Day 150: The Faded Sun

The Faded Sun

“Was it your voice or another voice that told you to kill yourself?” the stranger asked.

“My own voice,” I whispered from a mouth I could no longer feel.

I brought myself forward in a chair, a purposeful push, only to prove to myself I could move, that my brain synapses fired.  I nodded solemnly in the direction of a blank white space.  There was a stain in the high corner.  I was unable to focus, unable for the first time to pretend.  I had always been able to follow someone, to take the cue from the people around me.  Here I could not.  Here, though I was clothed, I was stripped naked, paralyzed with the thought that there were no answers…

 

The rest of this story can be found in the book Everyday Aspergers

 

Maui 2012

 

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32 thoughts on “Day 150: The Faded Sun

  1. I’m so proud of you I know how hard this was to write and share but also how healing it was too. You are so strong and such a loving example of how us aspie women can rise above all the hurt, pain, fear, abuse, rejection and turn that negative to good. I know the future posts will be written on your experience and more healing will come both to you and those who read your words. I’m so grateful to God that He brought you into my life and made us friends.
    Love you my lovely friend. Me. xxx {{{HUG}}} ❤

    1. Thanks, Sweetie. 🙂
      Lots of healing transpiring. I had many years to process this experience and heal from the trauma of it. No more shame or regret; so happy that I went through the forest of dark and came out on the other end rebirthed in newness and hope. Thank you for reading this one, and for your continued support. Hugs 🙂

  2. Ah, my dear friend. People do not understand what you truly said unless they have gone through more than a small portion of it themselves. I remember my words to the doctor, “No, I don’t think about suicide, but, sometimes, I do wish I simply did not exist.” (hard to write those words, so I do understand a lot). Many years later, I smile, too. Who was to know that a near-fatal stroke would help my mind and thoughts so much?
    Scott

    1. Oh, I could feel the pain in your words, and know what you mean. Sigh. I am so thankful that you are in a happier place now, and glad that happy place is still earth. Hugs, Sam 🙂

    1. Although the subject matter is difficult, this is truly one of my favorite pieces of writing. Thank you for allowing me to share this with you and for your considerate and kind comment. 🙂

    1. I am glad you did not experience this type of trial. We each face our own unique challenges. I reaped many benefits and much growth from the experience, and it now feels like a lifetime ago. Thank you for your words. Sa

  3. awwww…bless your heart, my friend…i agree with kindredspirit23…anyone who hasn’t been through this awful experience…or maybe something close to it, will no doubt be able to understand what you wrote here…as for me, i totally connect with you…i can picture myself in that hospital bed, a mere 96 lbs. woman-girl sobbing…crying for help or really wanting someone to end it all for me…i od’d on diet pills…i didn’t know what was going on with me and my head…i heard the 2 nurses talking about how frail i was as they both helped me into my hospital gown…i was naked and one of them was saying…”yes, that’s a sign…” but in my clouded mind, i was oblivious to everything being said in that room…i remember everything from the start of this journey…still trying to piece everything together and why i was left on my own to discover my ‘aspie-ness’ and all the events leading to where i am now…

    i love how you wrote this post…i was like glued to it the whole time…lol…full of suspense 🙂 🙂 it’s not funny, but i’m happy for you, Sam…just happy for you 🙂 🙂 thanks for sharing another great blog…love and {{{{huggss}}}}

    1. Oh, dear one. How terrible. I can picture you there in that place so vulnerable and hurting. I am so very sorry you had to go such a very rough road. I hope you are much more happier and content with your being now, and loving the light that you are. Thank you for sharing. I’m glad you thought it had suspense….it sure felt like it in real life. Hugs to you fine lady. Keep shining bright.

  4. This was gripping…I’m not entirely sure what to say…Any comment I write seems to take away from what you have said…So, I’ll offer you a hug from sweaty Florida…Amazing post, Samtastic

    1. I think what you wrote is absolutely perfect. I see this is honoring my truth with your silence. So thank you very much. And the sweaty Florida hug….I think I’ll pass and wait for fall. You can hug me then. lol. Glad this one got a “Samtastic”; it is one of my favorite pieces that I have written. The pain is long gone. Six years seems like six decades ago. It’s not me anymore. Hugs from cool Washington with a refreshing ocean breeze…..now that’s a hug. 🙂 Sam

  5. What a tough time, Sam. It is hard to know what to say. I’m sorry you had to go through this—especially what led up to it. I hope things are much better now! I’m sure you remember me writing about the suicide of my brother many, many years ago. My world has never been the same since . . . suicide leaves many casualties in its wake.

    I’m glad we still have you! I wish you healing and peace!

    1. Yes. Suicide is tragic. That is why as soon as I had the thoughts I reached out to my spouse and to a doctor. I see this experience now as a blessing. It was the hardest experience of my life, but I came out of it much stronger and confident, and was able to release a lot of old energy I was attached to. I am so very sorry about your brother. I don’t think I could ever take my life, knowing how much it would hurt others. Thank you for your kind words. Love, Sam

      1. Never be afraid to reach out—someone will always be there! The world needs you, Sam! Wishing you nothing but the best! I’m proud to know you!

      2. I was also on a low dose Prozac for pain management at the time that added to me having those thoughts. I stopped the medication right away, and the thoughts stopped. I might write about that….not sure. But wanted you to know, so you know that I’ve got ME covered. Appreciate your concern, and I will never hurt myself. Promise! Proud to know you, too!!! Hugs, Sam

  6. Wow your an awesome writer. That’s how I feel when I’m at the doctors with my hubby. It’s tiresome. I love the healing tears bring. I sure shed a lot of them lately and starting to feel good 🙂 Thank you for your comment, I look forward to all you write!

    1. Thank you Maribel. I am sorry you feel that way at the doctors. Yes, tears bring much healing. I am glad you can feel better after crying. I know I do. Thinking of you and wishing you the very best. 🙂 Sam

  7. Oh Sam – so fearless and courageous to be able to express yourself on this difficult topic so eloquently. I’m so proud of the warrior princess you are. I understand – though maybe for traveling a different tormented path – but tormented nonetheless, so we share this bond. We also share the gift of sensitivity that is the product of these challenges ~ and I see the beauty in your spirit in your wonderful written expression with each and every post. Sending you giant hugs – crown, sword, and a magic wand to help you go back to the place that makes you feel loved, happy and safe whenever you need a little assistance… Love and Light Dear Sam… ~Robyn Lee

    1. Oh, I wish you were not tormented. I am happy we share a bond, but wish your torment away, every last drop! You are so lovely inside and out. So glad to know you. Thank you for your support and brightness. 🙂 Sam

  8. Oh boy. The long dark night of the soul. I’m very glad you made it to sun rise. My own dark night was long ago in college and it actually was a long dark night. I gripped the chair handles and refused to budge until I passed out from exhaustion because I knew the razors were in the bathroom. Too out of touch to seek therapy back then, I sought the relocation cure by hightailing it out of that place the next day. The hardest thing was to hear my sister describe her own experience years later. I like the saying: what doesn’t kill ya will make you stronger. And have more compassion for others. You have buckets full.

  9. Sam, I apologize for missing many posts and not following your journey. I find it hard to keep up, as most of us do, but I had to read this post before I read your latest…all I can say is I’m grateful you pulled out of the dark hole you were in six years ago..I have to be honest in telling you that I haven’t been “there” but have had my down moments. I love your healing tears (I’m a waterfall at times) and your last photo is awesome; the smile is beautiful and I hope you continue to smile. I’ll read your next post now, but thanks for sharing and for your visits over my way, too! Hugs and Blessings, Lauren

    1. The hardest thing for me about blogging at the moment is all the blogs I don’t have the energy to get to! No need to apologize, but super LOVELY to see you here. 🙂 I offer you hugs for all those moments you needed/need them. Glad to know there are other waterfalls out there. I will continue to smile, and am very happy to have connected. Blessings and love to you, Lauren. And I so appreciate your kindness. 🙂 Sam

      1. Your comments alone are going to make me cry! I have more water in my eyes than the water district! Anyway, hugs back and I’ll see you soon and thank you! xo

  10. This is such a personal thing. So many things to say and not. You needn’t ever feel a reason is owed or an explanation needs to be made. Experiences could never be fully 3D by writing. One must bring all their senses, their history, their life to each moment experienced and no one else has a right to judge another without fully understanding all of that. So, no matter what any of us says about understanding oought you may think we say by saying nothing at all is because of the histories that we bring to what we read into it.

    All I can say for certain is that you write exceptionally well and you have a talent to bring us in the room with you. Who you were then may be gone today, replaced by a brave, stronger, talented woman who attracts us all back again and again to satisfy what we need from you. And that makes you a generous and beautiful soul for sharing.

    1. Your words are very touching and so appreciated. I am in awe of your intelligence and insight. You often leave such thoughtful and very deep comments. What a gift you have in supporting others and uplifting. 🙂 I will take your words to heart. 🙂 Such very kind words, indeed. hugs, Sam 🙂

  11. As an Alcoholic it helped me to write an article about the devil that rode with me daily… it sometimes helps to get it out… not easy but I have the greatest admiration for you doing what you have… God will help and will always be there… devil on one shoulder, God on the other… Keep on keeping on… your in my prayers…

    1. I appreciate you sharing so openly about your journey. Writing helps me get lots of those unwelcomed hitchhikers out. Yes, God is always there. I was a 12-stepper (ACA, Alanon) for many, many years. I often hear in my mind: Let go, and let God. Thanks for the prayers. That is kind. Light and love to you, Sam 🙂

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