My mind rolls back and forth over my life, almost like sucking at a sore tooth. Something nags at me. I compare the happiness I feel today with the unhappiness that preceded it. Ten years of unhappiness followed by ten more years of suicidal unhappiness. That is behind me now, but I never know if it is permanently gone. I remember the depth of agitation; every nerve of my mind in agony, an agony that made each second stretch into the next as long and painful as possible. I don’t think anyone ever wants to commit suicide, but rather than live in this pain, this ongoing pain, suicide begins to beckon. Death takes on a friendly and comforting face.
During those years, innumerable persons patted my hand and said various things within a single significance. “Don’t do it, Think of those you will leave behind, Don’t be selfish, and my personal favorite – Someday this will all be over and you will look back and be glad you stuck it out.” So many voices in union over something I don’t think they had even a glimmer of. And the truth is, that I am glad to be alive today. And simultaneously the truth is that when I was in that moment, that never-ending moment of static pain, I thought that if only one person really loved me, they would let me go. And I promised myself that if anyone ever cried out to me in this raw pain, I wouldn’t mouth those empty platitudes. I said I would understand that if they said they couldn’t stand this, not one single minute more, I would accept that.
That moment is now. My very dear friend writhes with this pain. Not that she wants to die but that living has become too hard, has been too hard for a long time now. Her words and anguish pour out the phone into my ear and I have no magic words. I listen mutely, and feel as I did as a little girl watching my father carefully thread a worm onto a hook. Firmly gripping the flacid worm, he punctured its flesh with a hook that sparkled in the sunlight. The worm, previously making soft movements began to coil and flail, twist and writhe. When I gasped, my father said not to worry, “they don’t feel pain like we do.”
Tati said,
March 17, 2010 at 7:38 pm
I love your last line! This obviously hits a chord with me. I am one of the few people who can say I know what you mean with complete honesty. I am also one of the few people who will agree with this completely. Part of the process is talking it out with someone but no one wants to hear “It will all be ok” “You’ll feel better soon” “oh no, you don’t want to do that” etc… Because you don’t know that it will all be over soon. Feel better, like it’s the flu… And YES I DO want to do that. I don’t think that she really WIll do it, just that she wishes she could. And the best thing you can do is listen. Keep on being the one person who listens and doesn’t try to placate her with happy sounding falsities that aren’t really meant. You are one person who really understands what is happening. You alone, out of all that were close to her, are left. And you are the most compelling proof that it might all work out someday. And all she really needs now is someone to listen, really listen, and understand. So hold her hand across the distance and tell her that you know just what it feels like.