Yesterday I read some jerkwad’s *coughmattwalshcough* opinion on suicide after the media frenzy of Robin William’s death. (I started this post last week, but haven’t had the strength to finish it until today.)
To say I felt he completely missed the nail is putting it lightly. He wasn’t even hammering in the same room as that nail.
I feel like I have something to offer on this subject and I want to share it. Normally I don’t want to share the deepest darkest parts of me, but I have been rolling the whole subject over and over in my mind since the news broke and I just can’t stay quiet. I have been appalled by some of the things I have read concerning suicide and his suicide in particular.
I have been depressed before – clinically and situationally depressed. I have been depressed to the point that I have lost jobs, only left my apartment to get some soda and cigarettes, stopped talking to friends and family, and self medicated – heavily. In those times I have often thought that perhaps the world would be better without me. I have thought that I was no good and nothing good could come from me and I would never ever get better. I have toyed with the idea of killing myself. I still struggle sometimes with depression.
But twice, twice I was truly suicidal. Twice it was only because something interrupted me that I am still alive today. Twice I had a plan and a time and day and I was ready to go through with it. That’s the difference between being depressed and having suicidal thoughts and being truly suicidal. The plan, the preparation, the time and place and day. That is what it means to be really suicidal. One of those times I was hospitalized for about a week. Obviously I am happy I was interrupted and happy I had the chance to get past those times in my life, as hard as it was.
Matt Walsh (I won’t link to his article because I don’t want to increase his traffic, but all you have to do is google “Matt Walsh blogger” and you will find him and his article) states:
“I can’t comprehend it. The complete, total, absolute rejection of life. The final refusal to see the worth in anything, or the beauty, or the reason, or the point, or the hope. The willingness to saddle your family with the pain and misery and anger that will now plague them for the rest of their lives.”
From this one comment I can see he has never been suicidal in his life. He has no idea what it’s like. Being that depressed and that suicidal is not a refusal to find beauty. It’s not a turning of the head away from anything good. It’s a feeling that there will never be anything good again for you. Not that you can’t see what you once did, but that you can no longer enjoy it. Not that there will never be happy times again, but that you can’t find a way to get to that point. You can’t find a bridge to take you from the worst emotional pain you can imagine to a place where you are happy again at least most of the time. And the family part – yes, most of us think of our family. We try to make it easier on them. We hang on as long as we do because of their love. We don’t want to hurt them, but our pain is so great that we can’t hold on any longer, not even for them. Depression lies. Sometimes it tells you your family would be better off without you anyway. It lies and it’s lies are mean.
Mr Walsh also indicates that happiness is a choice. That people who are depressed need to chose to be happy. While there ARE things that help many depressed people (therapy, medication, exercise, eating well, meditation, socializing, being outdoors, getting sunshine) there is no one choice you make to become depressed or *ping* undepressed. It’s not a conscious choice. I dare anyone out there to choose to change their body chemicals. Why isn’t he calling on diabetics to change their blood sugar and for thyroid patients to make their thyroid start functioning more correctly? It’s a chemical imbalance tied together with a whole lot of situational stuff that has kicked you until you are down. And kept kicking you. And most people don’t ask for help until they are truly down
There is another component in this particular case, though. Robin William’s wife issued a statement that he was in the early stages of Parkinson’s Disease. A horrible disease that takes away the control of your body. It attacks the nerves. People can live for decades slowly watching their body betray them more and more. When people learned this fact, the whole tone of the suicide changed. Suddenly the angry and mean comments were no longer being said.
I also know something about this side of the issue. My mother was diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s. A little more than 3 years later she killed herself. She told us from the start to expect that. She had seen other people decline with this same disease and she wasn’t going to allow herself to get past a certain point. She didn’t want to lose all she was and had been. But she was also depressed. From the moment she realized what was happening (in my opinion) it depressed her. While Alzheimer’s does that to many people – the chemicals in the brain being completely different can cause chemical depression – I feel it was also situational. She couldn’t stand her mind not working the way it used to and she didn’t want us to see her in a different light. She couldn’t take the land slide of changes in her life due to this disease.
She attempted once and then she succeeded a few months later. Everyone in my family has a different opinion on it. Some just feel like she died from Alzheimer’s – that the suicide wasn’t really her choice, that it was the disease that forced her hand so to speak. Some feel like she purposely planned it to happen just as she was really losing herself so that none of us would see her at the worst part of it. I fell like it was an act of love and kindness as well as the act of a diseased mind. She loved us too much to “become a burden” (though none of us saw her that way) and she wanted to spare us from taking care of her in that state. I also don’t believe she would have killed herself if she hadn’t been physically ill.
The interesting thing to me is that while many people see it as tragic, I haven’t met anyone who sees her death as wrong or selfish or hurtful like they do with a younger or physically healthier person who takes their own life. They understand it. They empathize with it.
Why is that empathy removed from so many people’s reactions when the reason is “just depression”? Why can’t people understand that depression is just as painful as other diseases?
I suppose my answer lies in the fact that people who can’t understand suicide have simply never been in the type of pain that severe depression brings.
When I was in high school a teacher of mine asked the class to raise our hands if we had been in physical pain before. Then he asked us to raise our hands if we had been in emotional pain before. Then he asked us which one we would choose if given the choice. Of the three people who had raised their hands for both, all of us said we would choose physical pain. Being 20+ years older now, I have had severe physical pain due to cancer and surgeries. Very severe pain. And I have experienced more emotional\psychological pain since then as well. I would still chose physical pain over psychological any day.
(I won’t even start with how the physical pain and psychological pain feed off each other.)
I suppose I am writing this post is to implore you. To ask you to please try to see suicide for what it is. To stop calling it selfish and hurtful and weak. To ask you to realize that it takes a lot of pain for someone to get to that point in their lives and that you may never realize just how much it takes, but that perhaps you can try to remember that your experience and someone else’s are completely different. I can’t truly know your pain and you can’t truly know mine. But we can BOTH be kind. We can both stop pointing fingers and saying that this or that is wrong for the other person. I think that the post I read made me so upset because instead of finding compassion and hoping to reach readers who need help and give them just a little, this person instead chose to blame and tell others that their pain isn’t real – it doesn’t count. That they can just suck it up, pull on the old bootstraps and fix themselves.
Please, instead, find it in your heart to open your arms and help others who are in pain. Listen for the people who need help. Show them compassion and love. And know that even if, in the end, they choose to leave you, like my mother did, that the compassion and love was not wasted. The kindnesses I showed her were not in vain. She felt them and they helped her at that time. Please know that the good doesn’t take away the bad and the bad doesn’t invalidate the good.*
“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand.” Henri Nouwen
Be the one who chooses to give love and share pain rather than telling other people what they need in these situations or that they are wrong.
*paraphrased based on a quote in Dr. Who