My night in the woods

by Mimi Bordeaux

I am driving very fast for I have a destination and I want to get there. Multiple drugs coursing through my bloodstream.

I have my instrument of death. I can’t remember when I last ate, my appetite as extinct as my sleep. Rolling over up and down in the sheets for three months restless as a snake. Sleep depravation ravages one’s soul to a ghostly wan draft.

I move from the loungeroom saying goodbye to an oblivious mother down in the garage. My souped-up old sports car, a Toyota Celica is heavy and reliable. I back out cruising to the main road where I leadfoot it. It has started to rain. The National State Forest where I am going. It’s not far and a well kept part of this area. I guffaw silently to myself at the face on whoever finds me, hanging by a trusty heritage tree’s branches.

As I’m driving, the car starts spinning out of control

The tires slide on the road and I’m at a dangerous speed, zigzagging wildly across to the other side of oncoming traffic. My heart thumps madly as I use all my might to steer the wheel around, landing in a soggy ditch opposite the woods. I sit breathing heavily turning the car around back onto the right side and continue.

I leave my ID, wallet and bag on the seat. Locking the door I climb over a locked gate and head deep into the woods. The long grass climbs up my legs as the rain falls harder. I walk further on over stumps and thickets.

I am waiting, thinking. It will take them a few days to find me being right at the back of the deep darkening thicket.

Standing, I think of all my reasons

No future, career gone, broken marriage. Time to go. Ciao! Bye! I don’t move. My thoughts become scrambled, invading my concentration. I’m becoming frustrated with the preposterous inability to fulfill a simple task.

The will to live is stronger, impeding my efforts to end it.

This time I think for 20 minutes.

I don’t follow through with the attempt

At first, my incapability reminds me of all the stupid things I have done making me really pissed off. I move to try agian. God almighty! Is the urge to live so potent I can’t die? Or is it nature getting back at me for treading in her fine forest and committing a sin.

I start to cry, then go blank. After a while, I climb down. The trek back to the car seems far greater. I go home. I have survived.

This story in no way endorses self-harm. If you are in mental anguish please seek help.

Mimi Bordeaux

USA 1-800-273-8255
USA Crisis Text 741-741
US Crisis line for LGBTQ Youth 1-866-488-7386
US Crisis Text for LGBTQ Youth 678-678
Canada 1-833-456-4566
United Kingdom 116 123
Australia 13 11 14
International suicide hotlines

Published by

Anne Moss Rogers

I am an emotionally naked TEDx speaker, and author of the Book, Diary of a Broken Mind. I raised two boys, Richard and Charles, and lost my youngest son, Charles to substance use disorder and suicide June 5, 2015. I help people foster a culture of connection to prevent suicide, reduce substance misuse and find life after loss. My motivational, training and workshop topics include suicide prevention, addiction, mental illness, and grief. As talented and funny as Charles was, letting other people know they matter was his greatest gift. And now the legacy I try and carry forward in my son's memory. Professional Speaker Website. Trained in ASIST and trainer for the evidence-based 4-hour training for everyone called safeTALK.

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