The Final Step

So on Friday 16th July 2010, I got things ready for the final step.  I phoned my best friend for a chat, to ensure that she would not ring me later.  I apologised to my sons for my moods.  I got the letters ready to be emailed to the relevant recipients. 

Through the internet I had learned that the tablets were easier to absorb if they were crushed up and less likely to come back up.  I’d also found out that taking them with too much liquid could cause vomiting.  Additionally, if the tablets were crushed, they would be quicker to take and th body would absorb them faster, thereby reducing the risk of passing out before taking them all.  One site advised that it was important to have the tablets ready and out of their wrappers so that it was quicker and easier to take them.

So I laid out my collection, 140 tablets in all.  I crushed half of them and mixed the resultant powder into a small amount of fruit juice.  The balance of the tablets I removed from their wrappers and placed them ready beside my bed, together with the fruit juice cocktail and another glass of water.

I made sure that all my washing up had been done and that everything in my flat was in order, especially property belonging to the service.  I put my phone on silent so that I would not be disturbed.  I had already developed the habit of putting the phone on silent at work and had frequently forgotten to reactivate the sound afterwards, so no one would wonder about it.

And then I went out onto my balcony for one final look at the view.  I took my time and I suppose there was a part of me that was wondering if I was doing the right thing.  Maybe there was a part of me that hoped that someone would sense that something was wrong and come around to check that I was alright.  But I honestly believed that everyone would be better off, even happier without me around.

Then I went through to my bedroom, where everything was laid out ready and waiting.  I started taking handfuls of tablets with the ‘cocktail’.  Once the cocktail ran out, I used the water.  And I finally cried.  Not so much because I did not want to die, but because I wished that there was someone out there who loved and cared about me.  But I knew that this would never be possible.  Why would anyone in their right mind care about someone like me?  I didn’t deserve it, so how could I expect it.

One hundred and forty tablets later, I realised that I needed my parents with me, so I got their photographs and placed them beside my bed.  And I just lay on my side, waiting for sleep to claim me and after that, oblivion.  Still I cried.  I cannot explain what it feels like to believe that there is not one person on earth who cares whether you live or die.  The word loneliness just doesn’t cover it.  I cried for the girl I could have been, if only Alex had not decided to destroy my life 33 years ago.