TheBanyanTree: Understanding Suicide

[Kitty Park]

Even down there where its so dark for you, you have written a great piece
explaining how depression affects you.

Damn.  I'm so so sorry you're there and thankful I'm not.  You haven't told
us how we can help, so I am assuming this is something you -- your brain --
must do yourself.  You know we'll help if you'll tell us how.  Until then,
we'll sit nearby so you're not alone.  You, Ash, Mr. Colver and all your
friends.

Kitty
<mzzkitty at gmail.com>kcp-parkplace.blogspot.com
 <http://parkplaceohio.com>



On Wed, May 7, 2014 at 6:59 PM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>wrote:

> 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
>