My girlfriend, who suffered from untreated borderline personality disorder, committed suicide three months ago, and I haven't been able to avoid it, despite being well aware of her persistent suicidal ideas and having access to the means to do so. She tried three times before, and in each of them I contacted 112 so she received medical assistance that she did not willingly accept, always asking for voluntary discharge and refusing continued psychiatric/psychological treatment; in all these attempts the intake of drugs was unimportant and her life was never in danger.
After three years of passionate love affair, intense in the affective aspect and plagued with occasions in which I felt emotionally abused, I was exhausted, emotionally exhausted and also began to perceive in it a real threat to my person, in the sense that I seriously considered that this woman whom I loved with true madness and devotion could destroy me completely. She also loved me very reallly much, genuinely, in her stormy and extreme way of being; I protected her and gave her peace, purity of feeling, affection, natural surroundings and serenity where she could enjoy the magic of nature when she came to my house to spend days with me, continuous support at all times from a distance since she lived in Madrid and I in Galicia, and new alternatives. I have lived with her in person moments of indescribable beauty and splendor and also stages of an affective hell, sunken and with tensions unleashed by its distortions and its outbreaks of irrationality. She was desperate until when it seemed that at last, after almost three years, she was planning a reset to her chaotic life next to me but I was very hesitant to continue for find myself exhausted and tremendously suspicious that if I accepted her with me she would end up with all my stability and could even make me end up having legal problems due to her uncontrolled anger.
After she received a call for a job offer in Madrid while her was in my house for two and a half months, recovering from a tonsil extraction, I advised her to accept and i provided her a series of documentary material to request help from the deserved state for her life's disastrous trajectory and obvious social exclusion, she called me the next day sobbing to insist that I let her return with me to what I responded it was best to continue the plan; I didn't want to bring her to keep in my house because my emergency savings are very small and not recoverable, I thought that the probability that everything would go wrong and on top of that I would lose my very tiny savings, that once spent I will be loss for ever and I would be left with nothing to fight things like diseases or broken glasses, it was very high. However, she would have a job where she had already been and said she was being treated well, and at the same time she could present the documentation to receive that benefit, which would free her from having to work illegally in a decadent place where she used to be half sedated because she hated that place; if granted it, it would be an opportunity to unite our income and be able to live acceptably without walking on the edge of the razor. Ultimately her grandmother had offered her home, she hated that place but it was an emergency "insurance".
I just wanted a time to recovery me and be able to decide calmly, in reality I loved this girl still very much and dreamed that she would change and leave behind her harmful side that made us both suffer, keeping only her beautiful part that was immensely beautiful and resplendent; she was the woman of my life. Time is all I was asking for, time to restore myself and recover the hope and excitement.
She spoke to me like saying goodbye to me, but she had already done this in the same tone several times before. She said,"Will you remember me?" Will you remember our happy moments? Will you forgive everything bad things I've done to you? I replied that I could never forget her because of the indescribable moments of beauty lived as a couple, that they were the only ones I would keep in my being and that we still had many more experiences to live together, as much or more splendid than those already lived. She told me she loved me, and I replied that I loved her too. The conversation ended when she told me that she needed to sleep, I told her to eat something and that if tomorrow she still felt the diffuse discomfort she told me about at the beginning of the conversation, she should go to the doctor. We kissed her goodbye with a kiss, and I sent her a message after hanging up where I told her: Not to despair, to do what I told her step by step because then all the perspectives would improve and if she felt lonely at any time she would call me to get into skype and comfort her talking, saying her goodbye with: "A very big kiss for you, my girl" and she said me: "Another kiss for you, enormous like my man." It was the last thing I talked to her, after not being able to contact her the next three days I found a way to contact a family member to see if I knew what was going on and she replied that they found her dead in her room, because of drug overdose.
This woman, twenty years younger than me and incredibly beautiful on the outside and inside, cultured and intelligent and from childhood devastated by a horrendous family where her father sexually abused her, with a youth shaken by the sordidness of being thrown into having to survive very hard times in the midst of the abandonment and marginalization of the streets in degrading environments, this valuable and brave woman whom I cared for as a daughter for three years with the intention of rescuing her from herself and the one I loved as the most important person in my entire existence has committed suicide and even though I did the best I knew. I now feel devastated and sunk by guilt, by not having discerned that this time it was for real and having warned 112 or having said to her: Take your things and come with me, now! In both cases she would be alive right now and I wouldn't feel like an asshole and selfish miserable. At times I feel that I should kill myself too and go in search of her, to scold her for what she did and then kiss her and merge with her in a hug that lasts all eternity but something in me stops me for now, it is like a feeling that it may not be a wise idea or maybe it is simple and vile cowardice... On the other hand, I feel like acquiring the conviction to end my life, to generate Somehow I think I want to be sentenced to death to expiate my guilt, but I need to feel that such a sentence is righteous to see the way clear.
A tremendously serious factor in my failure to rescue Yasmin from herself is that in 1997, I tried to kill myself with firm determination and without moral dilemmas for my own problems that I considered irresolvable; I failed and paid a very high price in suffering for it, facing the subsequent disgrace becoming a vagabond; I still have the scars in my ulnar veins (I remember that at that time I disposed of all my belongings, giving my possessions to my friends since I would not need them; in those years I had no hesitation and I felt the conviction that now I would like to unambiguously perceive to conclude) and this should have provided me with an infallible eye to detect immediately when things were serious. She threatened to kill herself many times, but she also gave me reassuring messages of lack of decision, and she was continually making plans and thinking about what was necessary to complete them; she wanted to travel to France with her friend Sandra, to make the way to Santiago with me, we were going to marry by the Celtic rite on the summer solstice, to finish high school and more.
He had enormous vitality, an overflowing sexuality... It was all so contradictory and disorienting that I came to believe that she wouldn't really kill herself, that she had that idea as a figurative resource that calmed her in times of crisis. As if touching your bag of pills has the same effect as touching an amulet. That every previous suicide attempt, by I made to quickly alert to 112 was really harmless reinforced this vision and made me reduce my vigilance. Now I feel completely broken; I do not know who I am or what I really am, I have no direction or purpose and my self-concept is that of a criminal bogged down in the mud of his inner filth, and immobilized by the lack of mental clarity to take charge of his destiny.
It is a long story that I cannot summarize in a single message. Sorry for my english, I'm from Spain
After three years of passionate love affair, intense in the affective aspect and plagued with occasions in which I felt emotionally abused, I was exhausted, emotionally exhausted and also began to perceive in it a real threat to my person, in the sense that I seriously considered that this woman whom I loved with true madness and devotion could destroy me completely. She also loved me very reallly much, genuinely, in her stormy and extreme way of being; I protected her and gave her peace, purity of feeling, affection, natural surroundings and serenity where she could enjoy the magic of nature when she came to my house to spend days with me, continuous support at all times from a distance since she lived in Madrid and I in Galicia, and new alternatives. I have lived with her in person moments of indescribable beauty and splendor and also stages of an affective hell, sunken and with tensions unleashed by its distortions and its outbreaks of irrationality. She was desperate until when it seemed that at last, after almost three years, she was planning a reset to her chaotic life next to me but I was very hesitant to continue for find myself exhausted and tremendously suspicious that if I accepted her with me she would end up with all my stability and could even make me end up having legal problems due to her uncontrolled anger.
After she received a call for a job offer in Madrid while her was in my house for two and a half months, recovering from a tonsil extraction, I advised her to accept and i provided her a series of documentary material to request help from the deserved state for her life's disastrous trajectory and obvious social exclusion, she called me the next day sobbing to insist that I let her return with me to what I responded it was best to continue the plan; I didn't want to bring her to keep in my house because my emergency savings are very small and not recoverable, I thought that the probability that everything would go wrong and on top of that I would lose my very tiny savings, that once spent I will be loss for ever and I would be left with nothing to fight things like diseases or broken glasses, it was very high. However, she would have a job where she had already been and said she was being treated well, and at the same time she could present the documentation to receive that benefit, which would free her from having to work illegally in a decadent place where she used to be half sedated because she hated that place; if granted it, it would be an opportunity to unite our income and be able to live acceptably without walking on the edge of the razor. Ultimately her grandmother had offered her home, she hated that place but it was an emergency "insurance".
I just wanted a time to recovery me and be able to decide calmly, in reality I loved this girl still very much and dreamed that she would change and leave behind her harmful side that made us both suffer, keeping only her beautiful part that was immensely beautiful and resplendent; she was the woman of my life. Time is all I was asking for, time to restore myself and recover the hope and excitement.
She spoke to me like saying goodbye to me, but she had already done this in the same tone several times before. She said,"Will you remember me?" Will you remember our happy moments? Will you forgive everything bad things I've done to you? I replied that I could never forget her because of the indescribable moments of beauty lived as a couple, that they were the only ones I would keep in my being and that we still had many more experiences to live together, as much or more splendid than those already lived. She told me she loved me, and I replied that I loved her too. The conversation ended when she told me that she needed to sleep, I told her to eat something and that if tomorrow she still felt the diffuse discomfort she told me about at the beginning of the conversation, she should go to the doctor. We kissed her goodbye with a kiss, and I sent her a message after hanging up where I told her: Not to despair, to do what I told her step by step because then all the perspectives would improve and if she felt lonely at any time she would call me to get into skype and comfort her talking, saying her goodbye with: "A very big kiss for you, my girl" and she said me: "Another kiss for you, enormous like my man." It was the last thing I talked to her, after not being able to contact her the next three days I found a way to contact a family member to see if I knew what was going on and she replied that they found her dead in her room, because of drug overdose.
This woman, twenty years younger than me and incredibly beautiful on the outside and inside, cultured and intelligent and from childhood devastated by a horrendous family where her father sexually abused her, with a youth shaken by the sordidness of being thrown into having to survive very hard times in the midst of the abandonment and marginalization of the streets in degrading environments, this valuable and brave woman whom I cared for as a daughter for three years with the intention of rescuing her from herself and the one I loved as the most important person in my entire existence has committed suicide and even though I did the best I knew. I now feel devastated and sunk by guilt, by not having discerned that this time it was for real and having warned 112 or having said to her: Take your things and come with me, now! In both cases she would be alive right now and I wouldn't feel like an asshole and selfish miserable. At times I feel that I should kill myself too and go in search of her, to scold her for what she did and then kiss her and merge with her in a hug that lasts all eternity but something in me stops me for now, it is like a feeling that it may not be a wise idea or maybe it is simple and vile cowardice... On the other hand, I feel like acquiring the conviction to end my life, to generate Somehow I think I want to be sentenced to death to expiate my guilt, but I need to feel that such a sentence is righteous to see the way clear.
A tremendously serious factor in my failure to rescue Yasmin from herself is that in 1997, I tried to kill myself with firm determination and without moral dilemmas for my own problems that I considered irresolvable; I failed and paid a very high price in suffering for it, facing the subsequent disgrace becoming a vagabond; I still have the scars in my ulnar veins (I remember that at that time I disposed of all my belongings, giving my possessions to my friends since I would not need them; in those years I had no hesitation and I felt the conviction that now I would like to unambiguously perceive to conclude) and this should have provided me with an infallible eye to detect immediately when things were serious. She threatened to kill herself many times, but she also gave me reassuring messages of lack of decision, and she was continually making plans and thinking about what was necessary to complete them; she wanted to travel to France with her friend Sandra, to make the way to Santiago with me, we were going to marry by the Celtic rite on the summer solstice, to finish high school and more.
He had enormous vitality, an overflowing sexuality... It was all so contradictory and disorienting that I came to believe that she wouldn't really kill herself, that she had that idea as a figurative resource that calmed her in times of crisis. As if touching your bag of pills has the same effect as touching an amulet. That every previous suicide attempt, by I made to quickly alert to 112 was really harmless reinforced this vision and made me reduce my vigilance. Now I feel completely broken; I do not know who I am or what I really am, I have no direction or purpose and my self-concept is that of a criminal bogged down in the mud of his inner filth, and immobilized by the lack of mental clarity to take charge of his destiny.
It is a long story that I cannot summarize in a single message. Sorry for my english, I'm from Spain