Two years. It’s been two years ago today since I jumped off that wretched building. Swan dived into what I thought would have been my end. Instead I ended up with multiple fractures in my pelvis and a broken back. Two years ago, it was a Tuesday. Funny the details you don’t forget.
Every time I pass by that building, I still look up there and wonder how many people would have been [un]lucky enough to have survived that and still walk today.
Every time I pass by that building, I find myself asking God why he allowed the angels to catch me as I free fell. Because that was what the nurses were saying to me when they brought me to the emergency room. They said God’s angels were looking out for me. Or was that just part of my hallucination? Why was He suddenly looking out for me in that brief second of my life when I finally had the courage to say enough is enough!?
So it’s been two years. I’ve healed physically yet am reminded of it by the pain that comes and goes in my back. You can’t jump off a building and not mark your body permanently in some way. Just as you can’t jump off a building and not mark your emotional soul in some permanent way.
There is no despair quite like the despair that boils over to a point where you are dangling over the edge of a precipice and you make that detached yet purposeful leap into empty air. There is simply no more hope in a fractured life that eventually spits you out and leaves you for dead…. except you AREN’T dead, and you aren’t quite alive either.
When you’ve been in that kind of dead zone, there are some things you shouldn’t be afraid of anymore. But then again, there are a lot of ghosts that are left permanently haunting what’s left of my mind. And often, I still get scared.