God will always be an interesting subject, because of the controversial nature of the subject. A whole lot of people don’t believe in such a Being. And an even greater majority does and always has. In some form or another, most great minds believed in metaphysical beings or one metaphysical being. Or variations of one metaphysical being in a multiplicity. However you look at it, there have been Believers throughout history. And I won’t call Benjamin Franklin dated, even if he wasn’t perfect. I won’t call Albert Einstein dated. And a whole plethora of genius thinkers who came to choose to believe in a Deity.
And so we may say that one can choose or choose not to believe in God. Why? Because by-and-large, the descriptions of such a Being place Him in the vast unknowable. She may have the power to create universes and heal the sick and blind, according to stories. And so you have Spiritual Books: Torah, Old and New Testament, Koran, Tao Te Ching, and many others that either directly or indirectly describe the Being that is God. Or describe various ways in which She manifests into one or more beings. And the ironic thing about most spiritual books, which form religious institutions, is that there is Gnosis in the book, or knowledge. And for some people, this gnosis is enough literature the mind needs. Books written by God to people only for the sake of spiritual revelation and divination. And perhaps, in this world, that’s all one really needs to read, then turn on their favorite soap opera or reality show.
I have talked with many people of faith. And some don’t even know the history of Christianity and are Christian. The reason the priest or pastor holds mass was because he was literate and could interpret the Latin or Greek for people who were illiterate and foreign speakers. They could read the Gnosis. That is what made them spiritual pillars of the community. And they formed a hierarchy as they do today.
The reason for the 101 is because I want atheists to be aware that I understand my heritage, where the priest comes from, who taught me before I had a choice, the Bible. However, the idea of atheism is intriguing and easy. When I say out loud “God,” I don’t get a verbal response. Empirically, he is just as much there as a chimerical banshee. And we can look at the wonders of what saying there is no God can do: sciences that can disprove the metaphysical universe; sciences that describe everything in the known universe. Or just about everything. God or Moses or Mohammed isn’t going to tell me the answer to why a bird can fly. No, I will go to science and find out. And science is secular. Science is so alluring that business and art can be sciences. The scientific method is indeed a powerful tool.
I once saw the Dalai Lama speak. He was very ecumenical in his beliefs. Someone asked him if science and medicine were better than praying, the Dalai Lama said: “People prayed for thousands of years. Nothing changed. Technology came. Everything changed.”
And so it is very seductive to say there is no God, if you are a skeptical person. I value skepticism. And yet, I know that it may still be possible that there is a God. Science can disprove all the books that have some metaphysical claim to them, but they cannot disprove God. Even philosophers cannot logically disprove there is or is not God. So it comes down to an individual choice, a speculation as to, when I wake up, is what animates me, the wind, the birds, the earth itself, galaxies upon galaxies—was this created by a Being? I say yes. I also say a lot of crazy things, especially when I have talked to psychiatrists, therapists, and the lady on the other end of the number: 1-800-SUICIDE.
A few months ago, when I was finishing my degree and working full time as well, I went off my medication. I was on a heavy dose of anti-psychotics and mood-stabilizers. I was uncharacteristically stressed and agitated. The magazine I worked for “covered” upscale living and high-end products, in Miami Beach. I became so disenchanted with the job, so disgruntled, that I wrote a 17 page essay in 1 day and revised it in 2. I was a maniac.
I have called suicide hotlines several times. They won’t talk to you when you’re inebriated, by the way. But when I call I’m usually sober and crying. Dark feelings of loneliness and hopelessness consume me. Not in the type of depression that makes me want to sleep, but in the type that I don’t want to face people, I will never get a girlfriend, I hate my job, I do things all wrong. You know, all that type of worry and misery the military could have stomped out of me at 18—maybe. All that worry that, if I am on my medication, then scraping by wouldn’t give me time for—maybe. Fears, anxieties, angers, hatreds. Such a ball of confusion and lost hope in the Ivory Towers of Big Cities or Bored Little Towns. And so I have called 1-800-SUICIDE, because I know that the more I start to think about suicide, ideate on it, and think about ways to off myself, the more I will do it.
And when I do call, the lady or gentleman listens to my story and I can go on. Like a confession to the anonymous. And they may give helpful suggestions. But, usually, the secret of suicide is let out in the open and can breathe. And can go away for the day.
July 4th 2011, I may or may not have called the suicide hotline, I don’t remember. But I told my mother and psychiatrist over the phone I was going to commit suicide. And, reader, this time it was serious. I was driving, thinking only of suicide, from Hilton Head Island to Miami. I was going to clean out my apartment there and move back to Hilton Head. But I stopped into an Econolodge, in Brunswick, GA.
I had been off my medication between March and May. I was back on my medication, but I still needed medication adjustment. I was so agitated. So I got a room in broad daylight, got a Coke from a Wafflehouse next door, while they were cleaning my room. I went to my room with my laptop. There I looked up what Abilify could do, on Wikipedia, for a minute. I poured out three near-full pill bottles on the table, while I smoked cigarettes. Then I took three huge handfuls of Abilify, Depakote, and Perphenazine, washing them down with the Coke. I wrote a note saying how bad I was, then just kneeled on the floor against the bed and talked to God. I didn’t feel anything for a little while. Then I felt a slight tingling. I heard a huge noise, and wondered if I was dead. I freaked out after the noise and stepped out in the hall and asked for help from the workers at Econolodge. Four or five paramedics came in a matter of minutes and told me it was serious.
They took me in the ambulance. First things first, I signed the bill. Then they inserted an IV and rushed me to the Hospital. Paramedics are the most professional and nicest men and women in their field, I think. I’ve had to deal with them before. They explained to me that I could go into liver or kidney dialysis. The paramedic who sat with me was from NY, had worked as a paramedic for 20-some years, and was just really nice. I asked if he’d seen anybody die from these pills. He said yes, usually found dead at home. I think the care and attention was warming me up and then when I thought about what exactly I had done, the survival instinct kicked in, and, Lord, I was afraid.
I was expecting the show ER at the Brunswick Hospital. You know, them running me in, saying they need to pump me. Doctors barking things; nurses seductively leaning over me and scurrying away to follow whatever order was barked. Wrong. It was quiet with everyone at their stations. I was wheeled in on my back, sort of at reclining chair angle. They gave me a room, asked me questions, wanting to see my healthcare card. They wanted to know how many pills and what pills I exactly took. And three or four separate people asked me these same questions at different intervals. I guessed somewhere between 20 and 30 of all of the pills. I signed forms. Then they gave me charcoal to drink, which I have heard is a very old method of cleaning the bowels. And I was either unconscious or was using the portable toilet in my room. The toilet had a diaper. They kept count of the amount of times I used the toilet, which I’m guessing now was—in the span of 2 days—5 or 6 times.
They took blood samples to test my liver every 4 hours, which doctors later told me they did a thorough job. Then they took me to another room where I was confined for 3 days. I was considered not only a threat to myself, but to others. I couldn’t leave but twice and only with very special permission to walk down the hall. And I had to have an Aide be present. All for 3 days. It was fine till the 2nd day when I was considered medically sound, though my liver was ticklish and enlarged. After going stir crazy, I left the hospital, and was sent to a lockdown house nearby for one week.
Overdose Symptoms of Medicines
Symptoms of overdose may include the following for Abilify: drowsiness, weakness, widened pupils (black circles in the middle of the eyes), nausea, vomiting changes in heartbeat, movements that you cannot control, confusion, seizures, loss of consciousness
Symptoms of overdose may include the following for Depakote: sleepiness, irregular heartbeat, coma (loss of consciousness for a period of time)
Symptoms of overdose may include the following for Perphenazine: difficulty responding to surroundings, coma (loss of consciousness for a period of time), seizures, fast or irregular heartbeat
Pub Med Health.com
My psychiatrist told me there were two main threats from my method of suicide attempt:
1. Kidney or Liver dysfunction or dialysis
2. Or I would fall into such a sleepy state that I would stop breathing.
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