Post by Deleted on Mar 5, 2015 15:42:24 GMT -6
The Quest for Happiness
John had been contemplating suicide for years and this fine mid-summer afternoon would be it. He had it all planned, the site, the way, the letter, the whole nine yards. He had spent weeks planning his exit. The site he had chosen was this beautiful island nearby. The site was a public place but he had carefully inspected the area, he had found the spot where no one would find him unless they’d be really coming close to him. He had also recorded which day were busy with bird watchers as they’d be everywhere with their various equipments when the days weren’t too sunny and hot. That wasn’t good for lone time. The Wednesdays were the day of the week when for some reason, they’d hardly show up. It would be very easy for him to get on the site, not being noticed going in and evidently, not being noticed not going back out.
John had spent weeks reading on suicide. Reading about celebrities and how they chose their way out, reading about the different ways on how anyone could exit this plane of existence without having a misfire. No guns. Guns are messy…and loud. He’d read stories of people jumping off bridges only to find themselves handicapped for the rest of their pitiful lives. He’d read stories of hangings going bad, leaving their perpetrators like in vegetable states. Crashing his car might hurt others in the process. John hated life but he didn’t want to hurt anyone else along the way. So on this fine mid-summer afternoon, he trekked into his designated spot with a back-pack, two bottles of Tylenols and a bottle of vodka.
John had spent days writing and re-writing his letter of resignation, or so he called it. He didn’t want to willfully hurt anyone with his words either, even if he recognized that the failure was his, some had participated in it, intentionally or not. His letter simply described that overwhelming pain, that pain that he could not stand any longer. The pain of living that had become too much. Death was a breeze compared to the fights of everyday living. Living was a torment, death, a formidable option.
John thought that he had figured out the whole nine yards. He was wrong. On that mid-summer Wednesday afternoon, there wasn’t a minute where he stayed truly alone. People were coming and going, some had seen him, which was bad, very bad. He waited and waited till a little before dawn and at no point was he left alone to make his wish come true. He was flabbergasted. He couldn’t believe that after all he’d carefully planned; after weeks of preparing what he thought was his masterpiece of creativity, another failure was being in the midst of its mid-creation. He’d failed once more.
John exited the site, on both his legs but with the feeling of having been beat up. He slowly walked to his car and started driving away. His only thought…”What now???”…
John could just not believe the bad luck that was restlessly sticking to his skin. He was disappointed, furious, angry, scared, sad, disgusted and depressed. A venomous mix of emotions entangled in the circuits of his brain…and heart. In his heart and soul, for some unknown reason, he thought that there was only one thing left to do on this crazy Wednesday night; if you can’t beat them, join them.
And so John drove to the closest hospital. The nurse asking him why he came to the emergency had one of those blank stares moment come up upon her face when John told her that he had just planned to commit suicide and failed, and thus thought that he might need medical attention. She immediately brought him to some little room, down the corridor and asked him to sit and wait, that the doctor would be there shortly. And he was. He took John’s blood pressure which was skyrocketing through the roof. He took John’s heartbeat which was definitely competing with his blood pressure results.
“Would you mind if we kept you overnight, Mr….., I don’t like the readings I’m getting here…” he said. “We’ll talk some more in the morning but for now I’d like to transfer you into a room and give you a little something to relax…”
What was John to do? The doc asked politely. John smiled at the thought of “we’ll talk some more” as he knew damn well that they didn’t do such a thing in the first place. But a rest seemed kinda nice.
That “overnight” became four months in the ward.
An ongoing psychological therapy had been approved, by both John and the medical staff. John had told his story to the panel of experts. One after the other, they told him that a fraction of what he had been going through would have been a catalyst for most other patients in the ward. After all, in a little less than a year, John had seen his marriage fail, the lawyers letters arrive nonstop, the court procedures, followed by a close friend of his dying of cancer, followed by losing his job, followed by being kicked out by a relative that had offered shelter when John had nowhere else to go, three days before Christmas, followed by starting a small business that would finally put the first nail in the coffin, so to say. Basically, in a little less than a year, John had nothing left. No home, no family, no job, just a friend or two but he didn’t want to abuse, and frankly, no hope. He had to admit it; he was beat. How he’d wished everyday that life would have been like a video game, just reset and start over again. Suicide seemed close enough to that reset. But the reality was way crueler than that.
It took four months of treatment and an assortment of colorful medications for John to get back to life.
After a year, John was off the meds. He had started another business – which would also fail – and he was living in a tiny little apartment, one he could afford with the very little money he was making. After three years, John had his first brand new short lived relationship – which would quickly fail – and he understood that it was preferable to live alone than to be with someone who didn’t connect.
Eight years later, John recognizes that the Quest for Happiness, the very thing that had him end his marriage in the first place, was in vain. The Quest for Happiness almost brought him to the Valley of death, at forty five years old. Now, on the verge of turning fifty three, John has found someone that he truly loves, someone that loves him in return, they’ve been “happily” together for two years, he owns a company that is not failing, he’s had that for a year and…”happy to say”…he now lives well.
John had read at some point that misery was the opposite of happiness. He’s realized that it’s not necessarily true. Misery is oftentimes the result of bad, very bad choices. Happiness, on the other hand, is not necessarily the result of good, very good choices. The Quest for Happiness may lead to misery and John is a shining example of that. The Quest for Happiness is elusive.
After all, a Quest for Happiness is an oxymoron in itself. Happiness is, or is not. No?
Truth is; happiness is an emotion that John, to this day, doesn’t fully understand.
John has settled for something more along the lines of “I’m feeling fine”…
And finally, before anybody asks...Yes, this story is true. Yes, I am John.
Thank you for reading.
