How I Suicided Not: The Continuing Story

By Mary Weldon

How I Suicided Not: The Continuing Story picks up where the first book left off. It covers the life of the author up to age forty-seven, whereas the first book covered up to the early to midthirties of the author.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Oct 3, 2017
• ISBN: 9781543444834

Mary Weldon

My name is C. M. Andries, and I am from the Syracuse area. I have been writing fictional stories since I was twelve to fourteen years of age. I started off writing about Greek mythology but destroyed the manuscript because I thought it substandard. My teachers and friends thought I was foolish and called me a perfectionist. Ultimately, I triumphed and started the final book. This story is loosely based on the life of someone I love. I live at home with a fiancé. We have one child together.

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Copyright © 2017 by Mary Weldon.

ISBN:                  Softcover                        978-1-5434-4482-7

                            eBook                              978-1-5434-4483-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

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Rev. date: 08/18/2017

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Contents

Credits

Introduction

Part One    2004-2017

Part Two    Observations

CREDITS

This book is dedicated to, among others, my family and friends. They have all been a blessing in my life and in the lives of others. All of the above have been exceptionally supportive and helpful. This includes especially my boyfriend of ten years. Last but not least, I thank God who is our Father, and Master Jesus, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and St. Joseph her Spouse. Also, St. Jude, the patron saint of hopeless causes, and St. Dymphna, who is the patron of people with mental health disorders, especially anxiety. I also like St. Padre Pio, the famous priest from Italy, who had the stigmata, or the wounds of Christ, on his hands and feet.

INTRODUCTION

How I Suicided Not, The Continuing Story, picks up where the first book left off. It covers the life of the author up to age 47, whereas the first book covered up to the early to mid-thirties of the author.

It is important to note once again that mentally ill people are usually not violent. The statistics bear this out. I feel strongly that when mass shooters allege that they are mentally ill, it is scapegoating and using an excuse for their behavior. Criminality is not the same thing as having a mental illness. People who are violent in my opinion are criminals, not mentally ill. It gives the mostly peaceful mentally ill a bad name when we blame mental illness for criminal acts. The mentally ill are far more likely to hurt themselves than others, or to be the victims of a crime, not the perpetrators of one.

Domestic violence and sexual assault are far more prevalent than mentally ill violent people. That should be one of our focuses as a society. Abusive people need help whether they are mentally ill or not. We need more funding for clinics and hospitals, including long term ones, which are sometimes called state hospitals. The latter helps people who cannot resolve their issues in a short period of time, and keeps people from suicide and death.

Also, I have noticed that when people are mentally ill, sometimes the people around them attribute everything they do that doesn’t look or sound right to them, to the mentally ill person’s illness. That isn’t nice or correct. People have feelings, and sometimes they get upset, and that is not about their mental illness. It is human nature. When someone has feelings, they have to be expressed, and sometimes over the years family has rejected them because of their illness, and so on top of it, everything they say or do comes to be viewed as part of mental illness. If others can try to be patient with them, it helps a great deal that they have someone to talk to. Everyone needs a friend. Please try to have patience with mentally ill people when they are down as well as when they are up. And it is good if people don’t call someone crazy or nuts, those are negative terms which should not be used in our society anymore. We are better than that. No one would want to be called names themselves, therefore we should not call names to others.

God bless you and I hope you like the book.

Namaste and peace to you.

Mary Weldon

PART ONE

2004-2017

After my love interest Poet took off for California, I rarely heard from him and was beginning to realize I had to move on. He was depressed and suicidal, and I sent him homemade cookies twice. He came back briefly, when I was 31, but made no commitment to me, so I gave up. It was partly my fault because I didn’t know enough to make the first move. I had tried being passive and it didn’t work. The times I tried to make the first move always backfired too. I didn’t understand him-I was a good woman, but he kept going after one particular nasty one. She used him and spit him out like trash. And he still wanted her back. I tried to get him to realize what he was doing to himself. He cut his arms to ribbons after she left him. He was not trying to kill himself when he did this-self mutilation or cutting is not always about suicide (there is information about it on the internet. If you know anyone who cuts, check out the internet). People who do this to themselves are trying to get a release of endorphins when they cut (endorphins are the good feelings you get when you exercise) and it usually works. It always stopped his migraines. I should have told off the woman he kept going after, but I was afraid of her. I thought she would try to cause problems for me. I kept my mouth shut so she wouldn’t.

Meanwhile my sister was coming up to visit and I couldn’t wait for her to arrive. It was 2004. I was in a decent group home where there was plenty of companionship. The staff were nice to us. I had been in their apartment program and was now in a group home, because that was decided upon when I left one of the hospitals. It made my family somewhat more relieved because they knew I wouldn’t take an overdose again. Honestly, I thought, would the scrutiny ever end? I felt trapped sometimes. But they were rightly thinking of me, my future, and their love for me. See, in group homes they lock up the medicines, so you cannot try to overdose on your pills. So that was the rationale for why I was now in a group home. My doctor said he did not want to see me in there for too long; he would like to see me get my own place again in 3-6 months and look for work or volunteer. People don’t need group homes for a long period of time generally: it is a stepping stone for some people, to another apartment and independence.

When my sister arrived in her friend’s car, we went out to eat at a pizza place. It was my favorite. She brought me presents too, from where she lived, but I no longer remember what they were. She was doing well-I don’t