Tuesday, August 16, 2016
I recently had a conversation with an acquaintance. Who proceeded to tell me about her boyfriend having committed suicide several years ago and I am beyond comprehension, my heart aches for her and his family. This was a topic I would touch gently, but not too deeply. I would set the parameters.
To love someone so much…..and it is not enough to help or try to “save” them: to guide and support them. It doesn’t matter how much you cry, pound your fist, deny, threathen, bargain, love, pray…… Nothing seems to work. To cry till there are no tears left. Have you ever cried so much you feel your head will explode.
She shared with me that he had been to rehab. for pain medication and alcohol abuse. He became violet at times, but was unaware.
“I don’t know what happens,” “It’s like a dark cloud that’s coming. There’s pure evil going on in my head. I have to take a drink or a pill to stop it.'”
I think of this life filled with turmoil; and their loved ones; left behind, searching for answers in a zombie state of, “how could you do this,” and forever the “why, why, why.”
For them to be so riddled with pain that they feel there only answer is to do away with themselves.
More than anything, I believe people who commit suicide feel hopeless. They are hurting so badly and want the pain to end, but they can’t imagine it ever going away. They can’t see the light at the end of a very dark, lonely tunnel.
A permanent solution to a temporary problem. Irrational thinking caused by depression.
This is what the Bible says:
2 Corinthians 4:16
New Living Translation
“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed day by day.”
I know, because it has taken me a very long time to recognize and admit that my own brother, Mike committed suicide at 21 years old.
Perhaps one day I will have the strength to put words to this gut-wrenching pain.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Today as I pulled off the feeder road to find a quiet safe spot to make a call. I turned into a subdivision, just needing someplace to return a call. It kept drawing me in with its beautifully manicured landscape and serene tranquil atmosphere. I drove in further than I wanted to, but once in, I couldn’t find a place to turn around, as if I was trapped in a “gated utopia.” I soon realized I was in an assisted living subdivision with small charming cottages.
My Mama immediately entered my mind, since she had lived in a similar place. As we carried on a conversation. I heard her say, “it’s pretty here Mija,” and I responded, ” it’s very nice Mama, you would like it here.”