Sunday, August 07, 2005
I was preparing to go to work last night. I was about to take a bath. I had already splashed some water on my body using a "tabo" when I stepped on something mealy and slimy. When my eyes fell on the floor, I leapt out of revulsion; there they were - rat crap-- black pellets on the bathroom floor. Ewwww! Each piece was almost as big as my little finger. I was very worried because I have a small cut on my toe; I feared that might catch liptospirosis, a disease contracted from exposing an open wound to rat's urine. Quickly, I grabbed a bottle of chlorine bleach and spilled a lot of it on the floor. Without thinking, I doused my cut with the bleach and I almost screamed out of pain. When I came to my senses, I put my wounded toe under running water to get rid of the chlorine. What was I thinking? Maybe, I thought it would be better to die of chlorine poisoning than suffer for days from liptospirosis. But, no, I didn't want to die of poisoning either.
Thoughts came rushing into my head. I remembered Benjamin Abalos' daughter, Ciara, who died within days after eating a burger sandwich contaminated with E. Coli. Her illness was initially diagnosed as liptospirosis; the disease can kill a person just as quickly. I furiously mopped the floor with chlorine-and-detergent solution. I got rid of the offensive pellets by washing them down the drain. It was not long after when I realized that I desperately did not want to die. Suddenly, I laughed. I remembered that barely a year ago, I was so desperate to die that I would often pray and say to God, "Please take me home." I would cry till my eyes almost bled. I would even brag that I was not afraid to die. I would even go out at night unaccompanied, exposing myself to drug-crazed people who prowl on the streets, not heeding the warning of my well-meaning friends and not minding the news that so and so was either raped, stabbed to death, or mauled by drug addicts. I was ready to die. I was just looking for an opportunity to die, because I was too scared to take my own life. (The streets of Manila are safer than the streets of Kalibo. Most people in my hometown are asleep by 10:00 PM; by then, most of the streets would be dark and empty.)
Despite my fear, suicide was not far from my mind. I would run searches in Google for painless suicide methods. I read the biographies of Ernest Hemmingway, Virginia Woolf, and Sylvia Plath - writers who tragically took their own lives. Two years ago, I bought a pack of Racumin powder and some Tuseran capsules. I carefully took out the contents of each Tuseran capsule and filled the empty ones with the rat poison. I rented a cheap room in a pension house near my hometown; I wanted to die away from home. I wanted to spare my family from the horror of finding my lifeless body. I cried my eyes out and begged God for forgiveness. I was so miserable that figured that God would understand if I took my own life. Well, I simply spat out the capsule as soon as I put one into my mouth. I just couldn't do it! I was just too damn scared! My fear of hell was my only suicide deterrent.
Suicide is the farthest thing from my mind now; this is ironic since I don't believe in hell anymore. I believe that I will reincarnate after my present life ends. I still get depressed sometimes, but my attitude toward depression has changed. Sometimes, depression is a sign that a person needs to mature. The maturation process is painful; a person needs to relinquish the familiar (often cherished) things of the past and step into an uncertain future. Relinquishment often leads to depression, but a healthy person should recover in no time and be ready to accept reality for what it is. I have stopped complaining about the way things are. I have learned that people miss out on the good things in life because they keep on focusing on what they do not have. I have learned that it is useless to complain about the injustice in this world or about the unfairness of life; if one wants justice, he/she must actively seek it rather than complain about the lack of it. I have learned to laugh at the things that used to make me feel bad. I have learned to love and forgive myself. I have learned not to allow my happiness to depend on the decisions of others. I am certainly 100% happier now than I was a couple of years ago...
Love is what gives me a sense of purpose. Maybe I am still here because a lot of people need to meet me, or perhaps they need to be loved by me. I have realized that a lot of people love me. I don't want to die yet, because I know that a lot of people will grieve. I do have a morbid presentiment, though; I am going to die young. I still am not afraid to die, but I don't want to die yet. I have so many things to accomplish, so many things to try, and so many people to know and love.
One of these days, I am going to come up with my list of reasons to live. I am going to treat the idea of killing myself like rat crap; I will rid myself of it completely and wash it down the drain.
Posted @ 8:39 AM
