A Glimmer of Understanding

A friend reached out after reading my post where I asked how my brother could not see all those around him who would have done anything to help him. I struggle with that a lot--not being able to step into his shoes to know what he must have been going through. Reading her illustration of the experience of depression, I think I can grasp just a glimmer of understanding. Thank you for sharing this with me.

I’m on a sailboat, all alone, in the middle of the ocean. And I don’t know how to sail. I drift.

Sometimes the seas are calm, and I go about my days doing the things I need to. I might even see another sailboat nearby, and if the person on that boat sails over to me, I don’t have to be alone. (Remember, I don’t know how to sail, so I can’t sail to the other person’s boat.)

Sometimes when the seas are calm, I even think that I can sail. It doesn’t end well.

And when the seas are rough, it takes all I have not to fall overboard, not to be completely debilitated by seasickness. It would take an expert sailor to reach me. And it wouldn’t matter. The seas would still be rough.

Sometimes, it would be easier to drown.

Justifiable Suicide?

I read an article in the NYTimes about suicide and suicide attempts by women in Afghanistan. By fire.

Cooking oil and matches are readily available. Girls are all but sold to much older husbands who rape them, beat them, and shame them. Their families--if they are still allowed to see them--can offer no protection. These women and girls have nowhere to turn. So they choose suicide by fire.

One woman's husband taunted her that she did not have the strength to burn herself. Unfortunately, she did.

I don't know that suicide is ever justifiable or warranted, but I think I can understand, maybe a little, what would make one of these woman choose such an escape.

What depth of pain must my brother have been in? He had a family that loved him, friends who cared about him, and so many people who would have moved heaven and earth to help him. How could he have seen suicide as the only way out?

Walking in My Brother's Honor

This past Saturday, AK and I participated in the Out of the Darkness Community Walk to benefit the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. We joined about 400 others who were walking in memory of a loved one lost to suicide. With the support of so many friends, AK and I hit our fundraising goal of $2,500--in less than 2 weeks.

The walk wasn't as monumental as I thought it might be. I spent a good portion of the time being angry and upset that I was even participating in the walk, and that so many people have been affected by suicide. They gave out colored necklaces--honor beads--to symbolize the loved one lost to suicide. Orange for siblings, gold for parents, white for children, red for spouses, purple for friends. It was heartbreaking to see so many people wearing multiple beads.

They had run out of purple beads before we even got there.

Someone Who Can Relate

Although my friends and community have been incredibly supportive, pretty much nobody really knows what I'm going through. Don't get me wrong, I never want anyone to be in a place to understand, but at the same time, it's hard that people can't say more than "Wow, I'm so sorry, I have no idea what you are going through."

I started going to a suicide support group. I don't think I knew how much I needed to talk to someone who could say "Wow, I've been there, I'm so sorry."

My first group, I met a woman who was attending her last. She lost a son to suicide 3 years ago. As she left, she offered some words of wisdom: One day--maybe near, maybe far from now--we'll learn to be happy again. It won't be the same happy as it was before, but it will return. And although the pain never fully goes away, life can be sweet again.

I hope to be her one day.

Stolen Moments

This past weekend, I attended the wedding of one of my best friends from college. The bride, who has also become a good friend, lost her mother a number of years ago.

During the wedding ceremony, the rabbi mentioned her mother, and how he knows she is looking down and celebrating with her daughter even though she isn't  physically there.

It didn't make me very upset at the time, but thinking about it later, it set me off on a crying jag.

There are so many future moments in life in which I had envisioned my brother as an integral part. But he won't walk down the aisle at my wedding. And although I know he'll be there with me in spirit, it's just one of a million moments that have been stolen from me.

Bad, Bad Dreams

I don't usually dream, or at least I seldom remember any dreams if I have them; even when I do remember, I'm not usually one for bad dreams, although I have the occasional nightmare.

Lately, I've been having a lot of really bad dreams, most of which involve losing someone I love in one way or another.

Ever since I lost my brother, I carry around an intense fear of losing someone else I love. I worry about it a lot, and I suppose that's carried over into my subconscious. I can't decide which is better--not being able to sleep, or having fitful and restless sleep full of nightmares.

Kind of damned if I do, and damned if I don't. I wish this was getting easier and not harder.

We Should Think Before We Speak

Since my brother's death, I have become significantly more attuned to the way I, and others, speak.

For example, have you ever thought about the number of times we reference death and suicide on any given day?

"Man, that test was a killer."
"Working with her makes me want to kill myself."
"Another assignment? Just kill me now..."
"This project is going to kill me."

I cringe a little every time someone uses a turn of phrase like the ones I listed above. I wonder why we use death and suicide to describe so many things. It's not that I haven't used them in the past, but I'm very careful about my choice of words these days.

How desensitized have we become to the power of our words that we can talk about death and suicide in such a nonchalant manner?