non-clinical:
One who uses sharp instruments (i.e. scissors, razorblades, etc...) to cut one's own flesh resulting in immediate pain and deep scarring, physically and emotionally.
Why would I do that? Cut my own arms? Well I had been punching things (not people...yet) for years resulting in the scarring of my knuckles. So when I began to deal with the mental exhaustion of fighting to keep the girl I loved by letting her fuck me up emotionally and physically I would release the frustration by cutting my arms. It made me feel better. So did writing but "Cutting" was more immediate and easy (see: "Lazy").
My parents at the time knew to a degree what was going on and had me in therapy, which all in all was a fruitless venture, but did lead to a diagnoses of a chemical imbalance in my brain (a.k.a. Bi-Polar disorder). Their frustration and fear would bubble up and to cope they would increase in an activity that had started to totally take control of their lives and would have a deep hold for many years to come... Gambling. So I had a lot of alone time at home. I had dabbled in anti-depressants but I found that coming off them made me crash just as hard as a bad fight, and... They made it difficult to maintain an erection... Hey when your a teenage boy pills that make you zero reactive is a fucked up thing at the time, so don't roll your eyes. hehe.
Well, the relationship grew worse and worse but being the fool that I am I could not give her up.
On April fools, 1997 I got into a huge fight with the girl I loved. Over what, I cannot recall.
I was 17 years old and it was April 1st 1997... 15 days away from my 18th birthday.
I took a bottle full of aspirin and a few other random pills in my house and decided that I was sick of the world and wanted to die......
a half hour later.
I changed my mind.
My stomach began to hurt. When I used the toilet my fecal matter smelled exactly the same as when my mom would fry up kidney's for my dad.
I panicked.
I called a friend whom we will refer to by the initials, SD.
He and another friend rushed me to the emergency room and I was brought into a private room.
I begged and pleaded for the doctor's to not call my parents but I was still a minor....
17 years old with my 18th birthday 15 days away.
They contacted my family and it was a bad scene.
My Mom and Dad arrived both weeping at seeing me in a hospital bed... It was the third time I had ever seen my father cry. Next in was my Grandparents, affectionately referred to as Gram and Pop Pop. Again both weeping, it was the first time I had seen my Grandfather cry. It was then when I realised what was worse than death... this was far worse.
........
I then learned of the joy of drinking charcoal. Not so good. It goes down thick like a thick warm milkshake that hurts your throat immediately. The doctors said it was the charcoal or they would pump my stomach. I drank.
I threw up everything that could have possibly been in my stomach.
I was alive.
Embarrassed, pathetic, broken hearted for the family I just wounded.
I called up my girlfriend that night in the hospital to tell her what had happened.
her response: Your an idiot.
Again, in her defense she had issues she was dealing with that nobody can understand and it is not my place to expose them. All you need to know is that she has been forgiven for any wrong doing or resent, and has grown up to be an independent caring person with her own life far removed from mine.
This suicide attempt has rarely been mentioned within my family since. The last time it was mentioned my mom regarded it as the time I had a headache and "accidentally" took too many pills.... Good cover mom.
Anyhow, The holiday's brought out more fighting and she officially left me on New Years eve/day of 1998. Soon after that, the very worst part of my life began....
Coming Soon, "151 Proof, Speed and the Mexican Mafia" and "The destruction and re-birth of Captain PirateFace"
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