This burning question. The mystery of it, wondering at what thoughts passed through their minds in the minutes-to-seconds just prior to doing it. It makes me feel hollow without hunger. It makes me nauseous. It pisses me the fuck off.
It’s suicide, and it’s killing me.
I’m writing about this now because not even two months into the New Year and my community of friends has suffered the loss of two great souls this year, who decided it was their time to leave. I’d have to use my toes in addition to my fingers and still run out of digits if I were to count how many people I’ve known in my lifetime that have offed themselves. Some incredibly close, beloved friends and family, some acquaintances, some just buddies that I’ve partied with, some of my dearest friend’s mothers or fathers, some of our family friend’s children.
All of the obvious questions spring to mind – was it really that bad? What can be THAT bad that you’d end your own life and subject those left in your wake to such a punishing, dismal journey of understanding, enduring the sleepless nights wondering what they could have done differently, leaving indelible marks on those who loved them?
There is a very short list of worst-nightmare-extreme things that could happen with potential to destroy me to such a degree and give me pause to even consider this, but that’s me – and the reasons left in notes, or left shrouded in mystery by those who leave nothing and give no warning – while you can never really know what any one person goes through in a day’s time, nothing on my list were possible factors for the ones I know who have left voluntarily. But, everyone has their own BOBWOW. (Best of best, worst of worst.)
I do not understand it. I cannot comprehend it. I wonder at it in quiet fascination even though it makes me hollow and angry. Those last thoughts. I’ve watched What Dreams May Come a thousand times and am left chewing on the concepts the film depicts, hoping some to be possible, praying that others are not.
Some say it takes tremendous bravery to take oneself out and I imagine in those few amniotic seconds prior to the actual act, it might. But if they’d only applied the same bravery to life… now, that would be courage. I cringe when I say this, only because of one particular near and dear who took his own life, what I went through with him in the days prior, having intimate knowledge of just where he was in his head, feeling responsible for not saving him and aching still for him over it all, yet – I remain (with all due respect) thinking it to be the ultimate weakness, the worst kind of cowardice. Rise the fuck up. Face it. Fix it. A lesson that has taken me thirty-six years to actually grasp and understand is – this too, shall pass. Everything does.
After attending the funerals and hugging the mothers left by their children, the sons left by their fathers and having to turn pictures of me and the above mentioned voluntarily-departed face down out of sheer blinding anger, I feel I’ve more than earned the right to pipe up about this. Disagree with me, its okay. None of this comes without the deepest root of empathy, sympathy and the keen awareness and knowledge of being one of those… left in the wake.
To those of mine who have left this way – I love you still and my grief and missing you nulls my anger and forces me to forgive you. To those that threaten it, hold their family and friends hostage over the possibility of it, I say – first, come here and let me whip your narcissistic, selfish ass. Then, go crawl under a rock and find you some God, get you some Jesus. Wait it out, you chicken shit. To those who might privately consider it? Make your list. What’s the WORST that could happen?
You live through it. You survive. You win, you triumph and at the natural end of your days? You realize that it was all worth living.
Suicide is bullshit.
