A Suicide Solution
July 7 of 2019 will go down in history as yet another close call with death at the hands of the paranormal. When the doctors can’t explain it, you have no choice but to think beyond modern medicine and science.
Norman was determined to get me out of the picture one way or another. Between the death threats and near misses, I thought I had seen it all. He tried to kill me in 2016. He tried to burn us all alive in 2018. He made countless verbal threats over the years with multiple attempts to force me to leave.
Norman had succeeded where he had failed so many times over the years. I just don’t know how else to explain it. I had no part in it. It all just happened and so fast. It was just as much of a shock to me as it was to everybody else. The doll got rid of me.
When I woke up that morning, I did not expect to end up sleeping somewhere else. Nor did I expect to see an outpouring of monsters that I’ve researched over the years.
I arose early that day like I did any other. I woke up around four thirty, took all of our dogs outside, then slowly started my day. That Sunday morning, Christina and Hannah left for the beach. It was about seven in the morning when they headed out for their hour-long drive to a day in the sun.
I, on the other hand, opted to stay home. I am not much of a beach guy. I decided I was going to take the day and work on the backlog of cases that had been stacking up since the whole Norman debacle.
I was still juggling my normal paranormal case load on top of the home field research with our haunted doll. Norman would remain in his case sitting on top of my desk as I worked.
Most of that early morning is as clear as day to me as I recall it. While thirty minutes of it has been lost to the abyss of time. The last thing I remember doing that morning was opening up one of my case file drawers to pull out a folder on an old hotel I had investigated. The next thing I remember was my neighbor Big Steve screaming in my face. If you are confused, just know, so was I. I still am.
Big Steve had found me asleep on my bed after he rushed into the house. But why he rushed into my house was the big question. During the thirty minutes in which I had blacked out, a message on my behalf had been spread across all of social media.
Now this was no ordinary message. This was a suicide note. Apparently, I had, without knowing, typed a short suicide note on my social media profile. At least that is what everybody thought. The note was posted online at just before ten in the morning.
“It wasn’t murder. I killed myself. I wanted to do it in the cornfield but instead I am in bed with my dogs. I wish I could have kissed you one more time Christina. I love you all.” 3
My family and friends were all in a panic to get to me. Upon seeing the message, my wife and stepdaughter immediately left the beach to come home to me. My wife knew something wasn’t right, and this was completely out of character for me.
Christina had called Big Steve from the beach. She asked him to go check on me after she saw the message pop up online.
Big Steve was also concerned because, apparently, he had received an email from me requesting a gun near the same time as my social media post. I had done none of this, but somehow it had all been done.
When Big Steve woke me up, I was beyond startled, surprised, and dumbfounded. I had no clue as to what was happening other than what was happening right in front of me. Steve was yelling, “Are you okay? Are you okay?” very frantically.
I assured him I was, and he said that everybody was really worried about me. I asked him why, and he told me what had happened within the past thirty minutes. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
This is something that, in any state of mind, I would never do. It just isn’t me. It isn’t in my character nor my personality. I don’t believe in suicide. I had never been suicidal before in my life, let alone acted on it.
I tried to convince my neighbor that everything was alright and that this was just one big misunderstanding. He wasn’t buying it, nor was he going to take the chance. But something else wasn’t right.
I felt extremely dizzy and lightheaded. I could feel my heart pounding through my head. It was like a tribal drum machine marching to a requiem. An overwhelming sickness came over me. It was reminiscent of a few years ago when I was taken down by what could only be described as a heart attack. That, too, was at the hands of Norman. Something wasn’t right with my health.
Big Steve called Christina to assure her he found me alive. He found me spirited but not well. I was spirited alright. Christina arrived at the house, but not before calling an ambulance.
Before Steve dragged me out of the house, I glanced up at Norman in his case. I knew he was the immoral engineer behind all of this. With my eyesight the way it was at that time, I had to have seen a hundred of him. It was like I was looking through the eyes of a fly.
I threw my arm over Big Steve’s shoulder, and he walked me out of the house to where Christina was waiting with the truck. I couldn’t walk so he was dragging my feet. The pain was severe, and the whole world was spinning through my eyes.
Big Steve helped me climb into the truck. Christina was not going to wait for the ambulance to arrive. She was going to arrive at the ambulance. We flew down the highway toward the hospital, which was thirty minutes away.
I was coming in and out of consciousness the entire drive. I felt like I was out of my body looking back at myself. It was the most surreal, unnatural feeling.
Christina called the police, and they caught up to escort us to the coming ambulance. About fifteen minutes later, Christina met the ambulance at a local business in town. None of this I remember. I was educated on everything that happened after the fact.
I was transferred from the truck into the ambulance, and the paramedics took me the rest of the way to the hospital. My vital signs were off the charts. My blood pressure was logged at 280 over 138. This had death written all over it. I was beyond stroke level and very close to taking my last breath on this earth.
At the hospital, I regained consciousness as they ran intravenous fluids and drew blood for immediate lab work. With my wife being a former nurse, I have learned a lot over the years when it comes to the medical field. What was happening wasn’t good by any definition.
They were prepping me for a stroke.
Up until this point, I had never been a candidate for such a thing. I had always been of the utmost good health. In recent years, that utmost health had a few hiccups in its record thanks to the paranormal field.
The medical staff were doing everything in their power to level me out and prevent me from dying. They were also taking the necessary precautions and conducting the necessary tests for an attempted suicide. The staff were misled. Misled like everybody else by something I never even attempted to do.
I stared off in a daze as nurse after nurse poked and prodded. It was all like an extremely bad and realistic nightmare. Everything happening around me appeared to be in slow motion.
All of the murmuring voices from the staff and family and friends made them seem like they were coming from miles away. That whole day is one big blur. Between the foggy bright white lights, the lab coats, the needles, and confused state, I felt like I had been beamed aboard an extraterrestrial mother ship for some sort of species testing.
Imagine your eyes constantly blurred. Those of you who wear glasses, I am sure can relate. Imagine your eyes full of water constantly. Not physically but visually. Imagine all of this going on around you, and you can’t make any clear sense of any of it. Everything is indistinct.
It was a nightmare I could not wake up from.
With every passing nurse, I desperately attempted to convince them that this was a big mistake and I was not suicidal. None of them would listen.
It seemed at the sight of that social media post and the email to my neighbor concerning a gun, all points of authority just shut down to my pleading. They had regulations to adhere to and laws to follow. A written suicide threat was grounds for being committed until doctors could clear you. They must feel you are not only in a frame of mind to be safe alone but also safe to others.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing as the nurses and doctor spoke. It was like I wasn’t even there. I didn’t exist as a person. Instead, I was only a procedure and an act of protocol. The very person they thought they were going to help was the very person they refused to listen to.
I became angry and lashed out at the nurses for ignoring my testimony. They just didn’t want to hear it. They refused to. I repeatedly told them I did not want to kill myself. I gave every reason in the book not to. I told them I was a successful writer, had a wonderful family and lots in store for the future. I told them my life was perfect.
It didn’t matter. All of that fell on deaf ears. I lost all human rights the moment that social media post was made. Once they researched me and my career, things went even further in the wrong direction. As accepting as our society has become with paranormal entertainment and research, their judging was a step backward in time. I felt like I had become a victim of a modern-day witch hunt. By their logic, every one of you reading this belonged there with me. Any interest in the paranormal was a red flag for them. That kind of talk was crazy.
They sedated me as they struggled to get control of my blood pressure. My anger was not helping in that department. They were going to commit me for the suicide threat in addition to monitoring my uncontrollable blood pressure. They made attempt after attempt to level my blood pressure out, yet nothing was working.
My drug screening had returned, and I was clear. I knew I would be, but they didn’t. They could not blame drug use for my believed behavior, which confused them further. They committed me. I was put on lockdown and isolated from society.
That evening they relocated me to a room at the top of the hospital. A nurse was to be stationed at my door every hour of every day. My vitals were to be monitored every hour of every day.
I had become a prisoner on the brink of dying. I had never felt so helpless in my life. All I could think about was Christina back home, and that doll just sitting there scheming further. He had won for now.
Sunday, July 7, would be the last time I would see the sun and feel its warmth until being released over a week later. I was isolated in a very small room that had only a mattress and a toilet in it, but not before being stripped naked and forced to wear paper-like clothing.
Mental illness is a serious condition. There are people out there who truly need help, and there I was involuntarily monopolizing a spot that could have gone to a person needing it. And the place definitely wasn’t for me. That certainly doesn’t mean it isn’t the appropriate place for healthcare, but I think I was suffering from a bit of claustrophobia.
The one and only window was barred. There were no paintings, television, or electronics of any kind. It was a dingy white prison cell that screamed “institutional.” I was on the same floor with violent convicts, people with severe mental disorders, and desperate, drug-addicted individuals. It was the scariest, most desolate place I had ever seen or been. I lived in fear the entire time.
You could walk in there with nothing wrong with you and walk out a very changed and disturbed person. The place actually caused post-traumatic stress disorder as they stuck my arm with needle after needle, administering medication in an attempt to convince me that the problem was me. The scariest part was knowing I didn’t really need to be there, and having no control of the situation perpetuated that fear. This was a point I brought up every day upon seeing the doctor.
I repeatedly told him that I was fine and this was a case of mistaken belief. I told him the only thing depressing, scary, and traumatic was that very place. I was an unwilling lab rat. I was being treated for something I did not have, and with that came horrific repercussions. I embarked further down the rabbit hole and met all of my demons at once.
3. The note has since been removed and is no longer publicly available.