TheBanyanTree: Understanding Suicide

[Jena Norton]

I've been to the edge of the dark abyss and was fortunately pulled back in time. I think the pain blots out reason and rational thought. The dark abyss is the feeling that we are nothing and it doesn't matter to the world whether we live or die. This lack of feelings of personal worth are what kills the soul and eventually the body.

We are so fortunate here to have understanding, compassionate, caring people who are not afraid to share their raw feelings, to appear emotionally naked and vulnerable and to be there to support, cajole, swear at, or cry with those who reach out. 

Reading anything you write is a humbling experience. And I still think you're funny as hell! But then I'm pretty warped too <G>
 
Jena Norton


>________________________________
> From: Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>
>To: Banyan Tree <thebanyantree at lists.remsset.com> 
>Sent: Wednesday, May 7, 2014 3:59 PM
>Subject: TheBanyanTree: Understanding Suicide
> 
>
>The other day I said to Mr C, “Remember when I used to be funny?”
>
>“You’re still funny sometimes,” he replied, being the proper husband that
>he is, always supportive.
>
>I miss me being funny. I miss me being on top of my game. So far this year
>I haven’t been particularly funny, except for the odd moment now and then,
>and I haven’t been on top of my game. I’ve been underneath it, crawling
>around in the sub-basement. I can barely see the stairs from here
>sometimes. It’s frustrating because they’re right there, over on the right,
>around the corner, and there’s light at the top of the stairs. But I can’t
>get my fat ass over to the bottom of the stairs to start the climb up.
>
>And I think I can climb up. I think if I can reach the bottom, I can pull
>myself up the stairs.
>
>But damn. This year.
>
>I’m not suicidal. For one thing, I don’t have a plan. For another thing, it
>seems like a lot of work. For another thing, I couldn’t do that to Mr C and
>Ash, because they didn’t ask for this, and they are here for me, every day,
>even when I’m not.
>
>But I understand it. I understand the pain that allows someone to think
>there is no other option, and I understand the depths of the isolation,
>isolation that may not be real. It is in our minds, but in our minds can be
>a terrible place to be when it’s not functioning properly.
>
>When I read of a suicide I also, inevitably, read a comment (I do try not
>to go there, because if there’s one thing that can make me lose hope in
>humanity, the comments section can do it) that says how selfish suicide is,
>how stupidly selfish.
>
>And I am happy that the person who wrote that doesn’t know the pain that
>comes with that sort of mind numbing depression, and I am angry that they
>are so callous. It is a deep deep pain that brings about suicide, and
>solving it isn’t like a jigsaw puzzle where you can just put the pieces
>together and have a whole because some of the pieces are missing, and no
>matter where you look, you can’t find them.
>
>Anyway, what’s wrong with being selfish? I’ve been told that I’m selfish
>because I don’t have children, which is just silly because me with children
>would be totally selfish. Who would do that to a child? I like children too
>much for that.
>
>That may be beside the point, but you see that little kernel of truth lying
>in there?
>
>Look, I would love to stop talking about myself. I would love to have my
>moments of happiness, my moments of work, my moments of connection, my
>moments of making a difference. I know all the words, I know how I’m
>supposed to feel, and I know the problem is with me. I would love to talk
>about you, and not have a thought for me and my depression and my panic.
>That bad feeling in my chest, the sort-of achy, sort of ice in my veins
>feeling that ties me up in knots so I can’t think properly are seriously
>things I can do without. They do not add to my quality of life and they do
>not get me invited to parties.
>
>“It’s a choice,” some people say, as if we hadn’t thought of that, as if
>this is somehow intentional, and if only we were better at not being so
>selfish we would do that. Oh, yes, we hadn’t thought of that. We have
>techniques to keep the darkness away, but sometimes it slips past our
>defenses and settles in, like a cat finding a sunny spot to sleep in, but
>it’s not as easy to dislodge as a sleeping cat. A cat I could nudge, and it
>would stretch, and maybe move. (I don’t have cats so I don’t know exactly
>what it would do. I imagine it depends on the cat.) I keep nudging the
>darkness and telling it to go away, that I don’t have time for this. I’m so
>not in the mood for the darkness. Sometimes I push at it really hard, and
>it acts as if it’s going away, but it doesn’t go far enough away.
>
>I want to be funny again. I want to be smart again. Or at least reasonably
>intelligent. Look, I don’t need to be a genius. I have a great life, and
>I’m really pissed that I’m not enjoying it a lot more. My husband deserves
>better than this. (This is the slippery slope that can lead one to consider
>suicide as an option by the way – we might think we’re doing our loved ones
>a favor. We’re wrong, of course, but we don’t know that when we’re thinking
>it.)
>
>I’m sick of talking about myself and my damn feelings. Please talk about
>you. Tell me what you’re doing, how the kids are, what the family’s up to,
>how work’s going. Tell me all your stories, fill up that empty space with
>your words, help me regain my connection to a world that I feel I’ve lost
>touch with. Help me back from the abyss.
>
>And I swear I’ll make you laugh again.
>
>M
>
>