Today is Suicide Awareness Day. Having attempted this myself and then losing someone close to me to suicide I have mixed feelings about it.
On one hand, having OD’d makes me understand the utter desperation. You are so far gone that you don’t even feel pain anymore; you don’t feel fear or guilt or spare a single thought to the people you will leave behind. Or perhaps you do but think in the long run they’d just be better off without you, they’d grieve, sure, but time would heal and it would be like you weren’t even there. Suicide doesn’t think or feel, it’s a total empty void.
On the other hand, a week after I came out of the psych ward, one month after my suicide attempt, my mum’s boyfriend of 3 years shot himself. I will never forget that night, ever. I sit and type this with tears streaming down my face. it’ll be two years on the 19th October and the pain is still there. Yes you move on but the pain never leaves. I think I feel such pain because I know the desperation and I wish he’d shown some sign so that I could’ve tried to talk him out of it or done something…anything. To then not only deal with the other side of suicide so soon after my own attempt and discharge back into the real world, but to then see my mum fall apart and know that I just wasn’t able to hold her pain and all my own mixed emotions. To see the utter pain that he left behind, the questions and secrets and emptiness. He was the most amazing person, so caring and loving and gentle. Pure heart. And then suddenly he was gone. I still have nightmares about his death. I see him meticulously preparing and I see him going numbly through the process: placing his documents neatly on his desk, picking up the gun, stepping in to the bathroom at work, placing the bag over his head so that he wouldn’t make a mess and cause more inconvenience, pulling the trigger…
What did he think as he did each step in silent calm? Was he numb like I was? What did he feel as he pulled that trigger? Did he instantly regret it? Did he feel pain? The difference with OD-ing is it isn’t instant and I had time for my thoughts and fears to kick in. If it hadn’t been for my emetophobia I would never have called up my therapist and I probably wouldn’t be here.
So this day sits heavily in my being. I cannot condone suicide as I still sit here with utter heart wrenching pain over the loss we suffered. I’ve seen the chaos left behind. But I cannot preach not to do it either as I fully understand the place where life ceases to exist inside you before you attempt to make the outer world reflect that inner death. And I believe it is no one’s choice but our own.
My parting words on this are:
If you really weren’t put on this earth to serve a purpose, why would you have been born at all? There is a reason your soul incarnated into this life, this journey. As shitty and fucked up as it can get, YOU have a purpose because you were born. I can’t see my own purpose but I fight every day because I know I am here, just like you, for some specific plan…or maybe even a few specific plans. Who knows. Whatever the reason…we are meant to be here…nothing is so random. There is just meaning we don’t understand.
My choice is to keep fighting.