Another good human being lost to the plague of sadness.
Words fail me to describe the feeling. I found out on Sunday that a friend my husband went to guitar building school with hung himself. I am deeply saddened by this. But it’s much more complex than that. I have so many thoughts rolling around my head about this. I don’t know where to start.
He was only 21.
He had an old blog from high school filled with poetry and dark, dark words. His band and his blog were named [edited to protect his privacy] a Latin phrase that means “dead inside” or “death within.” His poetry cried for death, obsessing over suicide, and he often spoke of his struggle with depression.
The words were eerily similar to my own. His obsession with suicide sounded so familiar. And this worries me. I can’t help but worry that this, too, will someday be my fate. That one day, I will no longer be able to bear the mental anguish of life with depression.
It worries my husband, too. Ever since we heard, he’s been saying to me over and over again “You’ll talk to me before you attempt anything like that, right?” And I promise over and over to him that I would.
This brings me to my main issue with suicide. I have longed for death throughout many bouts of depression in my life, but the one thing that has always kept me from actively pursuing it (except that one feeble attempt in high school), is the people I love.
I hate the thought of a person I love coming home from a normal day to find me in the ugliness of death by my own hand. A lifeless mess. And then they have to alert the local authorities. And then they have to make phone call after dreaded phone call to tell all my friends and family. And then they have to live with a sense of guilt that if they just would have done something different this never would have happened. I just don’t think I could do that to the people I love.
What scares me is, the longer I live with this depression, the harder it is to resist the urge. In fact, that is the SOLE REASON I decided to go back on medication. Because the suicidal thoughts were plaguing me more than ever. And I started to fear for my life.
Oh, I do not want this to be my fate. And I make this promise to everyone I love. If I feel consumed by my desire to die, I promise I will get help if I can’t resist the urge.
I still believe it is everyone’s personal choice and right to take their own life. But I love my family too much, and as I’ve said before, I haven’t tried everything in my power to defeat this depression. So I guess you could say, there is still hope.
To Robbie, a talented guitarist and revolutionary whose intelligence gave me hope for the next generation. I hope you have finally found peace.