The family member of a close
friend killed himself last week. His
funeral is today.
It’s been a long time since I
wrote about suicide. Most of my bi-polar
and depressive friends have been doing just fine on their meds or using the
strategies they’ve learned in therapy so that they can quickly arrest a descent
into the ominous dark spiral. I’m
grateful for that. I love all of them and
would be devastated if any one of them chose to take the shortcut-of-no-return,
as J did.
This was a young man who had been
troubled for a long, long time, though he was not without love and support and
encouragement from patient, sincere, understanding family members. But… in spite of their best efforts, he began
to feel helpless in the face of the events which comprised his life… and one
night when that feeling overwhelmed him, he opted for permanent relief from the
pain….
And so my friends, this is just
the gentlest of reminders:
We can never control the
circumstances of our lives. We can only
control our response to those circumstances.
This is true for all of us, whether we’re happy and well-adjusted or
have been bashed around by the harsh, capricious nature of life in this world.
As I wrote in The Dogs WhoSaved Me, forty+ years ago I was a clinically depressed teen who had lost all
reason to live. Well… save one: Rufus,
the dog who taught me what loyalty and unconditional love are all about kept me
from leaving before it was really time to go.
Back then, if someone had told me, “Just hang on, K; in a few short
years you’re going to have four incredible kids and even more grandkids and
you’ll go to college and earn a master’s degree in literature and become a
published author,” I would have told them they were nuts. And yet here I am with a thousand blessings
to be thankful for every single day.
We cannot know, day by day, which
way the path of life will turn or what obstacles will appear before us. But from this side of life I can see that
there is balance in all things. For
every rotten tomato life throws at us, a golden apple will fall from a tree
nearby and roll onto the path at our feet.
We just have to keep our eyes open, keep looking for the beauty (because
believe me, it’s there, even when the dark clouds above us shut out the light
for a bit and we can’t quite see it) and above all, keep making forward
progress—even if it is measured in inches—so we don’t miss the good stuff. And trust me, there’s a whole lot of good
stuff along the way. Sometimes we just have
to hunker down in the bottom of the boat and wait until the storm passes. (Hug yourself and rock if it helps. Don’t laugh; Dr. Temple Grandin would agree with me. I did this in a figurative sense when I would
sit on my bedroom floor and listen to music for hours. Better yet, hug a fur person.) Just… don’t give up and jump overboard. Your feelings are real, and I would never
discount them. I’ve had them
myself. I know how much it hurts. But when the pain seems unbearable, gather
around you those things that you love and hang on; clear skies and a gorgeous
sunrise are just a few moments away….
so well written...so sad that sometimes the darkness wins and one cannot see any light at all.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Kathy and yes... it's just sad. In J's case, if he'd been able to hang on a few more days or weeks, I know he would have emerged from the darkness. Now the family--including his young son who doesn't understand where his daddy has gone--is grieving.
ReplyDelete