A Schizophrenic Complaint 5

This is the last post from this series. I told the truth and nothing but the truth, and believe it or not, the whole truth about my life in a concise manner. There was never something hidden in my mind. This time I will speak about another important issue in my life and its implications:

4) Suicide
As I said until now and you can imagine that, when I was a child they built in me a great and altruistic love for other human beings, but also love and respect for life itself in all its forms and also for myself. I was raised to endure pain and frustration hoping for future better days, to be calm, kind and patient. One of the things built in me was the total rejection of suicide as a kind of solution to put an end to endless sufferings. When I was young I could not understand why some people commit suicide, I was condemning this act deep in my heart, praising life and God’s creations.
When I was a Psychology student I did not read too much about suicide. We were taught in the beginning theories from the old psychiatric school, for example that even only the suicide itself is a proof that the person had a mental illness, even if it was not diagnosed before or wasn’t visible before in any symptom. Or the fact that suicide is very rare among schizophrenics. (Now if you look on the net you will find that schizophrenics are considered a segment of population with high suicide risk and rates). When I tried to obtain a master in Psychology one of my colleagues asked an open question: why another colleague, a girl A. committed suicide from her balcony after buying her wedding dress and making preparations. I did not know about that event until then, I did not know what to answer, but I knew A., because I went together with her in our psychological practice hours for example at the Legal Medical Institute or at some orphan houses in Bucharest. She was a quiet and kind girl.
As I said before I took a decision to cease my own life only when I was kept for the second time in the psychiatric hospital in 1996, because I could not see any solution for my problems in the future, and I had to go through tortures and lies every day. But suicide is not easy to achieve. I realized that jumping from the window was not a sure method to end my life, nor was cutting my veins, because they could still save me. So I tried to electrocute myself with wet hands in the plug, after taking the plastic off with a screwdriver. I was the kind of woman who liked to do some man mending work in the house since childhood. Nothing happened. After such useless suicide attempts I was usually cutting my hair myself in the mirror, dying myself blonde once, in order to forget about daily stress, trying once more to begin a new life.
Then in 1998, 31st of December, I had my only real suicide attempt. I explained why in my first post about my miseries as a psychiatric patient. I woke up in the emergency car (maybe one from the old pool of cars, because a few weeks after that I was transported only with that old type of ambulance) and they were asking for my blood type – I realized that I was not dead and I mumbled the other blood groups, not mine, then I said I don’t know and fell asleep again. Then I woke up again in my sleep (look for example in wikipedia or other resources for NDE – Near-Death- Experience – Link) and I saw myself from above my head in blood – everything was red – and someone was talking I think with my father who was in the hall room at the door, asking him something. Then a doctor said – „oh, what a woman was this!” and that remark outraged me and I fell asleep again. Some thinkers say that life is only a dream. Then I woke up in the emergency recovery room with perfusions in my veins and under the horrible buzzing of those life-monitors. I took instantly my perfusions off, although I was aware that it was useless. Then I suffered a lot, I will not tell you the whole story or how many X-rays they gave me…I will tell that rib and sternum pain were more powerful than others. I also had two joint vertebrae. Maybe those experiences, along with others, made me try to find my freedom, knocking on closed doors since 2002 with the story of my innocent life. My father tried to stop me, explaining me that my pleas were in vain, I did not listen to him. Like I did not listen to him when he tried to stop me to go out from Bucharest that winter.
But two things that happened then made me realize that there was something wrong with the others, not with me:
– On the road towards that resort, some people were trying to scare me, they were suggesting me that I will die, one was telling paranoid stories about people sacrificed in this country, explaining me that I must wear a little cross hung on my neck and go to a particular monastery, Cernica; others were stealing my money, others were crossing themselves with their hands in front of me, others refused to let me sleep anywhere in that resort, one insane man was walking in front of the hotel in pajamas. I did not understand then why they were tracking me like that. (All these facts, are true, not dreams, maybe you don’t believe them).
– My father told me the story of my rescue. He said he was asleep and then awakened by the neighbor below, a woman who found me on the street in blood and called the ambulance. What seemed strange to him was the fact that I was leaning against the wall, as if someone dragged me there and I was delirious, asking him a cigarette, like I did on our road back to Bucharest. I was asking myself – if someone dragged me there – why? And why he did not call the ambulance? Or was I crawling myself there?
You can imagine how I was – pure and fragile, but intelligent, but I could not imagine that others had a claw against me. Even my thoughts were good and pure.
So I lost my left leg, half of my calf of the left leg. They made me a prosthetic limb only after a year or so. But I continued my medical studies, first walking with crutches, then with that artificial leg. I wasn’t yet so fat. My godfather was crying when he saw me, my father told me that I will regret my whole life what I did. A psychologist said that I did again something very foolish. I am protesting now against the prejudices a lamed woman might face in this world. I have to say that some were making fun of me, this is unimportant. The most important thing is that I could take care of myself alone, walking long distances on my feet, preparing my food, buying what I needed, washing my laundry, even ironing, cleaning my house. In fact those were from the few pleasures of life left for me. I was even a high school teacher with one leg, climbing the school stairs, remembering vaguely that one of my ex-teacher had an artificial leg. Remembering that my father said that Churchill had one leg shorter than the other (which fact I did not find written anywhere…), etc. I was even working in the field in the countryside with fork and rake at hay gathering. I always loved work since I was little and working in the field it is beautiful and good for health. It is quite poetic to see the gentle sunset over hills, smelling fresh cut grasses, breathing fresh air (there you cannot think about smoking).
One of my neighbors was impressed by the fact that a well known media personality in my city (Silviu Prigoană) had a leg missing and had also children and wife, but he had apparently plenty of money and human rights and was a man. A sad thing is that prejudices against handicapped women seem to be greater that against men.
As a conclusion I want to stress the fact that obesity, one of my great sufferings now because of different problems, is a greater disadvantage than missing one leg. A few years ago I weighed 67 kg. and life was still good, I was younger and I had a little more money, going to visit museums, going to concerts or in parks, cleaning my apartment twice a week everywhere, taking a bath more often. Then my other problems continued, I was tortured more and more and I restarted smoking and overeating.
But I am still fighting and I will continue my fight, at least for a while…I hope now I will stop again smoking and lose weight again, but problems are still there and no one wants to talk with me, no one wants the truth to be said, what I was praying since 1984…Upon me is only one cruel decision: the 1992 official paper that I am schizophrenic, condemning me indirectly to death…I studied 23 years of school as a total in vain, like a cow grazing grass, the real life lessons come only after school, after long years of endurance…

“Who trusted God was love indeed
And love Creation’s final law
Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw
With ravine, shriek’d against his creed”
(Alfred, Lord Tennyson)
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