I wrote about having an out. Some people plan and commit the act of suicide with an out. It's the last second that decides if they choose the act or the out. It's not that they don't want to die, but they subconsciously put life in the choice, just in case. No one doubts the finality of suicide, especially those thinking and planning the act, but some subconsciously leave the crack in the life door.
This isn't about those who attempt, and sometimes succeed, for attention or as a sudden reaction to a situation or circumstances. It's about those who are often invisible to others, who simply go about life while moving in the direction of suicide. It's all been described by the professionals in the signs all too often are overlooking by others, especially family and friends, or disguised by the person, and usually only seen in hindsight, and more often than not, with sad consequences.
It's with them that some put into their plan an out. It can be a last minute choice or a last second change, it's the same, they gave themselves an out. Not like they wanted to, or even know they did, but they did. And sometimes they take the out. Some to try another time and some to realize who they are and what's important.
So, why, if they're so focused on dying, they give themselves an out? I doubt anyone and even professionals, know. I'm sure there are a number of theories and ideas, often from ancedotal information and stories of patients who are still alive from choosing the out. I know I don't even know why I gave myself one, twice.
I'm sure there are people, especially religious folks, will try to relate it to or about God and God's will or about the person found salvation or even God in the last minute. In truth, that's bullshit. When you're there, you don't see or know God, so I doubt there's any realization, let alone a revelation, about God. It's simply about life and death, yours.
In some ways I don't think it's different when people in a situation or circumstance are near or facing death. Some fight to live, some accept death, and some gave up early on. With suicide, it's the same except it's your decision to act or not, to life or not, and why some give themselves an out and use it. It's not that they won't be there again, and may choose the same or a different answer.
As you can read, I'm only talking from my experience and understanding, which isn't much, just mine and what I've learned in the intervening years. All I know is the out was there and I chose it. The first at the last minute and the second knowing I had the choice. It's why I personally think some don't put the out in the (suicide) plan and some do subconsciously. For the latter, it's the last second choice.
The simple out. Today I won't, but tomorrow, i don't know. I only know when I get there and facing myself to decide and act. The rest is what happens.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The choices given
I've always believe when we wake up each morning we have two choices, we can get better or we can get worse. There is nothing in between. Some days it's a combination of the two, but it's where the balance was at the end of the day that determines which won the day. I believe this applies to everything we do, you can always boil the choices to their essence to find it's about better or worse.
And the constant accumulation of the worse days in the free-fall of emotions and feelings that causes the worst periods of depression. Sometimes it a matter of letting myself free fall until I hit bottom to know where and what I'm mentally standing when I can decide to look at the choices. The worse was both an unconscious and a conscious decision and act, and where the two separate I don't know. Only they have one answer together.
This, however, doesn't cover another set of choices we have and face every day. Whether or not to like something, meaning ourselves. I don't know of too many people who don't have something they don't like about themselves, whether they express it or not, it's there, always there, in the back of their mind, sitting for the moment to find our consciousness in a momentary lapse and make us look at ourselves and discover what we hate.
For some it's never left the consciousness, either from unconscious choice to keep it there, from the constant reminders in our clothes, in the mirror or from other people, especially friends or family who remind us about it, sometimes disguised as love or help, which it never is, but it's hard for them to see that because they don't know how much it hurts. And hurt it does, keeping the mental scars open to our heart and mind, alive in our life every day. There and never going away.
But then we can choose to get or do better there too, at least until we run up against our genetics, that pesky wall of our physical being and physiology which limits, and usually stops, the better in its track. And breaking through that barrier is another choice we face, how much better is better, and where and when does not hate about ourselves become something else?
It's the old adage about the journey, meaning as long as we're striving, it's better. We're going in the right direction, or so we like or want to think, the choice of better over worse. But then why does it often not feel better, but simply more of the same, only harder?
I've never figured that out, why it doesn't feel better, except the occasional moment either when I physically feel better or I realize the distance in time from then to now to see it's different, and while maybe not better, just farther away from then and there. And that, sometimes, translates as better, but it's a relative better. But then better is a relative word which can mean simply not worse or less worse.
It depends on your view when you make the judgement. Others may see it differently than you. You know the then and there and the here and now, and what happened in between. You know the time when it got worse and you know the struggle to get away from the worse. And you know the fear of everything getting worse again. That's the reality, not the better, but the fear of the better not working and being another worse.
That's why sometimes the choice isn't. It's just one, live and hope for the better, or at least not the worse. As Father Mulcahy said, "When you're going through hell, sometimes the best thing is to just keep going." And it still seems the best choice of all.
And the constant accumulation of the worse days in the free-fall of emotions and feelings that causes the worst periods of depression. Sometimes it a matter of letting myself free fall until I hit bottom to know where and what I'm mentally standing when I can decide to look at the choices. The worse was both an unconscious and a conscious decision and act, and where the two separate I don't know. Only they have one answer together.
This, however, doesn't cover another set of choices we have and face every day. Whether or not to like something, meaning ourselves. I don't know of too many people who don't have something they don't like about themselves, whether they express it or not, it's there, always there, in the back of their mind, sitting for the moment to find our consciousness in a momentary lapse and make us look at ourselves and discover what we hate.
For some it's never left the consciousness, either from unconscious choice to keep it there, from the constant reminders in our clothes, in the mirror or from other people, especially friends or family who remind us about it, sometimes disguised as love or help, which it never is, but it's hard for them to see that because they don't know how much it hurts. And hurt it does, keeping the mental scars open to our heart and mind, alive in our life every day. There and never going away.
But then we can choose to get or do better there too, at least until we run up against our genetics, that pesky wall of our physical being and physiology which limits, and usually stops, the better in its track. And breaking through that barrier is another choice we face, how much better is better, and where and when does not hate about ourselves become something else?
It's the old adage about the journey, meaning as long as we're striving, it's better. We're going in the right direction, or so we like or want to think, the choice of better over worse. But then why does it often not feel better, but simply more of the same, only harder?
I've never figured that out, why it doesn't feel better, except the occasional moment either when I physically feel better or I realize the distance in time from then to now to see it's different, and while maybe not better, just farther away from then and there. And that, sometimes, translates as better, but it's a relative better. But then better is a relative word which can mean simply not worse or less worse.
It depends on your view when you make the judgement. Others may see it differently than you. You know the then and there and the here and now, and what happened in between. You know the time when it got worse and you know the struggle to get away from the worse. And you know the fear of everything getting worse again. That's the reality, not the better, but the fear of the better not working and being another worse.
That's why sometimes the choice isn't. It's just one, live and hope for the better, or at least not the worse. As Father Mulcahy said, "When you're going through hell, sometimes the best thing is to just keep going." And it still seems the best choice of all.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Having an out
There are many ways to commit suicide. Like that's new or news. What people often miss but those who know or understand, is that there are different types of suicide. Some attempts are people wanting, and asking in their own way, for help. Some are definitive, meaning the person chose a method that's almost always certain. And some, among the other types, are those where the person has an out.
Some may say all suicides have an out, meaning the person can simply choose not to commit the act. How naive of them to think that. When most suicides get to the point of the act itself, thinking of an out isn't there. That's because thinking isn't there, only their sense of being. An out has to be part of the act or part of the person.
An out as part of the act is simply the way out. It's not always a safe out, and sometimes just the act of insufficiency of means or sometimes just a last second change of heart. An out as part of the person is where the act was planned to have an out. It doesn't mean the person didn't or doesn't intend to complete the act, something in their sense of being and life put it there.
This isn't the same as someone who in one instant in a state of depression tries to commit suicide and some who succeed by accident. It's part of the mental events they went through in deciding and planning the act. Every act has a last moment when it's a yes or no, but not really. It's nice to say by those who want to think so, but it's not true. The choice was already made.
You might also say that having an out doesn't make the suicide real. If someone put an out in the act, then they really weren't certain. That's also not true. Some just think that way and their instincts put it there without really seeing or knowing why. With some it's the way of asking for help. With others it's the way to affirm their choice or affirm their will, however diminished, to life.
Both are made, not to choose life, but simply give the person an out. Deep within their psyche a kernal exists that fights for life and it's put into the plan and act to be there, just in case something changes and the person sees something, like a distant candle in the darkness. It's always been there. You don't see it until you look in that direction. But it also takes the darkness to see it.
What's this leading to? Someone asked about my attempts, and thinking back, and even forward, I gave myself an out.
Some may say all suicides have an out, meaning the person can simply choose not to commit the act. How naive of them to think that. When most suicides get to the point of the act itself, thinking of an out isn't there. That's because thinking isn't there, only their sense of being. An out has to be part of the act or part of the person.
An out as part of the act is simply the way out. It's not always a safe out, and sometimes just the act of insufficiency of means or sometimes just a last second change of heart. An out as part of the person is where the act was planned to have an out. It doesn't mean the person didn't or doesn't intend to complete the act, something in their sense of being and life put it there.
This isn't the same as someone who in one instant in a state of depression tries to commit suicide and some who succeed by accident. It's part of the mental events they went through in deciding and planning the act. Every act has a last moment when it's a yes or no, but not really. It's nice to say by those who want to think so, but it's not true. The choice was already made.
You might also say that having an out doesn't make the suicide real. If someone put an out in the act, then they really weren't certain. That's also not true. Some just think that way and their instincts put it there without really seeing or knowing why. With some it's the way of asking for help. With others it's the way to affirm their choice or affirm their will, however diminished, to life.
Both are made, not to choose life, but simply give the person an out. Deep within their psyche a kernal exists that fights for life and it's put into the plan and act to be there, just in case something changes and the person sees something, like a distant candle in the darkness. It's always been there. You don't see it until you look in that direction. But it also takes the darkness to see it.
What's this leading to? Someone asked about my attempts, and thinking back, and even forward, I gave myself an out.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
A song
The group Basement Band has a song "Charleston", which to me has some great opening lines.
I am old.
I am weary.
And I'm coming home to die.
Would you bury me me by the old Oak tree
'tween the river and the ashweed?
Charleston won't you bury me.
That song and Dave Matthew's song Gravedigger, with the lines
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
always hits a chord with me. It's not a fascination with death, but a feeling when we die, we want to be buried where we want to feel home. It's why most people commiting suicide pick the time and place carefully. It's important to them to be and feel safe when they die. Somewhere they're at and going home.
Home to be there and home to die.
It's why I know the next time I think about it enough to follow through, I know where I'll go. It's my favorite spot in Mt. Rainier NP, a remote, little-used trail where you can fit a place off the trail away from everyone and watch Mt. Rainier and see the glaciers in the endless dynamics of nature's forces, a volcano, constantly building, destroying and rebuilding a mountain and glaciers, the product of the volcano's location constantly craving their space and place against the mountain and weather.
Not a hard choice to make, the location that is. Dying is the harder part for me and why a third time won't be a success unless the forces are so overwhelming to lose all feeling and connection with life. It's either go there to die or someone share my ashes there.
Either way I'll be there. Leaving this world behind me.
No, I don't believe there is a heaven or some after-death place we go. We just die and our ashes returns to what it was before to start anew. Remember we're all stardust and we should all go back to being stardust. Anything else is cheating the universe of ourselves. Our efforts will carry on in the hearts of those who loved us and those we helped in our life. Let's not be stingy with our ashes and not share them with the future.
Or so that's my story, and until something better comes along, as Jimmy Buffett sang, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
I am old.
I am weary.
And I'm coming home to die.
Would you bury me me by the old Oak tree
'tween the river and the ashweed?
Charleston won't you bury me.
That song and Dave Matthew's song Gravedigger, with the lines
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
always hits a chord with me. It's not a fascination with death, but a feeling when we die, we want to be buried where we want to feel home. It's why most people commiting suicide pick the time and place carefully. It's important to them to be and feel safe when they die. Somewhere they're at and going home.
Home to be there and home to die.
It's why I know the next time I think about it enough to follow through, I know where I'll go. It's my favorite spot in Mt. Rainier NP, a remote, little-used trail where you can fit a place off the trail away from everyone and watch Mt. Rainier and see the glaciers in the endless dynamics of nature's forces, a volcano, constantly building, destroying and rebuilding a mountain and glaciers, the product of the volcano's location constantly craving their space and place against the mountain and weather.
Not a hard choice to make, the location that is. Dying is the harder part for me and why a third time won't be a success unless the forces are so overwhelming to lose all feeling and connection with life. It's either go there to die or someone share my ashes there.
Either way I'll be there. Leaving this world behind me.
No, I don't believe there is a heaven or some after-death place we go. We just die and our ashes returns to what it was before to start anew. Remember we're all stardust and we should all go back to being stardust. Anything else is cheating the universe of ourselves. Our efforts will carry on in the hearts of those who loved us and those we helped in our life. Let's not be stingy with our ashes and not share them with the future.
Or so that's my story, and until something better comes along, as Jimmy Buffett sang, "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Solutions and answers
I was reading about the recent death of model and actress Lucy Gordon in Paris. She was twenty-eight years old with, as everyone likes to say, "a promising future." Well, we all do and it's just the normal perspective people take in these circumstances. People forget with depression, death is never the solution, but it's sometimes the answer.
It's hard to realize let alone really understand the smallness of someone's world when they're depressed to the point of suicide. And unless you've been there, you don't have a clue. It's one of the few experiences in life, you really have to have been there to understand. Empathy and sympathy are ok, but they're not understanding. And that's what's always missing in the discussion after their death.
People forget in depression, the person has already been through the litany of alternatives people expect us to consider and even choose. We've long left those along the road. They've been long exploded out of our thinking when we imploded into ourselves. We're down to the choice of life or death. And neither don't seem to solve the problems weighing on us, but death seems the better answer.
It's where everything disappears and we can find peace with the world and ourselves. And as much as we want to be with them and explain life is both the solution and the answer, we can't. It's not that they don't see us, or hear us. It's not about us, and not even about them, but simply our own individual existence. We've striped away all the facades and layers of feelings. We down to the basic choice we all face, death.
And the survivors are always suprised. "We didn't know.", is the common answers. Like all the clues weren't there? Or just that you were blind? And you didn't care enough about what they really felt and thought? Cruel? Yes, but truthful. I get tired of the, "We tried to help them.", response. It's bullshit. They didn't say because they saw you didn't really care about what really bothered them.
Both sides are blind. The person sitting in their own darkness wondering and wanting. And us, afraid to open the door with a candle. That's all you need to do, drop all the pretense and preaching. All they want is someone to sit with them and understand. They'll find their way out if they can, but they don't needs directions, just a companion.
A little light and one hand is everything, always there and always present in their mind.
It's hard to realize let alone really understand the smallness of someone's world when they're depressed to the point of suicide. And unless you've been there, you don't have a clue. It's one of the few experiences in life, you really have to have been there to understand. Empathy and sympathy are ok, but they're not understanding. And that's what's always missing in the discussion after their death.
People forget in depression, the person has already been through the litany of alternatives people expect us to consider and even choose. We've long left those along the road. They've been long exploded out of our thinking when we imploded into ourselves. We're down to the choice of life or death. And neither don't seem to solve the problems weighing on us, but death seems the better answer.
It's where everything disappears and we can find peace with the world and ourselves. And as much as we want to be with them and explain life is both the solution and the answer, we can't. It's not that they don't see us, or hear us. It's not about us, and not even about them, but simply our own individual existence. We've striped away all the facades and layers of feelings. We down to the basic choice we all face, death.
And the survivors are always suprised. "We didn't know.", is the common answers. Like all the clues weren't there? Or just that you were blind? And you didn't care enough about what they really felt and thought? Cruel? Yes, but truthful. I get tired of the, "We tried to help them.", response. It's bullshit. They didn't say because they saw you didn't really care about what really bothered them.
Both sides are blind. The person sitting in their own darkness wondering and wanting. And us, afraid to open the door with a candle. That's all you need to do, drop all the pretense and preaching. All they want is someone to sit with them and understand. They'll find their way out if they can, but they don't needs directions, just a companion.
A little light and one hand is everything, always there and always present in their mind.
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