The allure of suicide

For those of you who haven't heard already, Robin Williams is dead. He has died from taking his own life. Social media is abuzz with polarized camps of calloused "suicide is selfish" and glorified "suicide is a tragedy". The answer is "yes". Suicide is a completely selfish tragedy.

It is important to acknowledge the struggle facing those who deal with depression. The pain and anguish they feel are very real, and very misunderstood by those who have never experienced it. It is a very luxurious place indeed to treat mental illness as some sort of choice, and if the individual only had enough [fill in the blank – faith, love, etc.] then they wouldn’t struggle as badly. If you don’t understand how it feels, consider yourself blessed, and don’t attribute it as some achievement of your own.  I am one of the not so lucky ones that gets to speak on the issue from the happy mountain of ignorance. So newsflash: you don’t have more faith than I do. You are not immune to this struggle because you read the Bible more, you pray more, or you have “let go and let God” better than I have.

I have glamorized death in my head since high school. I am not scared to die. I have always referred to it as an “upgrade”. Stay here and be sick all the time, feeling like a burden to my family, or go stand before my God and King, praising him in a land with no more pain and suffering? Ummm… yes please. And the way people talk about people who are gone, who wouldn’t want that?  You get your slate wiped clean, and all people do is talk about your good qualities and none of your bad, (because it is disrespectful to talk about the failings of the dead).  Suicide becomes a very attractive lie, and this is never more obvious than when a high profile someone commits suicide. It is all people to talk about. We hear about the person’s achievements, the ways they have contributed to society, the happiness they brought people, and how much they will be missed. What a beautiful, enticing, attractive lie indeed.

However, the truth of suicide is much uglier. People don’t want to talk about it because it seems disrespectful or they feel it heaps guilt on those who are struggling. Others are all too willing to talk about it because they have no idea what the yearning for death feels like.  I lie somewhere in the middle because I don’t speak out of my strength. I speak from my weakness, and with the knowledge that the truth has set me free on multiple occasions. The truth is this: Suicide is a selfish act. I’d never heard it described this way until an elder at our church’s father committed suicide and Matt Chandler called it what it was: selfish. It is substituting your pain, for the bottomless pain of the family and loved ones who are left behind to pick up the pieces, asking questions, and internalizing blame.  Despite what the media makes it look like, you are not a hero. You are not a martyr. You are not a poetic tragedy. You are someone who has decided that your own misery is more important than the misery of the countless people around you that you claim to love.  Suicide seems poetic until you consider that your main legacy might be people talking about how selfish you were. Wait… I thought they were supposed to talk about how awesome I was? The lie was exposed.

My friends and family are all too aware of my struggle, and the best thing they do is remind me on a regular basis the effects that my death would have on them. Some people say that it a form of guilt trip. Yeah, but It is the best kind of guilt trip possible. Would I be free of this crappy body? Yup. Could John have a wife that could give him a family? Tears well up in my eyes knowing the answer. Would he and my family be free of having to take care of me? They sure would. Would they be devastated beyond recovery? That’s what they tell me. Knowing the anguish I would put them through makes any heartache I am currently experience take a back seat. I choose to value their happiness above anything I am going through because I don’t want my legacy to them to be pain and anger. Because of this, I have no problem preaching the selfishness of suicide.

It is a complete understatement to say that suicide is a touchy subject. It is as much a “touchy subject” as a severed leg is a “flesh wound”.  I have been told that emphasizing the selfishness of suicide just heaps judgment on those already struggling, so I’m not sure how to go about it. I wish that we as a society magically knew how to speak about this issue in all it’s ugliness without ostracizing those who struggle. All I know is that I don’t want to contribute to the glorification of Robin Williams so that others who are in similar pain are encouraged to follow in his footsteps. Suicide becomes contagious. While you should not condemn his actions without acknowledging his pain, neither should you talk about his amazing contributions to the world without acknowledging the horrific legacy he has left behind. Who knows whose life your "guilt trip" is saving in the process? Love without truth is worthless. Truth without love is death. 

Feeling down.

There is something we learned about in my psychology classes back in college.  It's called "learned helplessness".  It is what keeps girls with their abusers, and sometimes kidnap victims with their kidnappers.  It is when you "learn" that you are powerless against something, and so the only power I guess you feel like you have at that point is to "choose" the thing you are powerless against.  I'm starting to wonder if I'm becoming that girl.  My captor is called "doing nothing" and I'm getting really, really good at it.  Probably too good.

I came to the horrifying realization the other day that there are certain mental things that I can't do right now, even if I try.  I'm not talking about being a rocket scientist.  I was just trying to work on some Physics for my math/physics teacher certification.  I started trying to work on it, and it was like the huge overload, and I had barely gotten started!  I've tried to read some of the science books that I've been looking forward to having time to read, and it is like this huge information vomit that I can't see through.  This is the kind of thing that I normally enjoy.  And I can't right now.  It is too overwhelming.  (Do you remember that "Twilight Zone" episode where there was the man that just wanted to read, that's all he ever wanted, and he was in some basement during the apocalypse, and when he came out, he was finally all alone and the only building that survived was the library?  He's elated feeling like he has gone to heaven.  And then he accidentally drops his glasses and steps on them so he can't see, and you leave the episode with him crying "noooooo!!!!!".  That's about right.  I've got all this time to do all these things that I've been wanting time to do, and now that I have the time, I don't have the energy or mental capacity to do them.) I started crying and asked John if he would still love me as much if I couldn't think very well anymore.  Of course he would.  I know that.  But I would feel left out of his world, that's for sure.  I'm already feeling left out. I keep reassuring myself that this "chemo brain" (that's what Dr. Le calls it) is temporary and I'll be me again in no time.  But how long?  A few weeks after chemo is finished?  A month?  A few months?!?!

There's something wrong with my blood clotting response right now.  I need to talk to Dr. Le about it because it's becoming a bit worrisome.  I've had a pretty constant bloody nose now for a few days.  John and I were up till after 3:30 the other night trying to get it to stop.  I woke up in a little puddle of blood today.  It is congealing, but not really clotting.  I won't gross you out with more details than that. There is something about getting used to bleeding that is in itself depressing.  Of course you have that lady in the Bible who bled for like 30 years, so I should really get over it. 

I guess I am just sorta depressed because I don't feel like myself anymore.  And I wonder, when I get the chance to go back being "myself", will I be someone different by then?  Someone less?

My friend Jenise recommended that I try some reading that was less brainy.  Not a bad idea.  Maybe it's time to read the Harry Potter books.  Lord knows I'd never do it if I didn't do it now.  If I can't handle those, then there REALLY isn't any hope for me:)

Not bouncing back

So, this is the first time that I have really, really not bounced back after chemo.  I'm doing what I normally do: taking my vitamins, getting lots of rest... But it is not working.  I don't know if my body is just getting weaker, or if it is this sorta cold thing that I maybe got from John.  It doesn't seem like a full blown cold.  It's just sorta a stuffy, sniffly ick that is hovering on the brink of actual illness.  Translation: I feel pretty crappy, but not crappy enough for my body to give me a break and just let me sleep it off.  I can't nap, and if I do, then I can't sleep at night (like last night).  And I can't do anything else, because I feel like I'm about to get really sick at any moment.  Is this normal?  Is this the normal progression from being on chemo?  I feel really lucky so far.  I haven't had a very bad time with it at all, so I guess it's high time I  started to plummet.  I'm just wondering if it is just going to keep going down from here on.  I supposed this is just fruitless speculation.  My body's going to do what it's going to do...  All things considered, I'm doing waaaaaay better than we had originally thought I would.

I have a friend of mine, Abby, taking me to a cancer support new members meeting tonight.  It is formally "Gilda's Club" (as in Gilda Radner) but is now called "Cancer Support  Centers of America" I think.  Apparently they are really good, and have a lot of great, free support services.  I guess if nothing else, I can ask people about what "normal" is.  Part of me feels that twinge of pride that says "I don't need any more "support".  I've got plenty of support!  "Support groups" are for for people who don't have any real friends, or family around".  My suspicion is that I will eat my words in the future.  We will see.  Sometimes you don't realize what you need enough to verbalize it.  I suppose it couldn't hurt.  After 2-3 people recommending I find one, (a support group), I suppose I'll give all the 3rd party observers a little credit for maybe seeing something in me that I don't.  Although, I suppose I am seeing it a bit right now.  I am pretty disheartened at how weak I feel.  I've been expecting it, but it is still a bit depressing actually feeling it.  I'll let you know how it goes.

On the pleasant side, after I get done with the meeting tonight, my upstairs neighbor (Tara) is cooking and we're going to have dinner together:)  John is finishing up with his last class of the semester, so he'll probably be up at TCC till midnight grading, and then he'll be done for the semester!  Lula is the greatest little cat ever.  God brought her at the exact perfect time.  Here she is, playing in a gift bag that we had already opened.  (It's the little things, am I right?!?!) The random "voice over" is John telling me about how some company is sending him ads for $1000 dollar watches, and we are laughing at how wrong, wrong, wrong they got their "target audience".  (ie: us)  It has nothing to do with Lula, but he didn't know I was filming, so it's on there:)

P.S. after viewing my video here, I am reminded to always shoot horizontally.  HORIZONTALLY moron!  Enjoy my tall skinny video!

P.P.S. Although, in my defense, I am posting a VIDEO!  I'm feeling pretty friggin' technologically saavy right now:)

Warning: super depressing post

Sorry this is depressing.  It is just how I feel today...

I feel lonely today.  Brutally, painfully lonely.  I feel like the shut in, who lives life peeking through cracked curtains in their living room, looking out onto the outside world.  Except for me, it's facebook.  I sit in my house, not really feeling confident enough to even drive, and just surf over everybody else's lives.  "Catching up" with them in a completely one sided way.  I make comments, and I chat with a few of them.  But it isn't the same.  Nope, I can't make your birthday party, or this or that event.  That's a chemo week.  I can feel myself starting to wallow.  It isn't pretty.  I just sat here and cried, for the first time since my diagnosis.  It actually felt pretty good.

I decided to call my mom.  I have been getting increasingly more and more depressed at the state of our apartment.  It is embarrassing.  When I was first diagnosed, my church offered to set up a care calendar with people who could come help with housework and food and stuff.  I felt at the time "It's a 700 square foot apartment.  I can't imagine it getting too out of control.  I'm sure I can handle it."  If you hear a smacking sound, that is just me, eating my words. 

Mom didn't even bat an eyelash.  She is going to come over as soon as she is done with her ride.  What did I ever do to deserve such an awesome family?  Thank you God.