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Don Truman Wilson is a writer and a spokesperson for suicide prevention. Don’s 2009 brush with suicide opened his eyes to see what matters in life. He is a graduate of the Institute for Writers (formerly, the Long Ridge Writers Group). Don is a native of West Virginia, now living and working in Central Florida.
I Stared into the Abyss of Suicide. Without a doubt, to contemplate suicide has to be one of the darkest experiences a human heart can know, a moment of incredible loneliness. You feel abandoned by everyone, even God, as if alone in the universe. The moment to end my life had come. My tormented soul would find peace at last. When a suicidal person makes it to this juncture, it is all but finalized. In his mind, it is settled. For him to execute this final act of misery will be easy. His relief is in sight. He doesn’t see the devastating effects the act will have on his family and friends. He only wants the unbearable emotional pain to end. I had mulled the final act over several times. I decided upon an overdose of pain pills. As I stood motionless at the bathroom sink, the blank face in the mirror resembled my own. Because of the long-term emotional pain of the conflict, I had lost my desire to live. As I took one last look at the person who stared back at me, I lifted the hand that held the pills, and I thought to myself, “so this is how it ends.” Seconds crept by. I put the handful of pills into my shaking hand. I took a deep breath, swallowed the lethal meds with a gulp of water, then stood silent for the longest time, no emotions—no fear, if anything, relief. I staggered over to my bed in a daze, the ache of my heart accompanied by such loneliness I had never felt.