Suicide. There have been some very public suicides this month. Barely into the second week of June and already three public suicides, let alone the thousands of others with no sound or voice. Just private pain with no where to escape but out. Its terrible.
We see these suicides and those of us that have considered this an option, its hard. Its becomes real. It becomes viable. You see the outpouring of messages to their loved ones and you think, “they’ll have support.” “they will be ok.”. You wonder who will notice you’re gone. You watch as people speak about the troubled person they were or how expected/unexpected it was and how painful life may have been. You see them speak about how everything was normal and great, and these were the happiest days of their lives; often times this is the case. The similarities are very typical. The addiction, the moral conviction, the empathy, the very distinct and unwavering sense of right and wrong, the savior complex that tells us we are doing everyone a favor, the need to help others. Its all there. You realize that hiding things is too easy for some of us and we are so very alike. No one knows what you don’t tell them. People can’t read each other the way you think you can. You make peace with your finality. You see your exit and you look forward for once. You aren’t looking back at the destruction you’ve left behind or the pain you’re about to cause. You look forward at the relief. You walk with blinders. You aren’t ignorant to what you’re about to do or the repercussions of it all, but somehow inside you find a way to justify all of that by telling yourself you’ve been no good, you’ve held everyone back, they reach their potential and thrive if you just got the fuck out of the way. Of course, that isn’t for you to decide but in your own desperation for relief, for the pain to stop, for the aching to subside, you convince yourself that this is for the best.
You have your plan, and you’ve made up your mind. You know exactly how and where and with what. You know if its going to hurt, if its going to be fast, and you feel at ease. Maybe this is the first time you will be completing something in your life. Maybe this is the first time you follow through on something and see it to the end, and that makes you feel a weird sense of accomplishment because you aren’t a finisher, and everyone doubts you but this time you’ll finish what you started.
You drop hints. You leave them everywhere. You hope someone notices them or sees through the smiles or sees you’re laughing harder than anyone else, speaking faster, breathing harder, or sometimes just trying hard to blend in. You say happy words and you hope you’ve sprinkled enough emptiness for them to reach out and grab you. You can’t be saved. You won’t allow it. You won’t let go because you’ve got a plan. Everyone else is doing it so you think maybe they figured it out. I think maybe they’ve found a way to stop feeling everything. Feeling way too much. A superpower…
Then I see my kids faces. I see my wife telling them what I’ve done. I see myself and where I am and how they find me. I hear the screams and I see my past following them around for the rest of their lives. And I stop. I can take it for them -the agony. Sometimes I just needed to be reminded that my reason for staying isn’t about how much pain I can handle, but about how much pain I’m willing to cause and create. I can’t do it to them. And as I’m breathing in and out, it washes over me that the pain is as temporary as the happiness. Happiness is appreciated.