Passive Suicide

I'm not really the suicide type. It's not my style, dig? I'm more the "I-shall-overcome-so-help-me-God" type. In fact, I find that I often become aggressive with my own grief. I take it all head on, because in a lot of ways there's only two directions: down or through; and if I'm going through, I'm going through, you know? Screw you Grief, you faceless, silent son-of-a-bitch. I'm better than that; CJ made me stronger than that. My soul is not yours to claim, you heartless prick. You ain't seen nothing until you've met a girl with nothing left to lose and a bone to pick with Chance. I'd rather roll forward in fury than languish in despair - it strikes me as so much more proactive. Sadly, I've found no direction in which to focus my anger except the elusive emotions that haunt my days: grief, despair, depression, apathy. I'd rather pick a fight with my own loss than let the pain it inflicts end me. As such, I'm not likely to prematurely end my life. However I do think that I, like many other bereaved people, suffer from passive suicide contemplation. To put it bluntly, I'm never going to kill myself, but if I was diagnosed with cancer tomorrow I'd probably be thrilled to death (no pun intended). Tamsen, you've just been diagnosed with terminal melanoma; you only have two months to live! What are you going to do now? I'm going to Disneyland, yay! Hell, I think I'd probably even throw myself a going-away party. I have also been riding around without my seatbelt on... you know... just in case.

Essentially, there comes a point when those in mourning realize that they are no longer living out of their own desire to exist. Rather, you're living for everyone else's benefit. There are days when the only reason you get up in the morning is because all the other personal relations you've forged on this tiny speck of rock have instilled you with a secondary sense of concern and obligation. You've got children counting on you to see them through this. You've got parents, siblings, friends all mourning the loss as well and you just can't bring yourself to do it to them again. They may even mention it - "please, don't you leave me too." You know in your heart of hearts that to leave them alone to deal with the current loss as well as heaping on the guilt they would suffer if you offed yourself is something that is far too cruel to even contemplate. And I hate to break it to you folks, but on the darkest, most painful nights on this guided tour through hell, it's really hard to convince yourself that sparing other people pain is a compelling reason not to end your own. There's a little voice in the back of your mind whispering dangerous promises to ease your sense of obligation in the dark reaches of the night... Don't worry about them... isn't this pain too large to allow your heart concern for others? Besides, they'll be fine! The loss of your life couldn't possibly be worse than the loss of his...

Which leads me to wonder, what does keep us going? In the middle of the night when it's only you and the aching sense of alone that's become your personal valet, while you lie awake staring at the ceiling, stewing in your own thoughts... When the realization comes that there is no longer a personal motivation to keep up this charade known as life, why do we? A friend of mine opined that most people don't follow through on suicidal thoughts because of fear. They're afraid of the pain of suicide perhaps... because - really- there isn't a nice way to go. Pills have a high failure rating, and usually induce vomiting at some point. Shooting yourself takes a hell of a leap of courage and is pretty much impossible if you live in California. Standing in front of a train, jumping off a bridge, yelling racial epitats in Compton... all likely to work, but again you'd probably need to be high on E to have the gumption for the follow through. Other people have a fear of suicide for more esoteric reasons. Many religions tell us that to kill oneself is to destroy God's creation and is thus just as damning as murder. Many of us don't want to risk the possibility that we would be denied the chance to see our loved one again, post mortem. We're already in hell, so I'm not sure that's such a great deterrent, but the idea of not getting to see them again is sufficient for most people to tough it out.

However, I don't personally like to think that I'm making decisions (especially life and death ones) from a position of fear. As such, I need a more compelling reason than "being afraid" to say why most people don't commit suicide. I believe the real reason is hope. No matter how far gone you get, there's another little whispering voice struggling to be heard in the background of our grief. This quiet little voice is the one that says things will be better tomorrow. That this pain can't be this strong forever, that we can wait it out. It promises that there will come a day when our memories no longer bring us to our knees in grief. It's that sense of hope that carries us through. Every once in awhile, you have a good day. A day when the future doesn't quite seem like the bleak wasteland it was yesterday. The days when the warm summer sun breaks through the clouds and for just one moment, you're not sorry you're still alive. The moments when the love you feel for your husband or wife or child or parent or friend is reminiscent of the pure joy it used to be, untainted by the pain caused by their lack of physical existence (in other words the idea and memory of them brings you happiness, despite the lack of their physical presence). The good moments, few or short as they may sometimes seem, are the precious gifts that give us enough hope to batten down the hatches and weather the storm, rather than going out to sacrifice ourselves to the fury of the tempest.

This song came on as I was writing this, and seemed apropos.

All day, staring at the ceiling
Making friends with shadows on my wall.
All night, hearing voices telling me
That I should get some sleep,
Because tomorrow might be good for something

Hold on - feeling like I'm headed for a break down
And I don't know why
But i'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell,
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A diffent side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know that right now you don't care
But soon enough you're going to think of me
and how I used to be

Talking to myself in public,
Dodging glances on the train.
And I know, I know they've all been talkin' bout me
I can hear them whisper
And it makes me think there must be something wrong with me
Out of all the hours thinking somehow I've lost my mind.

Hold on - feeling like I'm headed for a break down
And I don't know why
But i'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell,
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A diffent side of me
I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired
I know right now you don't care
But soon enough you're going to think of me
and how I used to be

How I used to be
How I used to be
Yeah, I'm just a little unwell
How I used to be

I hope, dear friends in mourning, that you hang on to that hope and find your way through darkness back into the light of day.

Tamsen