Hunter S. Thompson suicide

[TheEarl]

when i worked in the ER, i refused to take patients who tried to commit suicide. while i understand that there can sometimes be mitigating circumstance...it has always...always been a selfish act in my eyes.

Sometimes, it's not what you have to leave behind that drives you, but what you're trying to get away from. This too will pass, but sometimes its impossible to believe that there will be anything of you left afterwards.

It will pass though.

The Earl

 

[Boota]

I never said it was noble. All I said is that I can't bring myself to look down on someone who didn't make it through. For those of you who don't understand it, I'm glad you don't. I hope you never know what it's like.

I never made an actual suicide attempt. What I did could be considered a passive/aggressive suicide attempt, I guess. I used to participate in illegal fighting, hoping I would meet up with someone who would thrash me and I might die through that. The thing is, I'm overly competitive and I'm a natural bad ass, so I won the fights. I made some money and went on, no problem solved.

I decided a long time ago that it's the little things in life that make it worth living. So what I did was buy a gun. I got a calendar and everyday I wrote one thing in the box that made life worth living. It could be chocolate, beer, a cartoon I liked, whatever. Some days I couldn't think of anything and I put an X. On New Years Eve I counted up the X's as opposed to the reasons to live and there were a few more good than bad. So I put away the gun. If there were more X's than reasons to live I was going to off myself. I was surprised to find that there were more reasons than X's and I was prepared to carry out my plan. I ask myself sometimes if I really would have done it. I think I would have. I wasn't in the right frame of mind at the time. Fortunately, I dont have to find out.

A few years ago I was having heart trouble. Irregular beating and elevated heart rate. I went out walking one night, trying to settle my heart down. A little exercise always seemed to help it. This time it didn't. I felt pressure in my chest and pain in my left arm. Even though I am in very good shape, I recognized the symptoms as those described in a heart attack. So I did what anyone would do. I took off running at a dead sprint. I saw it as my opportunity to die without it looking like a suicide. My insurance would pay off for my parents if it came down like that.

As I was running I was trying to think of reasons to stop and try to get help. I thought of family and friends. Not good enough. Everybody dies, they'd just have to deal with it. And it's not like I'm going to blow my brains out and let them find me. I thought about my band. I had worked at that for years and loved it, but it wasn't happening for us. We couldn't keep anything going. Not good enough. I poured on the speed and almost blacked out, but I stayed on my feet. I had no reason to live.

Then I realized, "My book!" I had to finish my book. That stopped me. I turned around and started trying to make it back home, but I thought the damage had already been done. My heart wasn't slowing down and the pain was getting worse. I expected to drop over and die in the street, which was the plan a few minutes before. Right then, though, I really wanted to live. That was the turning point. If not for needing to finish my book I wouldn't be here now.

As you can see, I made it. I got to the hospital and was treated for a caffeine overdose. I never had caffeine, but then in one day I had three cups of coffee and a Mountain Dew Code Red. It was like when the college basketball player Len Bias died after doing cocaine once. My system was so clean that it couldn't handle the jolt. The doctor said that if my heart wasn't in such great shape it likely would have killed me.

The truth is, I never really wanted to die, or I would have made it happen. I just didn't want to live the shitty life I had. What saved me was that I finally found a reason to live. Now life is good.

As bad as that time in my life was, I'm glad I went through it. I've seen it in other people and I've been able to talk to them about it. I'll never know if I saved them from doing something to themselves, but just maybe something I said did help them. Saying that I understand suicide shouldn't be construed as a pro-suicide view. It is not. It's just what it says. Understanding.

 

[Joe Wordsworth]

I find myself--regardless of desire--unable to muster respect for most suicides. Some? Some I regard differently, ones involving physical pain and no chance of alleiviating it. Most, involving someone being emotionall unstable, maladjusted, or underdeveloped... I believe in the power of personal determination and self-willed excellence too much to see it as anything other than cowardice.

 

[Colleen Thomas]

I live with unremitting pain. Day in and day out. Pain so profound sometimes only the kind of drugs that shut my mind & body down can provide relief. There is nothing quite like a severe mirgane, nothing like feeling a rat is trapped in your head and ist trying to gnaw and claw it's way out through your eye. Suicide? Your damned right. I risk killing myself at least two or three times a month, when the pain is so blinding I disreguard all the cautions I know are needed with painkillers. After enough hours, enough days, and enough pain, death isn't something to be feared. It's the next minute of being alive and enduring when your body has run out of endorphins and adrenalin that is to be feared.

How can any one hope to stand in judgement? How can you hope to even approach a point where you can see what is being endured by a person to whom the only out has become death? I, who stand on the brink and dice with death fairly often, can't imagine myself able to judge another's pain.

 

[Guest]

Joe, someone suicidal doesn't want respect, or anyone's Ok or understanding. But it disappoints me when there is no compassion to be found in such personal tragic straits. I often think of Shakespeare's "quality of mercy" when I recognize human pain. I would not so easily call suicide cowardly. I'm just saying it, not argueing.

Perdita

 

[CrimsonMaiden]

I live with unremitting pain. Day in and day out. Pain so profound sometimes only the kind of drugs that shut my mind & body down can provide relief.

I know all to well what you are talking about Colly, except I don't have any medicine to numb it.



{{{HUGS}}} and hopes for relief for both of us.

 

[Colleen Thomas]

I'm sorry to learn of that Crim, Iwouldn't wish this kind of pain on anyone.

*HUGS*

 

[rgraham666]

*HUGS* Crim.

And to Colleen too.

 

[shereads]

Joe, someone suicidal doesn't want respect, or anyone's Ok or understanding. But it disappoints me when there is no compassion to be found in such personal tragic straits. I often think of Shakespeare's "quality of mercy" when I recognize human pain. I would not so easily call suicide cowardly. I'm just saying it, not argueing.

Perdita

Amen.

I posted this morning out of anger, having been the recipient of the gift that keeps on giving - the legacy of a suicide. But I'm not angry at Hunter S. Thompson, how can I be?

Years ago before I was diagnosed with depression I bought a book called "Final Exit" about how to kill yourself without screwing up. It was the first thing I ever ordered online. I thought if I asked Barnes & Noble to order it for me they'd have me locked up.

I went to a doctor and asked for a sleeping pill prescription. I horded them until I had the amount the book said I'd need to make sure I wouldn't end up just brain-damaged and on life support. When I knew I had enough, and when I knew I had a friend who would be able to take care of my dog, and when I had a plan about how to take care of that without making her suspicious, the only thing left was that I couldn't think of a way to convince my family it wasn't their fault. There were no magic words I could put in a letter that would make them know it was something inside me that was failing, and not anything they'd failed to do.

I knew that if I took my life, I'd leave my family and friends with a burden of guilt and pain as bad as what I was feeling.

I knew that when the time came, I wouldn't care.

That's what despair felt like. I was a step away from not being able to care about anything except making it stop.

I had nothing left to lose, so I agreed to try Prozac, and I was one of the lucky ones that were helped by it. It pulled me back a foot or two from the abyss, just enough that I could reevaluate some things. I can't say I'll never find myself there again. Lately, the one thing that makes me wonder if there's any point in going on is the ever-present reminder of loss. HST's death prodded a wound that hasn't healed, from another suicide, and a history of it in my family. That's another damaging thing that suicide does: It makes us fear reaching that state of despair again, and fearing it can be self-fulfilling.

I'm so sorry he felt no hope. And for you, Rob. I know I only had a bitter taste of what you felt. I'm so sorry.

This morning talking in PM to someone here, I gave a lot of thought to what it means to take your own life, and under what circumstances people can be driven to disregard the consequences to the people they love.

Joe, Luckster, Vella, and everyone who thinks it could never happen to you; that if nothing else, your concern for your loved ones would stop you: I can only say, dont be so sure.

You'd run into a burning house to save someone you love. But if the only way to save your loved ones from pain was to stand in the fire itself, and not try to get away, you would sacrifice them. You would have no choice. If you doubt it, try holding your hand in fire and see if you give a thought to your family before you pull away.

Despair, when you become convinced that it's your permanent state, is a pain of the soul that's just short of being immersed in fire. That's why Hell is described as a place where we're plunged into fire; whoever came up with that description had glimpsed despair and knew that it could hurt like the worst physical pain. Hell is hopelessness. Hell is despair.

It's the thing that can finally feel so unbearable that you don't care anymore if your son finds your body in a pool of blood, or if your closest friends watch you throw yourself over the balcony railing, and if their screams are the last thing you ever hear. You're incapalbe of caring. You're consumed by pain. Who deserves our compassion more?

I'm angry with the darkness, not the people who do what I came so close to doing.

Rest in peace, Doctor Gonzo. Thank you for writing. I'm so sorry for what happened to you. I'm so sorry for what your family has to go through now.

 

[Huckleman2000]

I'll toss my hat in with the other depressives in the thread. Suicide is selfish? Of course. Depression is a disease that blinds you to hope, friendship, love, anything that's external and eases pain for others who are not depressed. A hug, a smile - what are these when it's beyond your capacity to accept them? It's a very selfish disease, and isolation only hastens the downward spiral. What do you do when you see yourself on railroad tracks heading into an abyss? I tend to hide in a fetal position under the covers for a bit, trying to convince myself that this utterly convincing and sensible viewpoint is just the case of some brain chemicals locked onto the rails of least resistance for awhile, and with rest and sleep I will be able to muster the energy and courage to jump the tracks. Others probably aren't blessed with my laziness. That's the danger when you start taking antidepressants - that you'll get some energy and off yourself, before you can figure out how to jump the tracks you're on.

I'm certainly not condoning violent suicide or saying it's a person's right - it's just that I understand the impulse. It's not that people aren't in their right mind - it's that their mind isn't right. I don't know how else to describe it.

 

[SlickTony]

Razors pain you, rivers are damp
Acids stain you, and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful, nooses give
Gas smells awful, you might as well live

--Dorothy Parker

Actually, my grandfather hanged himself in his basement, back in 1971. He was losing his health, my grandmother had died of cancer years before and he still missed her, he'd outlived most of his friends, and he was just depressed. None of us were thrilled, of course, but we kind of understood where he was coming from.

 

[lucky-E-leven]

For me it was not a matter of experiencing a change of perspective. I love life and the time I was on the very edge of leaving it I knew I did not want to die, I merely couldn't bear the pain I was in. I was lucky, but I do credit myself with finally getting the courage to call someone who knew just what to say to make me go on another day, and another, etc.

I was never so frightened as I was before I made my call. I cannot begin to describe it but I really felt everything was out of my control, hardly less than if I'd been attacked by someone who wanted to murder me. That it was me was more frightening. Even thinking about it now scares me.

Perdita

I really appreciate you sharing that. I can't imagine feeling as you must have, and I have spent a fair amount of time trying. I've been searching for a long time, trying to gain a little perspective. I have to say how much I admire the courage it took to make that phone call. I received a hastily scrawled letter, written by my best friend, handed to me by his bereft mother on the day of his funeral. I doubt I will ever fully understand the depth of despair and pain one must be in to contemplate/attempt/commit suicide, but heaven help me, I do try.

Essentially, I hope that others, like yourself, are able to lend an ear and some true understanding if the need arises.

~lucky

I guess that makes us even, lucky.

As I noted a few weeks ago, there are facets of your life that I have trouble comprehending and difficulty not judging.

And there are facets of mine where the same can be said for you.

Rob,

I don't want to agree to disagree on this. I honestly want to understand, though I know my capacity to fully understand this subject is limited. I try not to judge. Sometimes I succeed, other times I fail. That said, I have always admired your candor and honesty regarding your past, and my opinion of you stands in the same bright light it always has.

~lucky

The truth is, I never really wanted to die, or I would have made it happen. I just didn't want to live the shitty life I had. What saved me was that I finally found a reason to live. Now life is good.

As bad as that time in my life was, I'm glad I went through it. I've seen it in other people and I've been able to talk to them about it. I'll never know if I saved them from doing something to themselves, but just maybe something I said did help them. Saying that I understand suicide shouldn't be construed as a pro-suicide view. It is not. It's just what it says. Understanding.

Scary stuff, Boota. I'm glad you shared that. I try very hard to keep my own pain from selfishly guiding my opinions on this matter, and hearing that you and others are willing to admit the depth of your disparity and testify to the value of life thereafter could just be the glimmer of worth someone remembers down the line.

~lucky

 

[shereads]

Essentially, I hope that others, like yourself, are able to lend an ear and some true understanding if the need arises.

~lucky

As Dr. M once pointed out in the depression thread, there is shame attached to depression and, eventually, a feeling that we shouldn't ask for understanding because we don't deserve it. If it gets worse after that, you're not thinking anymore. Just jerking your hand out of the fire.

 

[Joe Wordsworth]

I don't maintain that my opinion is an accurate representation of what suicidal people are either like or fail at. As I said, regardless of a desire to maybe think differently of it, that's just what I have come to believe. Not a voluntary thing, really.

I think too highly of one's own ability to make something of themselves to respect failure. It is unfortunate, and even lacking compassion, but true.

 

[lucky-E-leven]

As Dr. M once pointed out in the depression thread, there is shame attached to depression and, eventually, a feeling that we shouldn't ask for understanding because we don't deserve it. If it gets worse after that, you're not thinking anymore. Just jerking your hand out of the fire.

I can see that, but that's why I feel so strongly that people who've been there should (if able) perpetuate as much of that understanding as they can.

To be perfectly honest with you, this sort of thing shakes my very foundation. Many of my core elements are in direct contrast to that lack of control and total desperation. All I keep learning is how inadequate I am simply because I lack first hand experience. The only thing left for me to do is hope that the experience of some can and will be used for good to aid others, without judgment or fear of shame.

~lucky

 

[dr_mabeuse]

Despite what happened, let's not forget that this was a man who didn't just grab onto life, he got his teeth into the main power line and never let go. He not only lived on the edge, he laid out a table and chairs and had a party there. He was nothing if not extreme in everything he did.

You think of other writers who killed themselves through drink: Kerouac, Fitzgerald, Faulkner... Long, slow suicides. Long rearguard retreats from their pain, sacrificing bits of themselves along the way.

When all is said and done, HST might not have taken the worst way out. I'll remember him more as a writer and character than I will as a suicide.

--Zoot

 

[shereads]

Who else could go for some ether right now?

 

[Kassiana]

I considered suicide before, when my husband was planning to leave me for someone he'd met on the Internet. I was in constant emotional and physical agony. I tried lots of things to alleviate my pain and nothing worked, not the singing I loved or my pets or time with my church/friends/family. However, being far too analytical and intellectual, I analyzed my options and concluded that there was no truly fail-safe suicide method.

If I'd read a book like Final Exit, though, I might not be alive today. My daughter would never have been born, and my husband probably would have run off with his Net fancy (who turned out to be even more crazy than I was at the time) and gotten his heart broken even worse.

I'm glad I didn't know about it at the time. I'm glad my therapist taught me that yes, it is possible to make yourself happy and no, it isn't a betrayal of your base personality to do so.

Maybe it would have been selfish to do so, but if you lived in a world where you were constantly suffering and nothing you tried to do mattered, what else is there? Cutting? Some people try it and it works for a while. It's addictive and very harmful and can lead to unintended death. Therapy? If I hadn't gotten in at my local health center at the right time, I wouldn't have been able to get therapy because I couldn't have afforded it.

I would never condemn someone because their attempt succeeded, or because it became more than a serious, repetitive image in her/his mind (for a while my mind would randomly flash on blood pouring from my veins...very scary). I wouldn't endorse it, either, but stopping it does mean freeing up some serious resources for people and ensuring that those who most need them realize that they need them and that they're available. With the current administration in power, I don't think that'll happen on a federal level. I'd encourage local action in your communities if you want to help prevent suicides.

Off the soapbox now. Thanks for your patience.

 

[matriarch]

Unless you've been there, you will never, NEVER understand.

I've been there.

I don't EVER want to be there again.

Mat

 

[Lucifer_Carroll]

I'm not judging anyone here, I just don't agree that there is anything noble about taking your own life. I don't think that's what most here are advocating, but every time this topic comes up I walk away from it feeling that tone. I know the topic is intensely personal, but I always want to ask those speaking on behalf of suicide just how they feel about life. You're here now, so either you speak from experience of being on the verge of suicide or you've actually attempted it and lived through it. I have a difficult time wrapping my mind around the statements, "Don't judge me. You don't know what it's like." from someone who's experienced a change in perspective somehow to now be grateful enough about their life that they aren't trying again. I guess I just wonder what it is in you that changes and why you don't promote the hope of that happening for others instead of leaving it at, "Sometimes, you do what ya gotta do."
~lucky

Good on you to say something like this. Really, good on you.

While this subject always seems to bring up that "suicides are weak little selfish shits" vs. "you don't understand what it was like" debates, it's nice to see some people who have the real meaning.

Suicide isn't noble. It isn't glorious. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't touch anything. The messages one wanted to send will never be received. But still it isn't to be disdained. Ridiculed by fuckwits with happy little lives and no real pain to speak of emotionally or physically.

I remember back when I made my choice that there would be no harrow, no pain, no event that I would not still fight through and resist suicide for and live. And that wasn't a noble choice either. It was mostly born of a fear of death.

Still, when you've been to the edge where you make one choice or the other. Whether to die then or always live no matter what, you do finally understand the inunderstandable. Something even the strongest empathy has difficulty touching. And in truth there's probably no nobility anywhere in any choice.

Just life or death.

Rest well Hunter S. It's over now. For worse or worse.

 

[NoJo]

Despite what happened, let's not forget that this was a man who didn't just grab onto life, he got his teeth into the main power line and never let go. He not only lived on the edge, he laid out a table and chairs and had a party there. He was nothing if not extreme in everything he did.

You think of other writers who killed themselves through drink: Kerouac, Fitzgerald, Faulkner... Long, slow suicides. Long rearguard retreats from their pain, sacrificing bits of themselves along the way.

When all is said and done, HST might not have taken the worst way out. I'll remember him more as a writer and character than I will as a suicide.

--Zoot

To me, he was the upside of the NRA.

 

[shereads]

To me, he was the upside of the NRA.

All those guns in the house and the giant bats got to him anyway.

 

[rgraham666]

I think too highly of one's own ability to make something of themselves to respect failure. It is unfortunate, and even lacking compassion, but true.

Once again proving, logic doesn't care.

 

[Guest]

All those guns in the house and the giant bats got to him anyway.

I suspect writing is a bit like fucking, which is only fun for amateurs. Old whores don't do much giggling.
- Hunter S Thompson

Mad: affected with a high degree of intellectual indipendence.
- Ambrose Bierce

 

[Joe Wordsworth]

Once again proving, logic doesn't care.

It doesn't prove anything about logic, how you came to that as a conclusion is beyond me. It's neither a participant in logic nor is it a rational followthrough. Just a believe, and one independant of conclusiveness. Let's leave logic out of this, unless we're entertaining it being brought in.