While living in Houston, I never really reached out to anyone else for help. I’ve always taken pride in what little independence I have, and asking for help doesn’t come easy for me.
But moving to a new city and state has required me to swallow my pride, reaching out and asking for help from, well, a number of people here in New Mexico. And almost every time, I’ve had my reaching hand slapped away — which makes it even harder to ask for help the next time.
I understand that everyone has their own problems and is busy with their own lives. People who aren’t disabled live in a world that I don’t belong to. But the apathy is really thick in this city, from all the trash and litter (much of it empty liquor bottles), to the proliferation of graffiti and gang tags that no one seems to care about.
Unfortunately, it appears that this atmosphere is contagious…
As I sit here without anything or anyone to help me manage the pain, depression, anger, and now apathy, I am unable to think of anyone I can reach out to for help. I confess that I am unable to stop the thoughts of suicide that keep running through my mind.
I also confess that one of the reasons I chose this state’s Medical Cannabis Program is because New Mexico is one of the few right-to-die states. I want the right to die, even without a doctor’s opinion of how long I have to live. After almost 30 years of constant pain, I think I deserve the right to decide when I’ve had enough.
I want to be free.