southerngale wrote:GalvestonDuck wrote:Stiffer penalties for what?
Clearly this was someone who reached the end of his rope. How are you going to punish him if he's already dead? You can't have penalties for suicides, stiff or lenient. Once they're dead, they're dead.
I completely understand where he's coming from now. Not that I'm going on a killing spree or anything. But I get that whole "Screw the world...everything is hopeless" mentality. I'd be more inclined to direct it only at myself though. Good thing handguns are still legal. For a mere $300, I can get an awesomely powerful .357 that is nice and short and easy to aim at my own head. Can't do it as easy with a rifle or shotgun...or rope or pills or razor or whatever.
This guy quit his job and had other things going on that we can never ask him about now. But he must have felt anger and hopelessness and was ready to give up on life. This wasn't just some random hood off the streets who started popping caps in people. This was a guy who felt he had nothing left. So, he took out what little he had left, along with a few by-standers who maybe he felt would stand in his way, and then he took his own life. Heck, he may not have even had a rap sheet.
Stiffer penalties in general. There are a lot of people who commit crimes only to get a slap on the wrist. Then they turn around and commit a much worse crime.
GD, I don't know what's going on, but it sounds like you need someone to talk to. Family, therapist, or someone you trust? Someone you don't know, but may can help? Maybe I'm jumping the gun, but I feel compelled to post these after reading your post. If you need anything, let us know.
1-800-SUICIDE
1-800-784-2433
1-800-273-TALK
1-800-273-8255
See, that's the funny thing about it. Yes, I need someone to talk to, but the person I trust the most who I would turn to for something like this -- she's not here. I didn't do enough and now she's gone. And it hurts like hell. I didn't see the signs...signs that I should have recognized. I've been there, so I should know. I should have been able to see it. Unfortunately, she was so completely not herself that I didn't realize how bad it was inside her head. I didn't know then what I know now. Some stupid pillpusher prescribed medicine that is not indicated for sleep, so she should have never been taking it. The most serious side effect -- "high suicide risk." It's all over the internet. And me, being the resourceful person that I am, I didn't know to look anything up. I didn't think to do any research. I didn't know then what I know now and now it's too late to know.
It's not like she's on vacation with her hubby or at a conference for work or that we're both working hard during a long, busy week and I just haven't seen her for a while. It's been two months and I can't accept the fact that I'm not going to see her again (here on earth). She is my best friend. She is the closest friend I've ever had. She is my support system. My parents are dead, I have no brothers or sisters, I have no significant other, no kids, nothing like that. She is the one person I could turn to for advice, for help, for laughs, for fun, for strength. And now she's gone. So that makes it really hard to get through this. It makes me feel alone. Yes, I know I have God. But right now, I feel alone. I am trying my damnedest to be strong and to have faith. I'm trying to remain the same gung-ho "This is my island and this is my hospital and we will be back" GalvestonDuck I've always been. But that's hard to do. It hard to do without the one person who made me feel stronger and more mature and more assertive and more fun and more special. After over 30 years of life, I finally found someone who really made me understand who I was and who I could be. For almost 8 years, I had the best friend that I think I will ever have. And now...I don't.
It's hard to start the day watching the news and seeing some goofy story that I make a mental note about and say to myself, "Gotta tell Niki about that one." It's hard to think about a new movie that's coming out because we won't get to see it together. It's hard to be happy about my apartment being liveable again or about the regents saying UTMB gets to stay on the island or about a Skywarn class. I'm trying. I'm making every attempt to keep living like she did. You hear so many times after someone dies, "She was so full of life." Well, that was definitely Niki...no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She brought me out of my shell and really showed me how someone can grab life by the horns and just go. I'm still very reserved and introverted, especially compared to her. But that made us a good combination as friends. We complemented each other that way. She did so damn much in life and I know I have a lot of catching up to do. And I keep trying to tell myself that. Like I mentioned the Skywarn class -- she'd get a kick out of knowing I did that because she knew I was something of a weather geek (at least, compared to most of the people we run around with, but pretty tame compared to people here).
And yet, as much as I try to tell myself that I've got to stick around for the recovery so we can stick it in all the faces of the naysayers, as much as I try to tell myself I've got to stick around until 12/22/2012, being the skeptic I am, so I can laugh when the end of the world doesn't happen, and as much as I try to tell myself I've got to stick around because, if it wasn't for the medicine, she'd still be here so I'd want to be around, it's not easy. It's not easy to want to stick around. It hurts that she's not here and that I could have prevented it. I tried to tell her it would be okay. I said we'd get through all of this. I even hid her husband's guns...or so I thought. I thought he had two...I was wrong, he had three. But even if I didn't know how many guns he had, if I had only looked inside the bag, I would have not seen the .357. And that's the key. I would have not seen it. I didn't know about all of his guns, but I knew the .357. I've held it. I've cocked it and pulled the trigger. I noticed how easily the gun fires with just barely a touch of pressure on the trigger once the gun was cocked. I've held it and thought to myself, "Wow...this is a big-arse gun with big bullets. If I ever get to that point again, this is what I'd use. This would do some serious damage." I've seen enough bullet wounds from working in the ER. I know what a bullet that size would do. But I never got to that point. I was there several times before I moved here to Galveston and several times before I met Niki. But like I said, she made me a stronger person. It would have never, ever happened with her around. But I can't deny that when I held that gun, I couldn't help but think how powerful it would be and how it was made to kill. I held it and didn't think about it as a weapon for killing someone else. I thought of it as an instrument of suicide. Even though I wasn't thinking about doing it then, I thought about how it would be if I did use it. So, I knew that gun. I knew all about that gun. I knew how it felt, how heavy it was, how it fired. And because I knew it, I should have looked at it that day. If I had, I wouldn't have found it and I would have known it was gone. I would have known how serious things were. But I didn't. And that mistake cost me the one thing that can never be replaced. Of all the things I lost in this damn storm, this was the one loss that I can never ever get over. I could have handled losing everything -- my car, my entire home, my photos, even my goofy, completely unimportant now Patty Duke movie collection. Heck, as hard as it is to say, I could have even handled losing every last picture of my mom and dad and my dad's dogtags if I didn't have to lose Niki. I could have made it. I could have dealt with losing everything if I still had my best friend. But now I don't.
And, I'm sorry...but I have to express it sometimes. I guess it comes out in weird ways. Especially since, here at work, my boss (a psych major, of all things) says I should wear a mask to hide my feelings and be happy when I'm here. "We all have bad days but we get over them." Um, yeah...okay. Bad day? Whatever.... So, then I read about someone who is having a "bad day" and I can sympathize. I actually have some sense of what he's feeling because I'm feeling it. Sure, I have a bit more self-control and I'm not going postal. But I won't deny that I've expressed some serious rage-filled anger towards the doctor who prescribed Niki's medicine. If I had seen him within the first few weeks of her death, I'm not sure I would have had the same strength and control. People often talk about how they'd kill a person if that person (rapist, molestor, bully, whatever) ever hurt a loved one. You can say it and you can imagine it, but until you feel it, there's no way to really describe it and no way to really understand the intensity of your emotions at that time. That's another thing that's odd for me. I'm such a pro-lifer that I used to talk about how I couldn't do something like that. I believe we wait for justice. I don't feel capital punishment should be something that we, Joe Citizen, can just depense in the streets on our own (not trying to get political). And yet, I know that I felt a lot of anger towards that doctor immediately after Niki died. My point is, no matter what my opinion or argument is, I know that emotions can be overpowering and some people lose control because of them. I think that's what happened to this guy. He reached his breaking point. I think it was a combination of pain/hopelessness and anger/vengeance that lead him to this homicidal-suicidal brink. And yes, I believe that it was his intention to die at the end of this rampage, either by his own hand or by suicide-by-cop. I don't believe he was just going on a killing spree with no intention of dying himself. I think he knew it would be his last day on this earth as well.
And my point in replying was that I understand that pain that he's feeling. I know how powerful that pain can be. I understand how dark and oppressive those feelings of loss and hopelessness are. I had to express it. It's dangerous to hold it in. That's something I've always believed. I believe that many of us don't communicate and express our feelings enough. That's part of why I believe that we should study those who kill before we turn around and execute them. I believe if we learn to understand and recognize signs and symptoms of those who are becoming overpowered by their own emotions (and better yet, recognize it in ourselves), we can learn to better control and prevent tragedies like that. And the best way to recognize those signs and symptoms is through open and honest communication and feedback.
I'm sorry if my post about buying a gun frightened some of you. I'm a writer, not a talker. I have actually talked some with people here at work. But I can't go to a therapist for obvious reasons (I don't want some quack who wants to medicate me). However, if the moment hits and I need to express myself in writing, even if it's dark, I'm going to do it. Sorry, but it was the best way to express myself rather than holding it in. I read the news, I felt his pain, I could relate, and so I said it. It was a bit extreme, but it helped to not hold back. It was therapeutic in a way.
I know I'll continue to have waves of overwhelming sadness and despair as I grieve and try to accept what has happened. It's not going to be easy. But I'm not going to hold it all in until I explode. That would be a mistake. I can't let that happen. If I did, it would lead to more tragedy. And like I said, I gotta stick around so when we recover (which appears to be happening a lot faster here than in NOLA *ahem!*) I can shove it in all the faces of the people who gripe about those of us living in hurricane zones. Plus, I want to be able to laugh at all the nuts who think the world is going to end in 2012.