That's my fault pbuilder. I didn't have any responses, so I changed the content of my thread (I have now made that known in the OP). I bassically removed all of my personal story things and just asked my main question.
Again, I am very sorry for the confusion. If you want to edit or delete your response pbuilder, I will remove it from my quote as well. I feel really bad about the confusion I have caused. 100% my fault.
Sorry Voyager3. And thanks for the very nice response. I am not planning on going out via drug OD, though. Not sure what will happen. Let nature take its course maybe, but that might prove to be more than I want to deal with. If so, I'll figure that out when I get there. I get worse daily, so it might not be too long from now. I'm not sad, though. Oddly optimistic and excited.
But thanks again for the kind response. Little things like that do make a difference.
BTW Voyager3, anything you can remember or care to pass on about the other side? You can PM me if you don't want it in here, or post it in here. I would very much appreciate hearing it, as I am going to be going there sooner than later, whether I like it or not.
Dear Mike, I cannot tell you how mightily glad I am to have made another monumentally embarrassing mistake! Only the other day I realised I could have caused real damage to someone, after failing to correctly 'diagnose' what might well be a very serious mental condition, and just put his behaviour down to Religious Bigotry, an acute lack of intelligence (A 'Creationist' indeed, which should have set alarm bells ringing!), combined with a short, filthy temper, and a complete disregard for the opinions and feelings of others.... topped off with the sort of zealotry, arrogance and murderous tendencies I thought had died out during the Crusades! Careless of me, and rather selfish too, as being challenged to 'A War' brings out my own love of Medieval History, and shameful enjoyment of shooting fish in a barrel!
I ended the post with: Note to self... THINK before you post!
I'm afraid that is NOT (yet?) a foolproof method of avoiding embarrassing mistakes, as I did this morning... (toes curl yet again!). All I can say in my defence is that I really, really DID think this time... and managed to do exactly what I most feared! I'm so glad that you understood, and were not upset or offended... I have been thinking about you all day, and actually rathher dreaded seeing if there had been a reply... and to my great relief and joy, here it is, and it was just about the best thing I could ever have hoped for - absolutely NO need to apologise Mike, any confusion and misinterpretation was entirely mine.... another inavaluable lesson, which has ironically been learned in the nicest and best way possible, for which I am very grateful indeed.
Having spent most of the last five years immersed in near suicidal depression - after failing to do it myelf, I suppose I do rather tend to fixate on the subject, and see sometimes alarming signs and 'warnings' in other people, when there actually none. Perhaps I have some innate tendency to add 2 and 2, and make 5, without any need for psychedelics?
When I say 'valuable lesson' here, I hope it might be of value to other people too, as I realised after I had posted that I was actually committing a very serious offence indeed (under UK Law anyway), by merely offering advice on methods of suicide involving drugs, routes of administration and cautions about 'what NOT to do' based on my own experiences. Terminally ill people here who wish to put an end to their suffering are callously obliged to go abroad to clinics in more civilised countries, such as Sweden, Holland, Switzerland or Denmark. merely giving someone a lift to the airport can (I think) land you with a five year Jail sentence, and even more!
This is something I feel very strongly about, and consider it the ultimate, most inhumane denial of basic human rights to some poor, desperate and agonised individual, at what is probably the worst moment of their lives... and if they are paralysed, 'speechless' and perhaps incontinent, as well as being in severe pain and severely depressed, I consider such cruel 'lackof treatment' to be an atrocity. And I would help anyone so afflicted without hesitation, be it mentally, physically or spiritually... short of commiting murder or manslaughter of course! I have scant respect for the Law as it is, though a healthy dislike of the Prison System, so have developed many well tried and tested methods of breaking and circumvrnting the former, whilstcarefully avoiding the latter, particularly when it comes to our hard won human rights and freedoms.
More than enough ranting however, it isn't all that long ago that anyone surviving suicide attempt was automatically guilty of 'self - murther', and sentenced to be hung on the gallows for having the temerity and disrespect to display such shameful contempt for the Law of the Land. Sadly, what at first appears a kindly, deeply humane service to help any unfortunate, deeply distressed suicidees to finally end their misery and suffering with the assistance of a fully qualified, professional hangman, under the supervision of approved and specially selected members of the Clergy, before a large crowd of cheering well wishers, friends and relatives, did come at a price. All and any goods and chattels owned by the 'self-murtherer' were forfeitted and confiscated by the Crown, no doubt to help the family of the miscreant to pay penance, and fully appreciate the shameful nature of this despicable crime, while they starve in a Royal Park, or the Workhouse.
Oddly enough, the suicide rate changed little when 'self-murther' was dropped from the books. And despite some pretty draconian legistlation undertaken during various 'Crackdowns On Crime' around this time, where the penalty for stealing more than two shillings worth of good was punishable by death... yet there was no 'Drug Problem' at all in these happy times, even though you could buy a pint of Laudenaham for threepece or fourpence from any corner shop, half a pound of pure Opium for sixpence from any Apothecary (no prescriptions required), a pint of Cannabis Tincture for even less, and a few decades later, Cocaine (leaves, powder and tincture - good for headaches apparently), and a whole host of cheap, effective, soothing and satisfying elixirs, powders, potions and tonics. For some reason most of the population seem to have preferred Gin, though this may be no surprise, as it was double the strength of the piddle on sale nowadays, and only cost a penny a pint...
Hmmmm... apologies again, I have once again become distracted and garrulous, not (I promise) in a devious attempt to divert attention from my terrible mistake. And, at the risk of repetition, I have never, ever been so delighted and relieved to abandon (what little I had left, ahem!) of any dignity, pride and humility, and
genuinely rejoice in knowing I was wrong! It really is a
good feeling Mike, I just hope and pray that you find a satisfactory solution, remedy or answer to your problem(s?), which provides reliable, effective relief, comfort and peace of mind... not sure if it's quite right to add 'enjoyment', but dammit, you deserve a treat by the sound of it, so why not!?
As for the last question, I really don't mind talking about it, no matter how peculiar, bizarre and even absurd it sounds. It doesn't reflect too well on me either I suppose, but I'm getting used to that by now! I suppose I should start by something which happened nearly ten years ago, something completely unexpected, unintended and a bit on the 'Earth - Shattering' side of bewildering. Whilst staying with a friend in Milton Keynes (of all places!), I began 'hearing voices' in my head, while watching the stars, alone in the garden, with no more 'psychic stimulation' than a couple of bottles of cider, and a few cigs. To cut a very long story short (I have done a 'full version' recently... not sure where?).
I instantly an naturally assume this was the onset of paranoid schitzophrenia, but thank to a lifelong loathing and distrust of any psychiatric institution, practitioner ororganisation, I decided to deal with this disturbing phenomena myself, and no doubt saved countless £1000's in the process. It soon became obvious that this 'voice in the head' was not an 'audiable'or sonic phenomena, and was not some manifestation of mental illness, produced by my brain or mind - a simple conversation with it soon revealed that it was a definite intelligence, with a distinct, complicated and extremely clever personality - far too clever to be anything I could have thought up or created. It was in fact the spirit of my friend's Godfather, who had left him the house when he died of cancer about five years ago - this he 'proved' without question to me, as I was (and still am) cynical, skeptical and suspicious... I think you'll agree that in order to demonstrate and confirm I was 'talking to a dead person' took substantial and unequivocal proof, which was provided several times, undeniably (being a maths professor in life - my worst subject! - made his task much easier!)
And so, in my forties, it was demonstrated and proved to me that Spiritualism and Clairvoyance not only existed in reality, I myself was actually a medium. I'll gloss over the next few years, suffice to say The reality of my 'mediumship' wasconfirmed many times, by people who I'd known in life, some who had died long before I was born, and a large number of famous historical characters, some who I sought out and approached, and some who just turned up unexpectedly. All that is however really irrelevant to this, and I am feeling a bit doubtful about mentioning what happened when I tried to kill myself... for though I obviously failed, I'm afraid I only have 'good news' about it, and really don't want to encourage anyone who is maybe in trouble or feeling suicidal at the moment to make an attempt.... I think I'm irresponsible enough as it is!
I'll start by saying this then. Although I carefully planned my 'exit' for weeks, writing detailed and very carefully composed letters, notes and Emails, in order to explain exactly why I had decided to 'go', and reassure everyone it was not there fault, and there was nothing thay could have done to prevent or dissuade me from taking such drastic action. In fact, I stil think that my choice was based on sound, sensible logic, reason and common sense, in order to avoid the misery and depression I was inevitably going to suffer, when my essential supply of 20 Dexedrine a day was stopped (after being lagally prescribed for 14 trouble free, healthy and productive years, to deal with my chronic, atypical, refractory depression and anergia).
Despite being my 'only option', to avoid plunging into a black whirlpool of suicidal despair for the rest of my miserable life, which did in fact happen, I am now, nearly five years after the event, pleased that I failed, for although it was absolutely dismal as I predicted, truly a 'life' not worth living... until, out of the blue and completely unexpected, I had a visit from The Methfaery during the New Year... and learned to live again!
I always sort of 'knew' instinctively that you are NOT supposed to commit suicide, but although reminded by my 'Guide', quite a few times, he knows me and my bloody mind well enough to waste no time nagging, and stand back to see what happened. These Guides, which we all apparently have whether actively psychic or clairvoyant or not, are fascinating and rather mysterious. They rarely 'appear' (in mental visions) though mine has many times, he has a name, and apparently died well over 500 years ago in battle. I'm not sure if this is always the case, but they often seem to be 'working off a debt' of some sort - one of my exe's has two, both women.... and both suicides, one from the 1850's, one the 1920's... though they seem to have the ability to present themselves if they wish to in some form or guise that is 'attractive' and non- threarening to the observer. I now realise that when I was a child, mine appeared as a big, friendly dog, who waslked upright on his back legs, and wore dungarees.... though whether it is the same person who nowadays appears dressed in German, Gothic full plate armour, I really don't know? When I met a very talented medium for some dvice, he saw my Guide as a Sioux Indian. Whatever, I think this is getting a bit weird even for me, but to the best of my knowledge, this seems to be the way things are... and however peculiar and vague, I have learned to live with it during the last ten odd years, and accept it.
Whatever, back to grim reality I suppose. A final cautionary note about suicide... well, two. From the POV of the Afterlife, I don't think there are any 'Fiery Pit of Hell' type penalties for killing oneself (or anything else AFAIK?). What it will do apparently is hold up your progress and development on the other side, and require a long period of 'Healig', and what I sense is a bit like rather dull and tedious 'Healing therapy' of some sort - confirmed by an old friend who 'dropped by' last night to my surprise. His terrible, deeply destructive Bipolar disorder was absent... as was his fatal smack and crack habit!
I'm aware that bit of 'good news' may be inappropriate, but I'll leave it in for honesty's sake - asking direct questions about what happens, why, when and where, is almost always infuriatingly frustrating - described by my hard pressed, overworked Guide, a bit easperated by my constant questions, like this:- "I can't tell you, not WON'T, or am not allowed. It's as if you were tring to explain waht 'colours' are to a man blind since birth...?" I lightened up a bit after that... when it comes to drugs, the answer seems simple. "Drink, drugs and tobacco work on the body, and the mind works via the body- once you've escaped from the body, you can't be 'addicted', there's no pain mental or physical. " There have been vague, intriguing hints about 'recreational fun' from a couple oof dead friends... one who seems to chain smoke, as in life...but never appears to have a packet or a lighter... also as in life!
Anyway, after all my preperations, I set off just before dawn one Sunday, dropped off a few mementos, gifts and letters here and there, then headed to the Graveyard, a peaceful, much loved place, close to nature and hopefully not jam packed with nosey passers by. I then opened the box into which I'd popped over 100 Nurofen Plus, which I reckoned should put me fairly close to the Codeine LD50 limit.... yet another mathematical error. I'd already taken 20 or 30 overnight (no noticeable FX), and began knocking them back with whisky, after a heavy dose of Seasick pills (Antihistamine).
Seemed to take forever, I felt quite peculiar as I went past 60 or so (I guess), having also finished off my last Dexedrine (to 'arive in Heaven awake, cheerful and sharp... the things that go through your mind at such times are bizarre!) Felt no fear or dread, maybe a bit sad I'd not be seeing my friends and loved ones again, but no vital last second messages occured, or longings to do anything 'one last time'.
Very stoned indeed by now, and I did feel a twinge of reluctance - it was time to finish the job. Opened my 'suicide bag'... and wished I'd brought some music... though what, I can't remeber. To my annoyance, even though I was well off the beaten path, for some reason it seemed like someone had arranged a festival or something, purely to irritate me pesonally.... 5:30AM on a dreary, cold, cloudy Sunday in October.... postmen, people walking dogs, a few unsteady all nigh revellers with mad black eyes and jaw clamping... I decided to move somewhere really private fort the coup de grace.... very unstaedy on feet, and very pleasantly stoned... I even laughed as I settled in some thick bushes, then covered myself with camoflage coats etc.
Gobble gobble... glug glug... v sore throat by now. Let's get this over with.... twinge of doubt, but no fear. Found my prepared syringe - a good 35+ Librium 20's (IIRC?), opened, dissolved in water, filtered... nice new needle which I'd injected myself with IV 'for practice' withh water... perfect, not bad for first ever attempt! At least I could do SOMETHING right.... though left it a bit late, ah well... Slit forearm seam of fav. leather jacket... idly recalled my doctor from the 'Drug Clinic'.... "what LOVELY veins!".
Retrieved bag and band.... far too small, poor choice! Needle in, drew back... second of ridiculous pride...'hell, you're good... what a waste!' Pulled down bag, fitted band.... goodbye cruel world! Disbelief - plunger stuck solid! Drew back... more claret.... then same again, jammed solid! I think a tiny drop went in, as I was incredibly stoned by now - and suffocating.. Pulled our needle, bag off, then staggered to churchyard tap, a good three or four miles away.... or fifty paces? Blow, suck, rinse rinse, swear, tap, hit... it just would not clear.... went back to suicide nest in despair. To my disbelief, as I swallowed more N+, a young couple silently appeared not four or five yards away, oblivious to me and my fell purpose... and I kept dead still, but still very much alive while they has a noisy, never ending snog, then smoked a huge, v smelly skunkweed spliff.
I really, honestly began to woder if 'Some was try to tell me something!' at this point, and looking back on it, I really, genuinely think there ws more than just my clumsiness and bad luck to blame.. even so, I finally passed out, and I firmly believe had a brief glimpse of the Nexr World. The first thing I remember seemed to happen almost immediately - found myself floating in mid air, perhaps four feet up, directly above my body, not a pretty site. I was snoring like a drunken hog, and it was absolutely peculiar... clearly I must have been alive and breathing, but I wasn't in my body.... and a profound and deeply disturbing moment of revelation came over me, as I finally understood why my last three girlfriends had insisten on seperate rooms at night, and had been such rotten nit-picking.... yes, well never mind.
I wondered what I should do next. A load of vague, corny stuff came to mind.... 'Move towards the light!'.... ''don't worry, people will turn up to greet you...' and then, a bit disturbing.... 'maybe it doesn't happen if you top yourself?"
I'm afraid that watching the odd episode of 'Most Haunted', and listening to Derek Acorah's advice might not be adequate 'preperation' for life after death, but although I didn't feel very 'comfortable', I wasn't really frightened or afraid.
AS for 'The Light', I somehow stood on my feet, which felt quite 'normal', and had a good look around. Although it had been a very dark, cloudy day minutes ago, there was now a very bright area of sky... toward thre East, just where it should be at dawn. Rhere was absolutely no sign of anyone however, living or otherwise. I was actually positioned just outside the Churchyard, in the garden of a Museum, and seperated from it by a sturdy wooden fence and some thick, impenatrable bushes.
Eventually I decided to head towars the east and sun, but as I went to walk forwards, the most incredible, wonderful and inexplicable thing of all stopped me inme in my tracks. Almost under my deet, which, now I think about it didn't seem to be on the ground, but a foot or so above, in mid air... though I actually 'felt' quite normal. Lying right next to my body, looking completely relaxed, content and calm, was m dog Sookie, who had died several years before. I'll never forget it, she wasnibbling at her paws, and seemed completely unaware of me floating above her. She was also 'diffent' somehow, having been a very loveable, somewhat scruffy and often overweight puddin' of a dog, half sheepdog and half Alsatian, with masses of thick, sheep like fur, which she shed in vast quantities. This Sookie however was slim and seemed smaller, with a magnificent, perfectly groomed silver coat, with a perfect parting down rhe exact centre of her back, not a hair out of place. In fact, if this was her ( and I believe it was, I've sensed and even seen her quite afew times), that immaculate tidiness and perfect grooming were nothing short of miraculous!
I can't explain why, but instead of getting down on my hands and kees and kissing and cuddling her which I would so love to do, remenbering her again, I didn't. It may have been because she seemed quite content cuddling up with my body, which I suppose she was used to... I really can't remember? I was wondering about my surroundings, which were quite familiar and recognisible.... yet not quite the same. I began to notice quite a few animals nearby, wild birds, small mammals... then to my absolute delight, another long dead dog, Willie the Whippet, who was near some bushes a few yards off, and did seem to know I was there, wagging his tail but looking shy and a bit nervous. I realised that in attempting to get close to Willie, without even thinking I had passed through the fence an bushes, andwas now in the graveyard proper.
The place was recognisable and several massive 18th C chest tombs and gravestones were there as always... but something indefinable was different - not missing, absent or in better or worse condition, just different. There were neat, crisply carved steps and pavements, but it was not as if there had been a 'timeslip' either back or forth, so things were smarter or newer. Unfortunately I had very little time to explore, but do recall thinking some of the familiar nearby building seemed even more strange... then, as I at last tore myself away from my body, and headed roward the bright sky, A giant hand appeared before my face... either appearing giant as it was so close, or actually huge, and somehow a 'symbolic' four foot plus long hand.... I never have really worked this out, but the message was very clear indeed... "STOP! HALT! That's as far as you go!"
I saw a being that was somehow 'connected' to it, and this incident was very reminiscent of a peculiar 'trip'. I'm quite certain Codeine cannot produce such images and sensations, but you never know? Now, is this more 'Good News' I should be wary about? It was quite a while since I last took anything psychedelic when this occuted, but I have since, and was quite dramatically reminded of that NDE... quite a mild 'trip' I think, none of the energetic excitement of LSD, perhaps a modest dose of Mushrooms is a better comparison? Little fear, edgy panic or anxiety... unless you start dwelling on disturbing notions like
'Oh shit - I'm dead'.... DURATION: Unknown.
So, back I went, and can't quite recall how I re-entered my body... which was still running well when I awaoke, freezing cold, some 8 or 9 hours later... and had to face the music.... I'll save that however, suffice to say, if you thought you were suffering BEFORE the attempt, you ain't seen nothing until everyone's read their post!
