Thoughts on Suicide

Thoughts on Suicide

Though many people have said it before, life is a journey.  But sometimes during that travel the comfort goes away.  Things that normally would hold you close and keep you centered, like your dwelling, the food you eat, the people you live with or see every day, just cannot hold you.  Though the body is a powerful part of our makeup and usually takes us where we want to go, the mind is so much stronger. And the mind holds thoughts.

When a person is depressed, sad, fearful, no longer in love with life, the mind takes over and spills that message constantly.  NOTHING can block it out.  Pain is in the breathing.  The pain is so intense that the mind cannot find or center on anything else.   Unconsciousness is the only cure — and then one begins to think of death as comfort and peace.

Hopefully a counselor will come into the picture early and possibly medication will be used to help the depression.  But taking one’s life, though not an easy thing to do, not something done in an instant, can provide the only relief to the pain and suffering of depression, alienation, and just the desire to be done with it—gone, struggle over, no matter what that struggle was.

It’s a kind of twisted journey. Maybe it’s like traveling to a different town or state. The ground isn’t solid under your feet like it is at home.  Though the sun is warm, confusion sets in, you are lost and uncertain of the placement of things.

The desire for suicide breaks open the plates of the earth—it creates cracks and crevices that you didn’t know were there.  You don’t fear death as much because you have looked at it at its most surprising and worst shape, its most calamitous and devastating possibility — you have seen it all.  So what is there to fear?

A friend, whose husband committed suicide, says that maybe he is blowing around with the wind.  Like Joan Didion in THE YEAR OF MAGICAL THINKING, she tries to find an answer—but she doesn’t know.  She hated New Year’s because it was the first year he would not be alive with her.  She didn’t want to travel because she wanted to sit and remember, a year ago we did this, a year ago we did that.

Words of her friends come into her brain like a mild sedative, taking her back to the joyous days when he was alive and on the same earth and present in her life.  And she holds on to this.  It’s another journey that the parents of children who take their lives will have to walk.  It’s pain and more pain. It’s in our thoughts in in our heads. Hope? Sometimes time will gentle it–the only hope.

Thanks to Google Images