My eyes opened, I had been sleeping soundly… induced by a little football shaped pill.
My intuition. Jolted me awake. WIDE AWAKE.
If I’m being honest, I took 1.5 sleeping pills that night. I was trying to quiet my brain from the last 48 hours of stress.
My FIGHT FLIGHT FREEZE in overdrive.
I looked over to the other side of the king size bed.
Empty, just as it had been the 2 nights before. Yet, he had come home just hours earlier. We had just went to sleep a few hours ago. The indent of him was there. The covers pulled back… but he wasn’t. Absent, from where he had been sleeping next to me just before, the sleeping pill took effect.
PANIC was my immediate reaction – as I scanned the room. The last 48 hours came flooding into my head, where is he?
My Ears, zoned in as I heard running water.
My eyes darted to the open master bathroom door. The door was wide open and darkness, just as the bedroom was. Odd the bedroom door was closed too.
I quickly got up and made my way to the other bathroom in the front of the house. I grabbed the handle. Locked. ::SIGH::
TAP TAP TAP —— my rolled up fist on the door.
“Whats up?”
Me: “Whatcha doin?”
“Taking a bath”
My eyes rolled in the back of my head, and my inner dialogue said, “Motherfucker, you don’t take baths.”
Me: How come?
“trying to relax”
I can still hear the water running…. I quickly ran to the kitchen and yanked the drawers open where we kept the knives. I had only brought a couple of them with me. I went to his new place and scanned the area. Then, I took inventory. Then, I ran back to the door.
I looked down beside me, and noticed the tool bag, we had out earlier as we were packing his vehicle. I bent down and dug through it looking for a tiny screwdriver.
SUCCESS!!
I grab it, and pushed it into the pinhole of the door. I jiggled it around but no dice.
I stepped back away from the door. I looked at the hinges. I wondered if my body weight could make it through the door. As I was scanning the door, I noticed the door knob.
SCREWS? Are the SCREWS ON MY SIDE?? My eyes grew wide and I quickly grabbed the screwdriver again. I began on the right screw…..twisting as quietly as possible. The knob became loose.
As I pulled the screw out…. a shout came from the other side of the door.
“HEY! What are you doing out there!! Leave me alone! I am just trying to relax”
Me: NOTHING. I worked on the left screw and held down the door knob. This stopped it from jiggling.
“STOP IT ! STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!!” came another shout from the other side of the door.
Me: I will stop if you open this door and show me whats going on in there.
SILENCE….. Then the water shut off…..(i was still twisting quietly at the screw, as the door knob started to come off.
THEN A CLICK…. Then the door opened…. I stood straight up from my hunched over positron of the door knob.
I looked up. I looked at him. I saw the scene behind him. I took inventory ONE, TWO, THREE knives…. on the sink. I inhaled from my nose, fluttered my eyes…. Bathtub filled with bloody water, pile of water soaked clothes, red water… all over the floor. Bloody footprints, shower curtain stained red. Sink and cabinet red…..
Him dripping with water…. dripping in blood.
I exhaled.
“WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DO THIS???” his hands thrown down as if he was a 3 year old with a tantrum.
I stared at him, he cut his neck…. there’s a hole. But no blood is coming out. I stepped ahead, reached into a cabinet…. grabbed a towel.
Me: Because I love you and this isn’t the answer.
I reached up and tapped the hole in his neck to catch a drop of blood. Then I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him.
Me: I love you.. So many people love you, don’t let those women…. be the end of you.
We stood there and exchanged some more words. as we embraced. and then I pulled away and looked at him up and down. He was Grey. I looked into the bathroom…. so much blood.
You would think after 11.5 years in the crime scene clean up industry, I would be use to these scenes. This was so different than all the other scenes. All the other jobs. This one, wrecked me to the core.
Calm, stay calm….
“I CANT GO BACK THERE!, Don’t call 911”
Me: I wont, but lets go sit down…..
I calmly said as i led him across the house…. to the bedroom. I picked up my phone and placed it in my pajama pants. I kept my hands visible. I put him in the bed… back against the backboard. and climbed on top of him, hoovering …. and with my hands visible…. like Houdini.
I had tossed my phone close enough, by if i needed to call 911.
WEIRD…. STILL NO BLEEDING…. but okay. this is good, he’s talking, he’s alert, and there’s no gushing blood.
We talked awhile, I convinced him, we needed help. He needed help. REAL HELP and he begged me not to take him back to the place we had departed hours earlier.
Me: Theres a hole in your neck.
“I know”
Me: How are we going to get that fixed if we dont go to the hospital.
“my dad could sew it up” he said… “but i might need surgery”
Me: so we need a hospital….. which one.
“None of them here, I don’t trust the surgeons”
Me: (my eyes narrowing into slits) you just tried to unalike yourself… and you don’t trust the surgeons.
“yeah they might fuck me up”
Me: Okay……. (I thought for a moment and took inventory of him again; color is kind of coming back… still not bleeding). What if we go to XYZ City to their big hospital… it’s like, what, 2.5 hours away?
I suggested this because I knew I could stop at any urgent care or hospital along the way… if needed.
“OKay”
Me: We need to call your parents.
This is now the second time I have had to call his parents. I needed to inform them that their son had once again attempted to take end his life. It’s an awful feeling having to deliver that news. But then again…. it could have been worse. I could have had been calling in the morning, saying I woke up to him in the tub.
My brain, still replays that night over and over again. It sometimes creates the sceniro of the “WHAT IF I HADN’T WOKEN UP WHEN I DID” …. The nightmares are some of the most wicked ones I have ever had. I believe its because it was real life.
I still recount the 11.5 years in the business, and never had any gave me nightmares. This haunts me. I think it will until the day I die. The what if didn’t happen. But my brain still sees the bathroom…. and an imagine of him laying in the blood filled tub.
I still can’t believe he was going to let me find him like that.
I went into the bathroom and began digging through his things. I found gauze and tape…. we stood in the bathroom cover up the wound…. and prepare to go to the hospital 2.5 hours away.
We had sat and talked about what was going to be said to the ER people.
He stated he was going to tell them, he fell on a knife while cooking….
I pursed my lips and looked at him, tilted my head.
Me: Sooooooo you did an ER rotation in Med School right?
“YEAH”
Me: If someone came in with this (i gestured to the wound) and told you that….would you believe them?
“Probably not….. No. I wouldn’t”
Me: OKAAAY just making sure we are on the same page.
We then got “dressed” and into street clothes, me out of my PJs and him out of his wet underwear. and we got into the car and headed to a hospital 2.5 hours away.
A lot of the ride was quiet. I let him rest… I can barely think of what we talked about. I probably should not have been driving because I had taken the Ambien just hours earlier. Yet, I was wide awake. Adrenaline was going through my entire body. Still, I remained calm.
The days were a blur from there.
I had to lie to him for the very first time since we knew each other. I lied about who told the hospital about his earlier Baker Act hours before. It killed me inside because I had never lied to him before. But I had to. He needed help.
We couldn’t let him get out again. If there was a next time, I wouldn’t be around to prevent it. I was scared.
Its been 7 months… and I am still scared he is going to try again. I will always worry about him and his mental health. You just don’t unloved someone. You don’t stop caring.
Its a life.
I returned back to his home, took care of his dogs. Then faced the bathroom. 11.5 years…. I got this…. I stepped in and started. Then Stopped…. I backed out of the bathroom and bawled my eyes out. I put myself back together and then tried again.
I couldn’t.
So i picked up my phone and called an old employee…. and she drove 6 hours to come help me. I paid her $500 out of my own pocket. and thanked her for always being available to me.
I took the dogs the next day to the dog sitter. I returned to his town. I collected his things we had originally packed. Then, I took them to meet his parents and sibling. Things he would need once he was released….. things he would need when they found a treatment facility.
I packed all the things. and booked a hotel room…. and again got on the interstate.
To show up. To show I cared. To show that someone had his back and wasn’t going to leave him, no matter where, no matter what. LOVE. I just wanted to show him LOVE. Love without any strings. Love that shows up in the messy parts, not just the great parts. I wanted to show him the kind of love that I wished for myself.
The rest of the month, while he was in treatment, I began getting his home situated. I hired and paid for movers. I watched the movers back and place everything in storage.
I hired the move out cleaner…. so once all of the personal belongings were gone and packed up. and placed into a storage I would turn over the house on his behalf.
I hired a friend to come with a van. He assisted me in getting everything that didn’t fit or couldn’t go into storage. He also helped to transport his vehicle.
It’s all a blur.
So much has happened since now and then. But this is just the story of that night… that last attempt.
The night my brain was changed forever. I shoved it down. I stuffed every feeling down from that night. I had to pretend it didn’t happen. I couldn’t tell anyone, except the dog sitter… she needed to know why… we needed her in the moment.
I kept it stuffed down, until I no longer could. It was eating me. It still eats at me. I am see the world so differently now. My heart aches. My mind is numb. I have to switch off my feelings to not lash out. I must avoid saying anything that is too unhinged. Is this trauma? Is this what it feels like when its outside of you?
Did I really witness that? Was that real life?
I’ve carried the weight of that night in silence for too long.
I still question what I saw.
I still feel it — in my body, in my breath, in the way I flinch at certain words.
Maybe that’s trauma.
Maybe it’s survival.
If you’ve lived through something like this — if you’ve ever had to hold space for someone else’s breaking point — I see you.
You don’t have to carry it alone.
I created something for moments like this — not the before, not the what-if — but the after.
➡️ After the Darkest Hour: Finding Light Beyond the Edge is a free guide for survivors of suicide attempts, and for the people who love them.
If you’re struggling to make sense of what just happened…
If you’re trying to figure out what healing looks like after survival…
This guide is for you.
Please reach for support.
You’re not broken. You’re not alone. You’re still here — and that matters.
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