As I have mentioned, my time in North Carolina was godawful. It shouldn’t have been godawful, but I was in a very bad place, and very bad things happened.
I was ashamed, but I’m not anymore. I was skipping along the line of suicide for years, and the culmination of everything from about November 2011 to May 2012 finally pushed me over the edge. I leapt from a high bridge as the tide was going out and came out physically unscathed and covered in mud.
I didn’t want help. I had resolved years before that there was a point of intolerability, and I reached it. I never thought I would get there, but I did. Five years later, I can’t believe I go to that point. I could no longer fake it until I made it. Everything was wrong and that was that.
I mean, five years later, I can’t believe I gave up. I gave up. Elliott Robinson doesn’t give up.
And that’s what I felt as I dragged myself out of the Elizabeth River and got some help.
I remembered a passing phrase my maternal grandmother once said: “It takes more than that to stop me.”
The plight of The Rat in “Jungleland” seemed to cover what I was going through.
There was a chance to go back to my old job in Hopewell and have a proper exit and move forward. I took that opportunity.
I was going to move back to Virginia.
I was going to hit the reset button.
I both realized I lost myself and found myself as I decided that whatever was pulling the strings wasn’t expecting me to force quit.
As I resided in the institution I checked myself into after my emergency room visit, I decided that I was going to take a more active role in what happened next.
Not dying made me more determined.
I wasn’t less sad at this point, but I was more determined.
This is why I cut off my blog posts about 2013. I reached a nadir I never thought I would reach, and damn it, I’ll never reach it again.
It takes more than that to stop me.
I’m getting ahead of myself here. I bought a replica “Bad Mother Fucker” wallet. As in what Samuel L. Jackson’s character had in “Pulp Fiction.”
Life got its one chance before old age. It missed. I’m still alive and rarin’ to go, you fuck. Nobody gets rid of Elliott Robinson that easily.
Next: I wasn’t fully happy, but fuck this.