June 7, 2010

  • My brother once said that things got better around at home when I left for college; there was less arguing. Which wouldn't surprise me. I'm driven by logic. My mother rarely uses logic. There was tension; there was clashing.

    So, as we were sitting at this party today, I found myself once again trying to push how far they were willing to actually think.

    I honestly don't remember how it started. But it wound up in me mentioning my major peeve: that the government actually treats suicide as a criminal offense. As I believe I said, "It's preposterous that I do not have control over the most – the most – personal thing in my possession; no one should have the right to say whether or not I wish to terminate my own life." My parents, of course, chose to differ.

    Of course, they both pointed out that a person who commits suicide isn't thinking about those around them, that they know, who will miss them (not always the case, but I got what they were getting at).

    Of course, that's not quite how they put it. I think it was, "It's a completely selfish act."

    So, I retorted instead of bothering to say it in a way that may logically convince them, "If those that know him or her can't bother to take a moment to consider what would drive him or her to take his or her own life, then it's them who are the selfish ones for putting their own feelings ahead of the suffering of him or her." Of course, I think this is a logical enough argument, but it doesn't suit in an emotional discussion.

    To which the other often-made argument was made – there's always another answer. You know, Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

    They told me the same thing in Health class Sophomore year of high school. For my response paper I wrote that such a mentality was insulting in its simplicity and solved nothing. Never a permanent problem? Talk about arrogance.

    In any case, their argument was that life is too precious. It's too great to just give up and that "those people" are clearly not in the right state of mind and just need to be held over until they get it. So often I want to actually believe that.

     

     

    So, I was kinda stuck. Haven gotten out my retort, how do I honestly make them understand this situation? See, I know I'm kind of being an asshole as I write this right now. Sarcastic and dismissive, I'll be surprised if you've tolerated my writing thus far.

    But I don't often claim to be right in things. I'll usually claim I might know better, but I almost always admit I could be wrong. My ideas now aren't what they were 2 years ago. I change, I get proven wrong. I value humility and try to live up to such an ideal.

    But when I think I'm right? I don't bother with being nice about it. Because my entire life is motivated by the treatment of others. And if you disrespect that – well, I don't respect you. And, of course, I tend to write about when I'm certain I'm right on xanga more than those moments where I think I'm wrong.

    See, I've been through too many suicide talks to particularly want to hear someone else lecture me on the subject. I've talked close friends up and down the depression situation and, well, there's something kind of sobering about being told that they've decided to swallow the pills anyway, despite everything you've tried saying for the past two hours. And there's something about not being able to do anything about it.

    But what's even more sobering is trying to come up with words to even mount an argument when she's just looking at the bruises up and down her arms.

    Or that dead feeling inside that just eats at you. See – it almost feels ridiculous saying it – I've got it lucky. Suicidal periodically throughout the year, anxiety that I can barely publicly control some days becoming more and more frequent, an inability to ever get enough sleep, and a diet that's been so badly thrown off that I don't want to eat half the time and the other half finds me hungry at the most inappropriate of times, and I've got it lucky.

    Because I am operational almost all the time. I still know what it's like to be happy a majority of the day and I actually haven't attempted suicide in 4 years or so, plus I've never actually done any serious attempt to boot.

     

     

    But I honestly don't think all of that really gets at how it feels to realize that you aren't really sure how to mount an argument for living for some people.

    So I found myself going back to something I had heard at a talk at college last year or so. The exact facts might be off but the general idea is what to take away.

    In 1950, upper class whites felt that there was equality amongst the races and that anyone could successfully move up or down economically if they wanted to.

    In 1950.

    Now, these probably weren't all KKK members. They were probably the average Joe or Jane, who didn't see the problems others were facing in their communities (even if those people, blacks, weren't in their communities to begin with) and, so, assumed, those problems must not exist. Same way people view equality today. It's the way privilege works.

    And it's how this works.

    Of course life is precious to you. And, for you Mom, there probably is another answer.

    But I can honestly say that I don't fear death these days anymore. I'm not bothered if I died tonight. Slightly saddened, maybe, but not bothered. It's, really, just another path to take.

    Because, while I'm not counting on committing suicide any day soon and would choose to live than otherwise, I'm not fully convinced that living is the smarter, more sane, or less painful choice.

    At the end of the day, my reasoning is that if the end will be waiting for me no matter what and it'll be the same no matter what, why not make the most of this? It's waiting for me. I'll get there. I've only got this life for so long.

    And that's good reasoning. But that doesn't make living better. It hinges on me not knowing which will be better in the end.

    And so I don't fear death.

    And, yes, it'll be terrible that my friends and family should have to suffer my going. For those who've seen far too many suicides than I'd like them to (not to mention those I've talked out of suicide numerous times...), it'd be awful.

    And maybe it helps that I think we're going to the same place in the end, so I'm not really bothered (though I am saddened) if either of us go early.

    Maybe it's my pesky emotional distance (whether I want it or not) cropping up again, though I doubt it.

     

    Or maybe it's the simple fact that happiness...it's so brief for me. It's great and all. And, as people say, isn't worth it? But I find myself, as the days go on, taking after those who live in the moment. Enjoy it. Find it precious. Look forward to it.

    But it's just a moment.

    See, happiness is fleeting for me. It doesn't last. It can't. My "normal" is set on depressed. Happy moments are like shooting stars. Was it great? You betcha. Would you take it back? No way. Can you survive off of the thrill of seeing shooting stars?

    No.

     

    Do I think life should be given a shot?

    YES.

    I think it should be given every shot. Follow my logic I gave you above. I'd rather go through life and say at the end, "That SUCKED – but I made the most of it, no regrets."

    But it is selfish and arrogant to assume that it's so easy for everyone as "It's just a temporary problem."

    No.

    I've seen pain I never want to look upon again – not from myself but other people suffering through it. And I wish, I so wish, I could just swoop in with the answers. But I don't have the answers.

    So don't tell me that living is the better choice. Only that person knows that. And, regardless of who's right or personal opinions, they should always get to make that choice themselves.

    To quote the Suicide FAQ, "The most basic difference in opinion between me and those who have mailed me telling me I'm a monster, seems to be that they think that death is an inherently Bad Thing, while I don't."

    But that's neither here nor there. This isn't really about my own opinion or stance. Point is, it's their life and their own suffering.

    You don't get to make that choice.