29 and Gone

As many of you may know, actor Lee Thompson Young passed away this week.  He was 29, and it is apparent that he shot himself.  There was no suicide note, and people who knew him are trying to make sense of why he would do such a thing.  He, apparently, evidenced nothing that would indicate he was in distress and had no history of drug or alcohol abuse. 

I have been pondering this for nearly a week now, and a couple things stand out for me about this horrible tragedy.  The first is that society automatically associates suicide with substance abuse; meaning that suicide is a result of substance abuse.  The second is that we never really know what another person is going through.

I have mentioned multiple times before that society likes to put things in boxes.  We are hard wired to stereo type.  So, in this case, if you commit suicide you must be abusing substances.  The ignorance of this assumption incenses me.   People commit suicide because they are in a kind of distress that is palpable.  In other words, the kind of pain a person who commits suicide experiences transcends all rationale and identifiable ideologies about pain.  If you have been there you know just what I mean, and if you have not, invest your time in being thankful to have dodged a bullet rather than positing about that which you know nothing.

I know I have mentioned before this idea that a person who commits suicide is a coward.  So, I wonder how many of the general populous that support this philosophy could put a gun to their heads and pull the trigger.  It is not cowardice.  It is the ultimate level of desperation and despair.  The person who is able to do such a thing has reached a place where they truly believe with every fiber that there is no way through, and the level of exhaustion that is evident in that moment saturates the physical and mental through to the very soul.  

My point here is that we need, as a society, to quit making assumptions about what a person in distress should look like.  If we have somehow absorbed the ideology that a person who commits suicide is someone who is a drug addict or alcoholic, then we will miss all the warning signs of the person who does neither and is standing on a ledge ready to jump.  Stop looking at what you are told and start paying attention to things about those that are around you that just do not fit with their usual patterns.   If you see something wonky about someone in your life, communicate with them and be genuine, because you may be the only life line that can keep them on that ledge and not in free fall.

And as a side note, people assume that addicts commit suicide.  Sometimes that happens, but that is not always the norm.  What I mean is that suicide is not the goal—ecstasy, maybe; escape, likely.  Sometimes they lose track of what they have taken and take more.  Sometimes they simply think that they can handle what they are taking, and sometimes their bodies have reached a point where they can no longer process the substance being taken.  It’s not always about the addict trying to kill him/herself. 

When I think of this young man who ended his life, I am saddened because of the tragic loss of his life, but I am also saddened because there are too many out there struggling to keep from ending things.  Life sometimes becomes a daily uphill climb without respite, and the fight just drains the person of his or her will to live.  And then there are those of us who have chronic mental illness.  Such illnesses automatically weaken the fabric of stamina it takes to move through life.  

I have dealt with suicide in my life for two decades.  I have said many times that it is a back door out of a crowded room.  It is always an option.  Sometimes it is up front and center, but, thankfully these days, most of the times it is a shadow down the hall.  

Still, there are times when what is happening in the outside world and what is happening in my inner world slam into each other and the essence of who I am is sandwiched between the two, suffocating.  When that happens the heart beat of who I am, the very fabric of my person begins to die off, unable to move, unable to cry out, unable to do anything but slowly fade away.  And that is why I have been very willing to end my life.  The pain of being slowing crushed between the two worlds is quite literally more painful than ending it all.

I know that Abba loves me, and even at such times when I am fading away, I know this.  I have heard over and over from pious idiots that you will go to hell if you commit suicide.  I have never experienced condemnation during such times.  He has never been anything but gentle and loving to me.  When I use my last breath to cry out to him, he is there, saving me.  I don’t know how.  I don’t know what happens.  Memory fails in such times of complete devastation and despair, but I know that I am still here because of him.  Ultimately, there is no other reason. 

I have had periods of time when I told my mom I could no longer fight the illnesses ruling my life.  Years and years of trying to find stability and never quite getting there ruined me.  I could no longer climb the hill every day.  I remember telling her that I was sorry, but I could no longer fight, and she said she knew that.  She knew I was going to end it all, and she understood.  That is why my mom is the most important person in this life.  The best, most incredible person I know, and though I suspended action for her, I would also be more than willing to die for her.

If you are reading my blog right now, and you think you have it all figured out about suicide and your are placing judgment on something you have no knowledge of, watch yourself.  I mention having no knowledge because those who have experienced suicidal tendencies are no longer willing to judge on this subject.  Rather often they are amazed and humbled that they ended up in such a place.  I say watch yourself because, looking at the statistics, there is an indication that either you or someone you love will deal with suicidal ideations at some point.  And if you can’t seem to wrap your head around this different idea about suicide, relax; most likely at some point something will happen that will wrap your head around the idea for you.

I am thinking of Lee Thompson Young’s mom right now, and I am so sad for her.  To lose a child in this way would be devastating.  It seems that it has come as a surprise for those who knew him.  We are not privy to the details, as should be the case, so there is no way to know if there were chronic issues, but regardless, my prayers are with his family.  People do not randomly kill themselves.  So, there had to have been mental health issues, possibly depression.  We want to understand why.  But sometimes there are no answers, and we are left with the aftermath.  That is just the way it is. 

For my part, being in the particular situation I am in, I have an automatic program I have installed over many years of dealing with suicide that forces a very strong consideration of my parents and siblings and what my decision might do to impact their lives, and it helps tremendously in choosing to abstain.  There was a time, as I mentioned previously, where my illness was draining my family both financially and emotionally, and I was taking them down with me.  There was no possible remedy in sight, and that was the time when I very nearly made a permanent decision.  I know many believe suicide is selfish, but aren’t we all selfish?  On a daily basis we naturally look out for #1?  It takes a big stretch on a regular basis to put others before self.  So, why expect more from the person in major crisis?  Because it’s permanent?  Come on.  It is selfish, but so is buying yourself a pair of shoes when your kids need new ones.  So is going to the baseball game or a concert when your neighbor can’t pay his or her bills.  Who is to say what choice a person should make when you have not been there.  We shape the definition to fit our comfort level.

So I propose we make an attempt to not draw conclusions about others; that we do not judge them based on our scale of ethics and morality and invest our time in really looking at others, seeing their pain rather than blindly looking over the tops of their heads, and make an effort to provide any little bit of hope we can.  If we do that maybe the number of people committing suicide before their lives have really begun will decrease and they will be able to move through their despair and on into who they were always designed to be.

L

Maybe Tomorrow

I have been sitting here staring at this blank page wondering what to say.  Hard to believe I would struggle with something to say, I know.  But, alas, there it is.  There has been a lot of activity of late; birthday parties, visitors, and everyday life adjustments.  But somehow through it all I have maintained a strong sense of detachment, and that is not good.

I know that stress is playing a role in my disconnect. I am very aware of this, but the disconnect still occurs whether I am cognizant of the fact or not.  Events happen in my life whether I give them permission or not, and right now my way of coping is to put a barrier between all that is going on and my mind.  

I know that hope remains.  I know that this funk I am in, compounded by life stressers, will eventually shift.  I know that even though every time I think we are getting on top of things and something else goes wrong like someone ends up in the ER, our lawnmower gets blown out, or one of our animals gets hurt, it is just a hit and will not last forever.  I get it. That still does not negate real time.

I attend a Bible study on Wednesdays, and it is very good for me and my hubby.  But I gotta say it gets old when some person in the group starts spouting off platitudes about freedom and victory, especially when he or she is 20 years old.  I have, thus far, remained silent in response, because I know the person means well.  But when, after the meeting, and elderly woman comes up to me and is in tears because she knows she is doing something wrong, because she is unable to be victorious in the midst of massive change, my blood begins to boil.

This woman lost her husband a year ago after spending most of a lifetime with him, and now on top of all that adjusting, she has another big change she is working through.  I just hugged her and told her that victory comes at many different points, and she is not failing because life sucks right now.  She is simply moving through the process, and that is where grace and hope factor in.  They get us to victory.  I assured her I am right there with her, and looking for the positive does not mean pretending things aren’t bad.  

I have known people that seem to skate through life with little or no diversity.  I do not understand how that happens, nor can I identify with it in any way.  I simply choose not to try to figure it out, but what amazes me is that it is often those people who feel they have the answers for everyone else. 

I know.  I know.  Try to speak to the good in life; that which is working, but here is the thing, sometimes, you have been in certain place for so long that it is difficult to see anything but what is right in front of your face, those things that are demanding, no screaming, for your attention, and they are not happy things.  They are not positive things.  They are crisis points. 

For me, after too many such crisis points that continually pop up for, say, half a year or more, I become extremely mentally fatigued.  It is difficult to remember things.  It is a challenge responding with anything other than emotional flat line, and I begin to get very claustrophobic in my life situation.  Everything I do becomes manual, and I struggle to function at the most basic of levels.  I am very frustrated with myself, because I, am once again, not normal, and no matter how many years go by with this illness, I will be forever reminded it is alive and well.  Case in point...

We had a barbeque with a couple of families in the neighborhood.  It took all day Saturday to get things ready.  I knew that the stress of getting things ready and then interacting with people would be a stress on my mind, especially right now when I am already dealing with depression.  But it needed to be done.  My family needs interaction, and it is not their fault they live with a recluse. 

I made it through the day.  It was a total God thing, and I only had one close call with a panic attack.  Very good for having 12 people in close quarters.  But since then I have been worthless.  I can hardly function mentally.  Sunday I could hardly rub two thoughts together.  Yesterday I slept most of the day, and when I got up, I was still exhausted.  I know what is going on.  I know that being over stimulated in combination with having to be social is just really hard on me, but the knowledge does little.  

So, I am reminded, once again, that I do not fall within normal parameters.  I never will.  I will always have limitations for coping with life in this world, and no matter how healthy I am or how well I plan, I will never experience recovery, as our mental health model is so fond of purporting.  I cannot recover, because it does not go away.  There is not room for recovery, because it is not possible to get back to a mind that is unaffected by mental illness.  I do damage control, and I maintain.  That is the way of things with an illness that has no cure.  Ask anyone with diabetes.  They will tell you the same.

Today, I have a list of things to do, a few of which require that I leave the house.  I may as well be scaling Mount Everest.  But I will do it in spite of the agoraphobia that wants to hold me hostage in my house.  Leaving the house and getting into the car will take a Herculean effort, but I will do it, because it needs to be done, and I need to keep forcing myself to keep pushing the disorder back into its place so that I don’t lose all the ground I have gained.

I will continue to force myself to respond to people in exchanges, because it has to be done.  I will smile when cued, respond appropriately when the conversation flow denotes it, and I will express emotional responses even though I do not feel them; have no emotional connection.  Then I will sleep a lot, because having to manually trigger myself in social situations is absolutely exhausting to my mental functions.  This is how I get through times like this until things balance out.  It is easier to attempt to appear somewhat as usual to people in my life, so that those relationships are not harmed overly much.  I can do things manually for a time.  I just can’t do it indefinitely.  

I suppose I should attempt a positive note here, but I have to be authentic in my writing, so I will express the only thing I know absolutely to be true right now, and that is that Abba is with me.  He never leaves me alone, and even though I see no point in life and continuing it, I know that he can handle what to do with my life and where to take me whether I see a point to it right now or not.  Today that is what I am hoping in.  Maybe tomorrow there will be victory.

L