To You, Contemplating Suicide

Yesterday someone unknown to me left a comment on this blog stating that she has "sort of, not really" thought about suicide.

That comment took my breath away. I started this little blog, knowing that a few, but only a few, people would read it, as a way of expressing something of the surface level of what I feel and experience and observe and wonder about as I try to survive the loss of my son. I had not thought about reaching out to anyone else ~ most days I feel as if I can barely reach for my toothbrush ~ or about my words having meaning to others inhabiting the same desert. For sure I had not thought about extending a hand to someone walking an even bleaker desert, the one where the sand is black and where no stars light the sky.

I am not a professionally trained counselor and so, although I have read reams of material on depression and on the thought processes that seem to lead to suicide, I have no idea and would not speculate on how that information affects someone who has taken any steps along that path. I can say three things, though, with some assurance:

If you have contemplated, or are contemplating, your own destruction, please seek help ~ no matter how exhausting or overwhelming or futile that effort seems. An act of suicide itself may be the immediate consequence of a lightning-quick decision, but a long and tortuous road has probably paved the way. A detour, even into a swamp, would be a very good thing.

I read this week that at least 50 people are profoundly affected by every suicidal death. The heartbreaking irony is that so many people who die by suicide think that their deaths will have little impact on those who know and love them, or even that few such people exist, when in fact the reverberations will be felt throughout the community that is theirs, probably for generations. And those reverberations will feel about as awful as anything possibly can feel.

And, finally: You are someone holy and precious. You are someone with gifts to share, in relationship with others and through the work that you have to give the world. You are someone whose very presence lights up a small patch of this earth. You are someone who should be able someday to look back on a long life and say, "Yes, I have experienced almost intolerable pain, but I have also seen great beauty and given something of worth." You are truly, in the most minute parts of your body and the smallest currents of your soul, an intricate creation and an exquisite treasure of your Creator ~ not someone to be carelessly discarded ~ but someone to be nurtured with gentleness and care.