Recently I've learned of one person I know directly and one indirectly who chose suicide as a means to an end. Every time I hear of this I feel sad and sometimes, I feel relief for that person because I'd like to hope that whatever hurt them here in this realm is gone in the next and they are at peace. Finally.
Since my mental health journey began, I have struggled with my own suicidal thoughts and extensive counseling and copious medications have gotten me through to this point. It hasn't been easy and I'll be honest when I say people rally for you during a crisis but nobody wants to walk the dark walk of depression for you. And I get it. It's isolating, it's frustrating, it makes no sense, and it feels like you're going nowhere. Nobody really wants to know how you really are when they ask, "how are you?". Let's face it, when someone says, "I'm doing really awful but hey- I'm medicated.", you start to back away and look around for someone else to talk to. Nobody knows what to say and I think a lot of us recognize when someone is struggling but we choose to ignore it.
Then a person chooses suicide and suddenly we rally, because it's a crisis and it makes us feel good, and we say, "reach out to someone today", "be kind to someone today" and for what? For today? Because by the end of the week we'll still think of the person and feel sadness but we've gone back to our behaviors. Instead of reacting to a crisis we have to move our mentality to prevention. I'll be the first to tell you that, for me, the suicide prevention phone numbers are a joke. Hearing someone say, "we'd miss you", "you're loved", "I'm hear for you" didn't work either. For me I knew my journey began and ended with me and it was going to be me to pull myself out of the hole, nobody else. But it would have been nice for someone to give me a hug and validate my feelings. Because though you couldn't understand them, my feelings mean something and they are my truth, as distorted as they are.
I'm rambling. I guess I just feel frustrated that in the aftermath of suicide, everyone wants to rally and pretend that they had no clue. That they can't look back in hindsight and think... there wasn't one thing I could have done differently. The fact is there always is. You can always make time for people, you can always hold their hand. Offer support. Give them a hug. Take them to get counseling. Go with them. Call them nightly to check in. Don't let them retreat inside of themselves. It's hard WORK to walk with someone with depression, I know it is, but it has to be done. Not everyone can do it themselves.
I feel like I have a really unpopular opinion on suicide but I think that now comes from being on the edge myself. I know before I looked at suicide as a selfish solution and now it almost feels selfless, like I wouldn't be a burden anymore so really I'd be doing you all a favor. It's a very warped way of thinking and I can tell you it feels like waves of thought, it comes and it goes. But when it's here? It's awful. It's all consuming. It is a voice that doesn't shut off and it's a continual loop of all the reasons you shouldn't be here. So when I hear of someone who has chosen suicide, only a small part of me feels sad for everyone else, but a bigger part of me feels hope that they are finally at peace. I hope it's quiet wherever they are. I hope it's peaceful. I hope whatever troubled them here has disappeared and they can feel the happiness that eluded them here.
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 9, 2018
Monday, January 15, 2018
Sometimes when you think you're helpful, you're being lazy.
I'll start this by saying that my feelings about this are no way indicative of every person who is or has been in my position. I'll also put out there that I used to do all of these things, be that person, but I genuinely thought I was doing good.
I used to be one of those people who heard about suicide and immediately thought, "That is incredibly selfish. You're surrounded by people who want to help you and you don't even care enough to let them help." I was that person, no question. Full stop.
Then I became suicidal and I realize what an asshole I was. I wasn't helping by pointing any of this out, but what I was doing was trying to guilt the person into staying here. Guilt is not a reason to stay on Earth. Nobody should stay here because of what they can do for you, whether that's supporting you or just being the person under a title in your life (mother, father, friend, spouse, etc), or because you have fond memories and you like that person: that is not a good enough reason for them to stay alive because what that is is YOU being selfish. You're thinking about what you would be feeling with them gone instead of what it feels like for them to be alive every single day.
Sure, some depression is passing. We all have days where we think, "fuck it all, I'm done" and we have them in varying degrees. Some of us say it, don't mean it, and that's that. Some say it and maybe think about it in passing but it's enough to convince them it's just a bad day. Some people think about it hard, really weigh it out, but ultimately it passes and they are able to move on and be OK. Then there are some people where it is like a continuous loop of negative in our head. It's a cassette tape that never ends, it's on repeat, and you never shut it off. At best you can turn the volume down a bit but out of nowhere it gets cranked up and you suddenly feel like you have no control over it. If you hear something enough times, you agree with it. It's making valid point and it starts sounding like a better idea every day.
One of the resources available to all of us are suicide hotlines. I have called it one time in the last year and it was the worst 12 minutes of my life. I got a young sounding guy, sounded like a young boy, and he was reading of a terribly written script and when I detailed why I felt the way I do, he gave me silence. He had no answers for me, didn't have any information about where I should go for help, and I hung up that phone feeling worse than ever. I don't remember how I got through that night but it was hard. While I laid in my bed, with tears streaming down my face and my husband asleep next to me, I remember countless friends telling me to "reach out" if I need help.
So I did.
I made a lot of phone calls. Maybe because it was the middle of the night, but I got no answers. No returned texts. Nobody even returned the missed call they had to have seen on their phones. I can't fault them because we're all busy with our lives and I get it. I hate talking on the phone, so I understand about anxiety. I also know that nobody wants to be the last person someone talks to, it's a lot of pressure. What if they kill themselves, is it because of something you said? Did you motivate them to jump off the bridge?
I get it.
I could go on and on, but I won't. I will say this though, if you know someone who needs help, who is maybe on the fringe, do something. If they matter to you, do something. Call around and find the mental health resources in the area, sit with them, bring them food and hugs, let them cry no matter how uncomfortable it makes you, listen to them, don't tell them to be grateful or think of everyone who has it worse because in those moments? This is worse than cancer. It's worse than babies with cancer. I'm not kidding. In those dark moments the tape is so loud and it says every negative thing. It overpowers everything good in your life and you just want it to stop. If ending your life makes it stop, it is worth it, in those moments.
I won't pretend to tell you I've beaten it because I very much haven't. While my medications quiet the noise, I still hear it. The medication numbs my ability to plan but I still want to die each and every day. The medication slows me down and makes me tired, and I don't think I'd have the energy to do anything even if I had a solid plan. I'm also not begrudging anyone around me. I think you all genuinely think you've done everything you could or are comfortable doing. I get it. I'm with you, I don't know what I would do if the tables were turned. But I ask you, I beg you, please don't tell me to call a hotline, to reach out, to be grateful, to look at all of the good around me, because none of it helps and none of it matters. Give me an actual solution.
I used to be one of those people who heard about suicide and immediately thought, "That is incredibly selfish. You're surrounded by people who want to help you and you don't even care enough to let them help." I was that person, no question. Full stop.
Then I became suicidal and I realize what an asshole I was. I wasn't helping by pointing any of this out, but what I was doing was trying to guilt the person into staying here. Guilt is not a reason to stay on Earth. Nobody should stay here because of what they can do for you, whether that's supporting you or just being the person under a title in your life (mother, father, friend, spouse, etc), or because you have fond memories and you like that person: that is not a good enough reason for them to stay alive because what that is is YOU being selfish. You're thinking about what you would be feeling with them gone instead of what it feels like for them to be alive every single day.
Sure, some depression is passing. We all have days where we think, "fuck it all, I'm done" and we have them in varying degrees. Some of us say it, don't mean it, and that's that. Some say it and maybe think about it in passing but it's enough to convince them it's just a bad day. Some people think about it hard, really weigh it out, but ultimately it passes and they are able to move on and be OK. Then there are some people where it is like a continuous loop of negative in our head. It's a cassette tape that never ends, it's on repeat, and you never shut it off. At best you can turn the volume down a bit but out of nowhere it gets cranked up and you suddenly feel like you have no control over it. If you hear something enough times, you agree with it. It's making valid point and it starts sounding like a better idea every day.
One of the resources available to all of us are suicide hotlines. I have called it one time in the last year and it was the worst 12 minutes of my life. I got a young sounding guy, sounded like a young boy, and he was reading of a terribly written script and when I detailed why I felt the way I do, he gave me silence. He had no answers for me, didn't have any information about where I should go for help, and I hung up that phone feeling worse than ever. I don't remember how I got through that night but it was hard. While I laid in my bed, with tears streaming down my face and my husband asleep next to me, I remember countless friends telling me to "reach out" if I need help.
So I did.
I made a lot of phone calls. Maybe because it was the middle of the night, but I got no answers. No returned texts. Nobody even returned the missed call they had to have seen on their phones. I can't fault them because we're all busy with our lives and I get it. I hate talking on the phone, so I understand about anxiety. I also know that nobody wants to be the last person someone talks to, it's a lot of pressure. What if they kill themselves, is it because of something you said? Did you motivate them to jump off the bridge?
I get it.
I could go on and on, but I won't. I will say this though, if you know someone who needs help, who is maybe on the fringe, do something. If they matter to you, do something. Call around and find the mental health resources in the area, sit with them, bring them food and hugs, let them cry no matter how uncomfortable it makes you, listen to them, don't tell them to be grateful or think of everyone who has it worse because in those moments? This is worse than cancer. It's worse than babies with cancer. I'm not kidding. In those dark moments the tape is so loud and it says every negative thing. It overpowers everything good in your life and you just want it to stop. If ending your life makes it stop, it is worth it, in those moments.
I won't pretend to tell you I've beaten it because I very much haven't. While my medications quiet the noise, I still hear it. The medication numbs my ability to plan but I still want to die each and every day. The medication slows me down and makes me tired, and I don't think I'd have the energy to do anything even if I had a solid plan. I'm also not begrudging anyone around me. I think you all genuinely think you've done everything you could or are comfortable doing. I get it. I'm with you, I don't know what I would do if the tables were turned. But I ask you, I beg you, please don't tell me to call a hotline, to reach out, to be grateful, to look at all of the good around me, because none of it helps and none of it matters. Give me an actual solution.
Wednesday, April 5, 2017
Life is cruel and optimism is pointless.
I could be one of those epic vague bloggers and beat around the bush, give you pointless drivel about why life is hard and woe is me, but you know I'm not that person. Instead, I've always been 100% honest with how I feel, what's happening, even when I know others don't want to hear it or it makes them worry.
I don't do it to be cruel, I do it because I have to get it out of me otherwise I will explode. When I was younger I feel like I did an excellent job keeping all of my troubles to myself and I worried about how my sad or depressed feelings would be for others and I never wanted to inconvenience people. But as I get older, and mostly because I've entered a new level of depression, I can't do that anymore. What I feel comes out, good, bad or indifferent.
So in my last post I mentioned how we put our house up for sale and made an offer on another house, which was accepted. Matt and I have been doing so well working on our finances (more on the last of our FPU classes soon) and making hard decisions. We have hit some pretty startling, and sobering, facts that hurt. First, we're broke. We're not like, "Oh man, I wish I could go to this concert but I can't because I'm broke" broke, we're more in the, "I'm not sure if I can buy groceries... maybe if I just pay half of the utility bill because I can't cut back on my medication and we have to make a full house payment" kind of broke. So we decided first and foremost, pay off all of the credit card debts that we could with our tax refund. Did that, and we're still broke. So then we decided that we'd sell the house and move into a new one that is markedly cheaper per month. Yes, it's kind of dumpy and needs a LOT of work, but Matt's so handy that in time it would be OK. Matt's truck is paid off so we're putting his truck payment towards other debt to hopefully snowball it and that would eventually help. We've made a lot of other changes to just stay afloat, but doing the hard math? Well it tells us that in about a year, maybe two if we're lucky, we're going to be in dire straights.
And not even of our own doing.
All of it would stem back to my long term medical needs (non-stop appointments with Neurologist, Primary Care, Endocrinology, and Mayo Clinic, not to mention my Psychologist and Psychiatrist) and medications from my AFE.
So at the encouragement of essentially everyone, I applied for any kind of assistance through the State of Wisconsin. Hilariously, we don't qualify. I'd like to know how in the world any of these programs can justify using your pre-tax income as the threshold. If Matt was actually bringing anywhere close to that home, we'd be in amazing shape. But no. He pays for our health insurance, he's taxed out the rear, and then what he does bring home is spread so thin. He can't work the ridiculous hours he used to because I am a hot mess and I am not in any shape capable of taking care of the kids by myself because I break down into tears and scare them.
I don't want to be a mess of a mom. I really don't. This is against everything I set out to be and I hate that I can't control any of it.
Anyways.
We were denied for all assistance, and WIC. We can't even get WIC and as I'm told by everyone, "Everyone gets WIC". Well we don't, folks.
So we had EVERYTHING banked into the basket of this new house. Hoping we'd make enough from our sale to fix a few things and it would all be OK. We spent our emergency fund on earnest money. We spent the last of our savings on new carpet for the stairs and hallway because everyone said if we spent that money it would make a big difference. Spoiler: it hasn't. The seller of the house we want is in obvious financial trouble herself and needs to sell ASAP and doesn't want to wait for us to sell, so she took a second offer. Which means basically, we have until midnight tonight to have an accepted offer on our house otherwise we aren't in the running for that house.
Which wouldn't stress me out normally because we've had like six or seven showings and all but one hated our house. The one who likes it, "had stuff come up" (join the god damn club) and is on the fence. We basically spent our reserves as a last Hail Mary to sell this house and SHOCKER, it hasn't paid off. That means if we don't sell this house in the next day, that means I get to stare at this stupid carpet and feel unbridled rage.
So the end story is that I am 99.9% sure we are going to lose that house. If we don't get an offer on ours today, we're pulling it off the market. Every other house that is four bedroom, and in our price range, in town is an absolute dump. It's either a dump, next to a sexual offender half way house, or in a disgusting part of town where I absolutely would not let my kids play outside. (So explain to me how my house is still on the market?!)
I can't even get into the nightmare that is showing your house when you are suicidal with severe depression. It's like every horrible, negative piece of "feedback" you could have thrown right at you. Some of them I want to strangle and just ask why they even looked at the house if it was too big for them? Why waste my time? Do you even know how difficult it is for me to get moving in the morning, let alone clean my house, feed the kids, and get them out of here for an hour or two? By the time I get home I just cry non stop because it's so physically taxing I can't think.
But I'm trying. I'm trying SO hard to be optimistic, and be the fearless, take-no-crap woman I used to be. Then I am reminded that person died in August and she is never coming back. I'm such an emotional wreck that I flat out told Matt today that every day that goes by only solidifies that I should have just died and stay dead. It would have been easier. The family would have had my life insurance, all of my retirement funds, survivor benefits, and Matt would have been swamped with help from my friends and family. Instead, I'm here, sucking up every last penny we have to stay alive and it feels selfish.
Yesterday Jackson, on his 9th birthday, told his friend at lunch that we aren't doing anything for summer because we're poor. He couldn't sign up for baseball because his mom couldn't pay for it and it's "too hard for her to leave the house a lot". I know he didn't mean it to be hurtful, but I sat there (I surprised him at school with a Happy Meal at lunch time) and I felt like the worst parent in the entire world. Then I go to the Realtor's office to be told that we tried but yeah... probably not going to happen. Cue crying in the Walmart parking lot for 45 minutes, pulling it together to go get Jackson's birthday cake, and crying the entire way home again.
I can't say it enough: every day it gets harder and harder to be alive. There isn't anything anyone can say or do to help me, this is something I have to navigate on my own. It's like guiding a ship through fog basically. I don't know what is on the other side but I'm supposed to just keep going. I just don't know how long I can do that. The only bright side is that at least I don't feel like I'm being unnecessarily dramatic because I have both my psychiatrist and my psychologist who tell me that I have every single right to feel the way I feel and that they are at a serious loss on how to help me. Because (wait for it) most people die from AFE so there isn't anything out there on how to help people cope with this kind of thing. So we keep trying different things because eventually something will stick. Right? I'm not even going to lie to you and tell you I'm optimistic about that.
I don't do it to be cruel, I do it because I have to get it out of me otherwise I will explode. When I was younger I feel like I did an excellent job keeping all of my troubles to myself and I worried about how my sad or depressed feelings would be for others and I never wanted to inconvenience people. But as I get older, and mostly because I've entered a new level of depression, I can't do that anymore. What I feel comes out, good, bad or indifferent.
So in my last post I mentioned how we put our house up for sale and made an offer on another house, which was accepted. Matt and I have been doing so well working on our finances (more on the last of our FPU classes soon) and making hard decisions. We have hit some pretty startling, and sobering, facts that hurt. First, we're broke. We're not like, "Oh man, I wish I could go to this concert but I can't because I'm broke" broke, we're more in the, "I'm not sure if I can buy groceries... maybe if I just pay half of the utility bill because I can't cut back on my medication and we have to make a full house payment" kind of broke. So we decided first and foremost, pay off all of the credit card debts that we could with our tax refund. Did that, and we're still broke. So then we decided that we'd sell the house and move into a new one that is markedly cheaper per month. Yes, it's kind of dumpy and needs a LOT of work, but Matt's so handy that in time it would be OK. Matt's truck is paid off so we're putting his truck payment towards other debt to hopefully snowball it and that would eventually help. We've made a lot of other changes to just stay afloat, but doing the hard math? Well it tells us that in about a year, maybe two if we're lucky, we're going to be in dire straights.
And not even of our own doing.
All of it would stem back to my long term medical needs (non-stop appointments with Neurologist, Primary Care, Endocrinology, and Mayo Clinic, not to mention my Psychologist and Psychiatrist) and medications from my AFE.
So at the encouragement of essentially everyone, I applied for any kind of assistance through the State of Wisconsin. Hilariously, we don't qualify. I'd like to know how in the world any of these programs can justify using your pre-tax income as the threshold. If Matt was actually bringing anywhere close to that home, we'd be in amazing shape. But no. He pays for our health insurance, he's taxed out the rear, and then what he does bring home is spread so thin. He can't work the ridiculous hours he used to because I am a hot mess and I am not in any shape capable of taking care of the kids by myself because I break down into tears and scare them.
I don't want to be a mess of a mom. I really don't. This is against everything I set out to be and I hate that I can't control any of it.
Anyways.
We were denied for all assistance, and WIC. We can't even get WIC and as I'm told by everyone, "Everyone gets WIC". Well we don't, folks.
So we had EVERYTHING banked into the basket of this new house. Hoping we'd make enough from our sale to fix a few things and it would all be OK. We spent our emergency fund on earnest money. We spent the last of our savings on new carpet for the stairs and hallway because everyone said if we spent that money it would make a big difference. Spoiler: it hasn't. The seller of the house we want is in obvious financial trouble herself and needs to sell ASAP and doesn't want to wait for us to sell, so she took a second offer. Which means basically, we have until midnight tonight to have an accepted offer on our house otherwise we aren't in the running for that house.
Which wouldn't stress me out normally because we've had like six or seven showings and all but one hated our house. The one who likes it, "had stuff come up" (join the god damn club) and is on the fence. We basically spent our reserves as a last Hail Mary to sell this house and SHOCKER, it hasn't paid off. That means if we don't sell this house in the next day, that means I get to stare at this stupid carpet and feel unbridled rage.
So the end story is that I am 99.9% sure we are going to lose that house. If we don't get an offer on ours today, we're pulling it off the market. Every other house that is four bedroom, and in our price range, in town is an absolute dump. It's either a dump, next to a sexual offender half way house, or in a disgusting part of town where I absolutely would not let my kids play outside. (So explain to me how my house is still on the market?!)
I can't even get into the nightmare that is showing your house when you are suicidal with severe depression. It's like every horrible, negative piece of "feedback" you could have thrown right at you. Some of them I want to strangle and just ask why they even looked at the house if it was too big for them? Why waste my time? Do you even know how difficult it is for me to get moving in the morning, let alone clean my house, feed the kids, and get them out of here for an hour or two? By the time I get home I just cry non stop because it's so physically taxing I can't think.
But I'm trying. I'm trying SO hard to be optimistic, and be the fearless, take-no-crap woman I used to be. Then I am reminded that person died in August and she is never coming back. I'm such an emotional wreck that I flat out told Matt today that every day that goes by only solidifies that I should have just died and stay dead. It would have been easier. The family would have had my life insurance, all of my retirement funds, survivor benefits, and Matt would have been swamped with help from my friends and family. Instead, I'm here, sucking up every last penny we have to stay alive and it feels selfish.
Yesterday Jackson, on his 9th birthday, told his friend at lunch that we aren't doing anything for summer because we're poor. He couldn't sign up for baseball because his mom couldn't pay for it and it's "too hard for her to leave the house a lot". I know he didn't mean it to be hurtful, but I sat there (I surprised him at school with a Happy Meal at lunch time) and I felt like the worst parent in the entire world. Then I go to the Realtor's office to be told that we tried but yeah... probably not going to happen. Cue crying in the Walmart parking lot for 45 minutes, pulling it together to go get Jackson's birthday cake, and crying the entire way home again.
I can't say it enough: every day it gets harder and harder to be alive. There isn't anything anyone can say or do to help me, this is something I have to navigate on my own. It's like guiding a ship through fog basically. I don't know what is on the other side but I'm supposed to just keep going. I just don't know how long I can do that. The only bright side is that at least I don't feel like I'm being unnecessarily dramatic because I have both my psychiatrist and my psychologist who tell me that I have every single right to feel the way I feel and that they are at a serious loss on how to help me. Because (wait for it) most people die from AFE so there isn't anything out there on how to help people cope with this kind of thing. So we keep trying different things because eventually something will stick. Right? I'm not even going to lie to you and tell you I'm optimistic about that.
Wednesday, January 4, 2017
No need for panic and alarm, lambs- I'm still kicking
It occurred to me that after my post on Monday, some of you were alarmed that maybe that was the end. I didn't mean to freak you out or leave you on Facebook stalking mode to make sure I was still posting; therefore, OK. I'm one to be honest and if that scares you or makes you feel the feels when you don't want to, I'm not sorry. Because it's about time we're honest about mental health because it isn't a comfortable topic to talk about. It's not supposed to make you feel the warm and fuzzies, if done correctly, it should scare you and spur you to reach out and check on that one friend who used to post a lot that you haven't heard from in awhile. The person would always had pictures of fun evenings out with friends who doesn't have anything recent. It's OK to just ask someone, "Hey- how are you REALLY doing? Can I help you? Can I bring you lunch some day?"
I get asked a lot if there is anything a person can do for me and my answer is always nothing. Not because I'm trying to be that annoying person who wants you to fish for something, but because truly, there's nothing you can do. You can't fix my brain chemistry, you can't fix the financial stress we're under, you can't make me healthy again. I'll jokingly say that if you happen to win the lottery, please think of me and I'll do the same for you if I win, but other than that... nothing.
Sometimes I'm not sure if it's my brain tricking me into thinking I can't be helped or if it's really something I just have to slog through on my own. I'm not joking when I say that human contact sounds like the worst possible thing in the whole world. When someone says they want to come sit with me I will do everything I can possibly think of to get you to not come over. I've even locked my doors and let a friend bang on it for exactly 38 minutes before she gave up and sent me a text saying I won.
I'm not trying to be a jerk, but when someone is here I more times than not feel like I have to entertain them even though they tell me I don't have to. I can't help it, it's ingrained to not cry like a baby for no reason in front of people. My life is not set up where I can just go take a nap when I want to (believe me, I'd never leave my bed if that was the case). I have two kids here to take care of, I have two kids in school. My house is a mess, it's not anywhere near what I would consider clean though you'd think otherwise. Just today I mopped my floors and it was the first time since a week before Christmas.
That's totally gross but honestly, it's the best I can do right now.
So it's not that I'm ignoring help, I have a small core of friends who if I text that I need something, I know they'll pull through. I know that if I need them, they'll be here as soon as humanly possible. I have my mom here every day helping me with the little girls and she is a saint. It's not so much that I can't handle it without her, but I can't handle it without her. Having her here is like a calming presence and I know that if I say I just need five minutes, she'll take over and never make me feel like I'm doing a terrible job. I'm trying really hard to pull it together for the sake of my kids because they deserve that. It's been a really hard five months on them, too and I sometimes forget that.
So thank you. Seriously. For everyone who has emailed, texted, called, messaged, or commented- thank you. I'm going to be OK. I won't just disappear off the planet on you. I'm far too organized for that, right?
I get asked a lot if there is anything a person can do for me and my answer is always nothing. Not because I'm trying to be that annoying person who wants you to fish for something, but because truly, there's nothing you can do. You can't fix my brain chemistry, you can't fix the financial stress we're under, you can't make me healthy again. I'll jokingly say that if you happen to win the lottery, please think of me and I'll do the same for you if I win, but other than that... nothing.
Sometimes I'm not sure if it's my brain tricking me into thinking I can't be helped or if it's really something I just have to slog through on my own. I'm not joking when I say that human contact sounds like the worst possible thing in the whole world. When someone says they want to come sit with me I will do everything I can possibly think of to get you to not come over. I've even locked my doors and let a friend bang on it for exactly 38 minutes before she gave up and sent me a text saying I won.
I'm not trying to be a jerk, but when someone is here I more times than not feel like I have to entertain them even though they tell me I don't have to. I can't help it, it's ingrained to not cry like a baby for no reason in front of people. My life is not set up where I can just go take a nap when I want to (believe me, I'd never leave my bed if that was the case). I have two kids here to take care of, I have two kids in school. My house is a mess, it's not anywhere near what I would consider clean though you'd think otherwise. Just today I mopped my floors and it was the first time since a week before Christmas.
That's totally gross but honestly, it's the best I can do right now.
So it's not that I'm ignoring help, I have a small core of friends who if I text that I need something, I know they'll pull through. I know that if I need them, they'll be here as soon as humanly possible. I have my mom here every day helping me with the little girls and she is a saint. It's not so much that I can't handle it without her, but I can't handle it without her. Having her here is like a calming presence and I know that if I say I just need five minutes, she'll take over and never make me feel like I'm doing a terrible job. I'm trying really hard to pull it together for the sake of my kids because they deserve that. It's been a really hard five months on them, too and I sometimes forget that.
So thank you. Seriously. For everyone who has emailed, texted, called, messaged, or commented- thank you. I'm going to be OK. I won't just disappear off the planet on you. I'm far too organized for that, right?
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Assisted suicide? I'm OK with it.
I'm sure by now most of you, if not all of you, have heard about 29 year old Brittany Maynard's plan to die peacefully in her home, surrounded by family, on November 1. (If not, you can go here to see a quick video that basically explains it.) I had shared an article about this a week or so ago on my own Facebook page once I had read about it because honestly, I think this is such a beautiful thing. What I didn't expect was how many people were blatantly against this.
I'm a pretty level headed person, and I feel like I can weigh things impartially when I need to. But for me, I don't understand the argument against assisted suicide at all.
In a lot of cases like Brittany, when a person is diagnosed with a terminal illness, the person diagnosed (as well as friends and family) start going through the different stages of grief. It's reasonable to be scared, angry, depressed, defeated, all of these things and more. And for awhile some of that encourages you to fight back and refuse to just go quietly into the night.
And that is courageous.
What is equally courageous, is to know when to say enough is enough. To face death head on. A human body can only withstand so many treatments, so much abuse, so many chemicals being pumped into our system, and just feeling terrible day in and day out. It's not reasonable to want a person to just keep trying for the sake of trying. To me, the worst thing in the whole world would be to see someone you love so much and care so deeply for just wither away. To suffer until the end. Sure, you can give them pain relief, but what kind of quality of life do they have? That's not life. That's making a person hang on because we don't want to let go and say goodbye.
It's never easy to say goodbye. I don't know anyone who has said goodbye and felt like it was all OK. No way. You love that person, and you don't want them to leave early. You want to grow old with them and let them experience so much more in life. But that's not the cards on the table. The cards on the table is a death sentence. And instead of letting someone dictate how they want to go, we say no and make them suffer.
To me, that's selfish. It's really the ultimate selfish act, isn't it? To say you'd rather a person suffer and deteriorate until they are a shell of their former selves than say goodbye when you can still have a beautiful last memory with them, is selfish.
Then it got me to thinking about people who struggle with mental illness who often give in and commit suicide. Those are never happy stories, but sometimes I feel OK. I feel like, you know what- if life was that bad for them, if they are at peace now, then I'm at peace. I don't like that they are gone, I miss them a lot, and I wish I could have done more to help. But maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Maybe we should look at it like they are at peace, whatever held them back in life has set them free, and they aren't plagued by demons anymore. Mental illness doesn't go away. I suffer from depression and anxiety, and while I can't say I've ever seriously contemplated suicide, I can understand why a person would. And it isn't about any of the rest of us. We try to make it about us by talking them out of it, and telling them all of the great things in life, as if those things never crossed their mind. But maybe it did. Maybe with all of that good, it's not enough for them. I wouldn't want someone to suffer and struggle their entire lives just so I could have them here.
Again, that's totally selfish.
I think there is a real difference between people who do it as a cry for help and people who do it to get it done. Very different, and I think we can all reasonably separate them out. But maybe if people felt more support in life, during the great times and the darkest hours, humanity would all be a little better for it. Maybe if we didn't project our will and wishes onto others, and let them go out the way the want to go out, people wouldn't be so scared to die. And for those with a religious belief on suicide, who is to say God isn't telling them their purpose on Earth is done and it's OK to come home? We don't know that, that would be a very personal thing between that person and God, wouldn't it?
So the moral of the post is that I applaud you, Brittany. I applaud your husband, your family, your friends, and everyone backing you up. You deserve to not suffer, knowing full well what your future with your debilitating condition is going to be and knowing you fought the good fight. You deserve to have everything you want all the way to the end. To be able to really say goodbye to people in a meaningful way is the greatest gift you can give to everyone that will mourn your loss for years to come. And that right there? That's the most selfless thing anyone could ever do.
I'm a pretty level headed person, and I feel like I can weigh things impartially when I need to. But for me, I don't understand the argument against assisted suicide at all.
In a lot of cases like Brittany, when a person is diagnosed with a terminal illness, the person diagnosed (as well as friends and family) start going through the different stages of grief. It's reasonable to be scared, angry, depressed, defeated, all of these things and more. And for awhile some of that encourages you to fight back and refuse to just go quietly into the night.
And that is courageous.
What is equally courageous, is to know when to say enough is enough. To face death head on. A human body can only withstand so many treatments, so much abuse, so many chemicals being pumped into our system, and just feeling terrible day in and day out. It's not reasonable to want a person to just keep trying for the sake of trying. To me, the worst thing in the whole world would be to see someone you love so much and care so deeply for just wither away. To suffer until the end. Sure, you can give them pain relief, but what kind of quality of life do they have? That's not life. That's making a person hang on because we don't want to let go and say goodbye.
It's never easy to say goodbye. I don't know anyone who has said goodbye and felt like it was all OK. No way. You love that person, and you don't want them to leave early. You want to grow old with them and let them experience so much more in life. But that's not the cards on the table. The cards on the table is a death sentence. And instead of letting someone dictate how they want to go, we say no and make them suffer.
To me, that's selfish. It's really the ultimate selfish act, isn't it? To say you'd rather a person suffer and deteriorate until they are a shell of their former selves than say goodbye when you can still have a beautiful last memory with them, is selfish.
Then it got me to thinking about people who struggle with mental illness who often give in and commit suicide. Those are never happy stories, but sometimes I feel OK. I feel like, you know what- if life was that bad for them, if they are at peace now, then I'm at peace. I don't like that they are gone, I miss them a lot, and I wish I could have done more to help. But maybe it wouldn't have mattered. Maybe we should look at it like they are at peace, whatever held them back in life has set them free, and they aren't plagued by demons anymore. Mental illness doesn't go away. I suffer from depression and anxiety, and while I can't say I've ever seriously contemplated suicide, I can understand why a person would. And it isn't about any of the rest of us. We try to make it about us by talking them out of it, and telling them all of the great things in life, as if those things never crossed their mind. But maybe it did. Maybe with all of that good, it's not enough for them. I wouldn't want someone to suffer and struggle their entire lives just so I could have them here.
Again, that's totally selfish.
I think there is a real difference between people who do it as a cry for help and people who do it to get it done. Very different, and I think we can all reasonably separate them out. But maybe if people felt more support in life, during the great times and the darkest hours, humanity would all be a little better for it. Maybe if we didn't project our will and wishes onto others, and let them go out the way the want to go out, people wouldn't be so scared to die. And for those with a religious belief on suicide, who is to say God isn't telling them their purpose on Earth is done and it's OK to come home? We don't know that, that would be a very personal thing between that person and God, wouldn't it?
So the moral of the post is that I applaud you, Brittany. I applaud your husband, your family, your friends, and everyone backing you up. You deserve to not suffer, knowing full well what your future with your debilitating condition is going to be and knowing you fought the good fight. You deserve to have everything you want all the way to the end. To be able to really say goodbye to people in a meaningful way is the greatest gift you can give to everyone that will mourn your loss for years to come. And that right there? That's the most selfless thing anyone could ever do.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Th1rteen R3asons Why
I'm going to break my rule of doing two book reviews in one night because this one? Is a must read. I don't care if you never read another book again, read this one. I don't care if you don't like to read at all, read this one. If you have a child, you need to read this book. If you have been touched by the loss of someone who has committed suicide, you need to read this book. If you have treated someone badly, not apologized for something you thought maybe you should have handled differently, or you think your actions (however meaningless to you) don't effect others, you need to read this book. I am not kidding when I tell you this will change your perspective in life.
Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher
When Clay Jenson plays the cassette tapes he received in a mysterious package, he's surprised to hear the voice of dead classmate Hannah Baker. He's one of 13 people who receive Hannah's story, which details the circumstances that led to her suicide. Clay spends the rest of the day and long into the night listening to Hannah's voice and going to the locations she wants him to visit. The text alternates, sometimes quickly, between Hannah's voice (italicized) and Clay's thoughts as he listens to her words, which illuminate betrayals and secrets that demonstrate the consequences of even small actions. Hannah, herself, is not free from guilt, her own inaction having played a part in an accidental auto death and a rape. The message about how we treat one another, although sometimes heavy, makes for compelling reading. Give this to fans of Gail Giles psychological thrillers.
I don't want to give away all of the reasons why this book has made such an impact in my life but I will tell you that since finishing it about a week ago I have not been able to stop thinking about it. As the above paragraph says, this book is basically the self given eulogy of a teenage girl who commits suicide. The thirteen people who receive these tapes all played a part in her ultimate decision to end her life. She not only talks about her own experiences and failures, but she talks about how others failed her.
The sad and very tragic reality is that there are so many kids going through the exact same things. What starts off as her first kiss which then snowballs into the boy saying they did much more and you know how that ball will roll, you see the actions of other students and how she internalizes them. You can read this book and put these character's names and faces to real people you know with no trouble at all and maybe that's what is so disturbing.
But what I really appreciated about this book is that not only does it talk about the students (and in one instance, staff) who did terrible things to this poor girl for the sake of being cruel for fun, but I think it highlights an even larger problem that "society" overlooks- the bystanders. Especially in the news as of late we are hearing of bullying at its worst and while it's easy to target a bully and say- he's a bad kid or target a victim and say- you shouldn't be like that and you won't get picked on, what about the kids who just stand there and watch it happen? I can't remember what show it was on but a commentator mentioned that when people, but mostly parents, say, "What is wrong with society?" in relation to bullying- you should be looking at your own kid. Maybe you're lucky and your kid isn't being picked on or isn't the bully- but they probably know someone in either or both roles and yet they do nothing to stop it. What's wrong with them?
We are living in a generation that has the potential to do such extraordinary things that others will study in history books in the future but we won't get there when you have people treating each other like they do. There is really something wrong when two people can't get married when they are in love based on their genders being the same. The sheer ridiculousness of that astounds me. The fact that people feel like they should be able to control that kind of thing boggles my mind. The fact that you have kids bullying kids based on their economic standing in the community. Really- the kid dresses badly because he's poor not because he has nothing worthwhile to offer someone. Yet we teach our children that these kinds of biases are OK.
Something else that just pulled at my heart as a parent is how Hannah talks about how her parents had no clue that she was feeling this way because they were dealing with their own financial crisis and stress. How many of us stay up at night worrying about our bills, how we'll make ends meet, things that are coming up, etc? Of those people, how many of you have really been able to sit down with your kid and talk to them about their life. Can anyone really say who their child's friends are, who they don't get along with, why, who they sit with at lunch, what their insecurities are, etc? Very few. I would bet my next paycheck that very few of you can really do that with your child. In the book Hannah talks about one of her classes had bags with student's names on them and fellow students can put positive comments in them anonymously and how she looked forward to them. Those end up being her last lifeline to feeling good about herself but then another student ruins even that for her.
This book challenges you and how you deal with others. You might think the revengeful or "I'll teach her" moment is not a big deal, but you don't know how many more of those are happening to a person at that same time. It might be your one act that tips them over the edge. It makes you ask yourself is it worth it? Is it worth ignoring a friend over a miscommunication? Over something you could be completely wrong about because you made an assumption and never asked for yourself.
I think this book should absolutely be required reading for parents, for teenagers, for teachers, for those who help any of these people day to day. It is so tragic and your heart will break because you know you know someone like this.
Th1rteen R3asons Why by Jay Asher
When Clay Jenson plays the cassette tapes he received in a mysterious package, he's surprised to hear the voice of dead classmate Hannah Baker. He's one of 13 people who receive Hannah's story, which details the circumstances that led to her suicide. Clay spends the rest of the day and long into the night listening to Hannah's voice and going to the locations she wants him to visit. The text alternates, sometimes quickly, between Hannah's voice (italicized) and Clay's thoughts as he listens to her words, which illuminate betrayals and secrets that demonstrate the consequences of even small actions. Hannah, herself, is not free from guilt, her own inaction having played a part in an accidental auto death and a rape. The message about how we treat one another, although sometimes heavy, makes for compelling reading. Give this to fans of Gail Giles psychological thrillers.
I don't want to give away all of the reasons why this book has made such an impact in my life but I will tell you that since finishing it about a week ago I have not been able to stop thinking about it. As the above paragraph says, this book is basically the self given eulogy of a teenage girl who commits suicide. The thirteen people who receive these tapes all played a part in her ultimate decision to end her life. She not only talks about her own experiences and failures, but she talks about how others failed her.
The sad and very tragic reality is that there are so many kids going through the exact same things. What starts off as her first kiss which then snowballs into the boy saying they did much more and you know how that ball will roll, you see the actions of other students and how she internalizes them. You can read this book and put these character's names and faces to real people you know with no trouble at all and maybe that's what is so disturbing.
But what I really appreciated about this book is that not only does it talk about the students (and in one instance, staff) who did terrible things to this poor girl for the sake of being cruel for fun, but I think it highlights an even larger problem that "society" overlooks- the bystanders. Especially in the news as of late we are hearing of bullying at its worst and while it's easy to target a bully and say- he's a bad kid or target a victim and say- you shouldn't be like that and you won't get picked on, what about the kids who just stand there and watch it happen? I can't remember what show it was on but a commentator mentioned that when people, but mostly parents, say, "What is wrong with society?" in relation to bullying- you should be looking at your own kid. Maybe you're lucky and your kid isn't being picked on or isn't the bully- but they probably know someone in either or both roles and yet they do nothing to stop it. What's wrong with them?
We are living in a generation that has the potential to do such extraordinary things that others will study in history books in the future but we won't get there when you have people treating each other like they do. There is really something wrong when two people can't get married when they are in love based on their genders being the same. The sheer ridiculousness of that astounds me. The fact that people feel like they should be able to control that kind of thing boggles my mind. The fact that you have kids bullying kids based on their economic standing in the community. Really- the kid dresses badly because he's poor not because he has nothing worthwhile to offer someone. Yet we teach our children that these kinds of biases are OK.
Something else that just pulled at my heart as a parent is how Hannah talks about how her parents had no clue that she was feeling this way because they were dealing with their own financial crisis and stress. How many of us stay up at night worrying about our bills, how we'll make ends meet, things that are coming up, etc? Of those people, how many of you have really been able to sit down with your kid and talk to them about their life. Can anyone really say who their child's friends are, who they don't get along with, why, who they sit with at lunch, what their insecurities are, etc? Very few. I would bet my next paycheck that very few of you can really do that with your child. In the book Hannah talks about one of her classes had bags with student's names on them and fellow students can put positive comments in them anonymously and how she looked forward to them. Those end up being her last lifeline to feeling good about herself but then another student ruins even that for her.
This book challenges you and how you deal with others. You might think the revengeful or "I'll teach her" moment is not a big deal, but you don't know how many more of those are happening to a person at that same time. It might be your one act that tips them over the edge. It makes you ask yourself is it worth it? Is it worth ignoring a friend over a miscommunication? Over something you could be completely wrong about because you made an assumption and never asked for yourself.
I think this book should absolutely be required reading for parents, for teenagers, for teachers, for those who help any of these people day to day. It is so tragic and your heart will break because you know you know someone like this.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
In Her Wake
I'm kind of on a memoir roll right now but that's OK because I enjoy memoirs.
In 1963, Nancy Rappaport’s mother died by suicide after a bitter public divorce and custody battle. Nancy was just four years old and the youngest of six children. Growing up in a blended family of eleven children after her father remarried, Nancy was bewildered about why her mother took her own life and left her behind.
Years later, encouraged by her own childrens’ curiosity about their grandmother, and fortified by her training as a child psychiatrist, Nancy began investigating her mother’s life and the mysteries surrounding her death.
Pursuing clues and following leads, Rappaport pieces together a complex mosaic of her mother. Drawing on court depositions, newspaper coverage, her mother’s unpublished novel, and interviews with family and friends, she uncovers the story of a conflicted and troubled activist, socialite, and community leader. She scrutinizes deep family secrets about a woman she only remembers in snapshots.
Rappaport intensely explores the impact of her mothers suicide from the perspective of a daughter, psychiatrist, wife, and mother of three – illuminating in the process the complicated nature of loss, reconciliation, and healing.
So I have to say once I started reading this book I was really worried it was going to be a story of "oh, my life is so awful because my mom isn't here and how will I ever cope" and it wasn't that... so I'm glad. It is a really well written account of the loss of a mother and a life long grief during poignant moments in your life when all you really want is your mom. As a son I don't know that losing a mom at such a young age would be life altering but for a daughter it would be. Certainly growing up the value of having a mother to answer your questions or to explain what your period is and what exactly to do with a tampon is pretty important. So what do you do if you don't have that? I often think women without mothers, or mothers who weren't really mothers anyways, are probably the best in womanhood because they have to do it on their own. They have to learn how to be a lady, run a household, be a partner and raise children on her own. She has no help or guidance, no role model. I know for myself it would be difficult- I lean on my own mother a lot when I encounter something I don't know.
The interesting twist to this book is that Nancy is a child psychiatrist so in writing her story and that of her mothers, she offers insightful information about suicide in general. One of the lines that stuck with me is on page 216:
"But I wonder if surviving my mother's suicide brings with it a certain knowledge that there are limits to keeping people alive if they are determined to kill themselves."
The only part of books that discuss this side of suicide that bother me is that I often feel the survivors are kind of selfish. It's not selfish to mourn the loss of a person who may or may not have had a lot more life to live, that we'd never know. But it is selfish to look only at what you've now loss and compare it to being worse than how the person was feeling before they decided suicide was their only option. And sometimes I think that when you're ready to go you should be able to go. A person only has so much fight in them for life and when you exhaust that, you have nothing to keep you going. It's like a car- once you run out of gas, you're going nowhere. It doesn't matter how big the crowd around you is cheering you on, that car isn't moving without more gas. All the love and cheering in the world doesn't put gas into that car, the driver has to actually make an effort to get the gas. And some people just can't do it anymore. And I respect that. When someone commits suicide I don't grieve their death, I grieve for the loss the survivors feel. That person clearly was at ease with their death and was ready to go, but that doesn't mean others are ready for it.
So over all, I really enjoyed this book. It was an interesting insight to a family, Nancy expertly weaves her thoughts and reflections as an adult to childhood memories into a touching story of her mother's suicide. Also interesting is she included a "Further Reading" section that sounds like it's similar stories or good resources if you've survived a suicide or just the general loss of a significant person in your life.
I highly encourage you to look at the other tour stops (here) to see what other readers are saying, as well as Nancy's website (here).
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