In ten words or less, David had eaten 64 Valiums and survived. This was the third suicide. I forgot to write about the first one where he tried to freeze to death in the woods, and then it was the hunting knife, and then the Valiums. It feels terrible to want your pain to end SO MUCH, that you beg to be allowed to die – yet Hashem overrules you. No matter what type of murder weapon he chose, David just kept on regaining consciousness. Many people think that if the suicide “attempt” was unsuccessful, the perpetrator must not have been serious. They call us ‘Drama Queens’. There is no good response for such ignorance. Better to just nod your head without committing to an opinion. The Torah states that Hashem holds the key to three things. This teaching means that God has complete control over these three things and He does not explain his reasoning to us. He does whatever He wants. Hashem holds the key to rain. It rains when He wants, where He wants, how much He wants. It does not rain when He wants, where He wants, how little He wants. He holds the key to children. He decides who can have babies and who is infertile. He holds the key to death. He alone decides when, where, and how we each die – and he does not explain His reasons to us. Rain, children, and death: completely in Hashem’s control.
I knew that David would not be successful no matter how he tried to commit suicide, but his efforts were intensifying. I feared there would be a point at which God might change his mind, so to speak, and accept David’s prayer to die in Israel. I thought that if I protested, my vote would cancel out David’s vote. Therefore, I fought for him to survive. I read his email because I thought I could help him only if I knew what had upset him and because it might give a clue to where he had gone. I did not open any other emails beside the one that had set him off. I waited six hours. I identified myself clearly. I asked his friend to help him.
Of all the horrible stuff that happened that week, David only remembers that I hacked his email.
It’s not fair! I told this story to a friend and she said, “Poor Rivka. You did the best you could in terrible circumstances.”
Part of recovery after a relationship with a Narcissist, is becoming obsessed with justice. I am so beating a dead horse. Now that a whole year has passed, I don’t know anymore. Maybe I was wrong? Maybe I should not have cared? Perhaps I should have just gone about my business until David slinked back home, assuming he lived long enough? I don’t have many readers yet. My blog is 18 days old, but I put it to a poll of whoever randomly reads my blog. Was I wrong to read the email? What would a normal person have done after he stomped off?
And the important question: why were we still arguing about this ten months later? I gave an apology. Let it go already. No. Every event under the sun was somehow connected to this incident. I’d like to blame the PTSD. It’s always easier to blame the dysfunction than it is to admit that he just didn’t love me. We couldn’t make up because we weren’t friends. He couldn’t forgive me because he is cruel. He didn’t want to forgive me because it made him feel superior. I lost but I won. I did save his life and he feels very conflicted about that. We may not be together anymore, but he’s still alive, kicking and screaming and looking for more targets. Awesome. I have to remember, though, that I saved the ‘Israel David’, the best possible version of David. Israel David was worth it and I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. And they say that romance is dead…
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