Since suicide is my scientific speciality (or not, considering how many times I failed at it), it seems appropriate that I would make a post today about suicide prevention. I actually have no idea how to prevent it. When I was so far down for so long, no hope, no vision of a happier future got through. The best prevention I’d say is to lock us up til it passes, no matter how long that might be. Unfortunately that won’t happen in America today. I begged for that, put me in a state hospital, dope me up on Thorazine so I’m too numb to care, let my kids come in once a month to watch me drool. I was clearly feeling pretty bad to consider that an option I could live with. In fact I thought it was the only option that would keep me alive. If I hadn’t had kids I wouldn’t have cared but oh that tremendous guilt I felt when I knew I was going to leave them that way. But even then, the idea of staying in this life was unacceptable. Only my aversion to physical pain kept me alive (well, that and the fact that it’s incredibly hard to get enough pills to just fall into an endless sleep).
My brother committed suicide. I knew he was depressed but he wasn’t overt about it like I was. He had good friends, he had the ability to be a good friend and act outwardly okay. I put my craziness out there for the whole world to see and I couldn’t have done it any different. Warren shot himself. I’m way too cowardly to try that. I did slit my wrists once and damn, that hurt. So I tried pills (x4), I tried sitting in a running car with a dryer vent duct taped from the tailgate to the window (x2). Let me tell you, it’s really hard to die that way, or God was looking out for me. It also makes you very sick for days afterward. Dorothy Parker got it right: “Razors pain you; rivers are damp; acids stain you; and drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; nooses give; gas smells awful; you might as well live.”
There is an article on CNN today; “Embracing life after suicide attempt” and while her challenges were different than mine (she’s bipolar), our end result could have been the same. It’s not the same though, because she calls her article Embracing Life. I don’t really do that, I tolerate life. When my therapist says “You aren’t getting better.” I want to scream “But at least I’m not getting worse!” I’ve been there and this is okay. I mean, I think this is as good as it’s going to get and I can Live with that. In her article Melody says “The dangerous thing about silence is that it breeds shame and isolation.” Well, I’m an expert on shame, isolation and being totally unacceptable, so don’t rub it in.
When Warren died, I wanted to die too. I grieved so much for his pain. It was perfectly okay for me to feel that way most of my life, but I loved him, it was not okay at all. And that’s really the gist of it all. I loved him but I don’t love me.
I’m no Melody Moezzi (see above article), there is nothing redeeming in my post. I’m glad it’s not on CNN where all those jerks who are being snots to her might find me. Way to go with the compassion there folks, you are the crazy ones if you think we enjoy feeling this way. In the end, I suppose compassion and empathy are better suicide preventatives than all the pills in the world.
