and those who woodenly hear it, look
not this way at all, and what's happened here
they do not want to learn.
- rainer maria rilke
this is a cold place, here in our wishes for nonexistance. there are some days when the wind swirls angrily above our heads, when the sky is dark and hope has all but vanished into the storm. in hours of pain we sometimes pray for death to liberate us, but more often than not our true wish is that life will liberate us.
i have been known to sometimes remark, bitterly, that i hate life, but what i am saying is, i hate the way i am living. now. not always, only now.
when i was thirteen i came very close to suicide. i consider that even though i did not inflict any harm upon my body it was an attempt. if i had tried, i know i would have succeeded. i crouched in the shadows of my darkened room, contemplating my own mortality. i felt so incredibly, indescribably sad. how much longer would i last like this? how much further could i push myself? if i took my own life, how long would it take before i passed? what would my last thought be?
i am thankful, now and always, for the presence of one thing in my room: a stuffed animal my father had bought me for christmas the year before. i realized, looking at it, that as old and as world-weary as i felt, my dad thought of me as his little girl. if i went through with this, without a note or an explanation or any warning, where would he be left? in guilt, in shame, full of questions with no answers?
i said to myself, "this is unfair. now get up." and i did. i looked around the room, dry-eyed, and decided that instead of ending my life, i would change it.
at that time i was deep in a severe depression. i felt like i could never hope to be honest with any of my friends, or even with my family. i hid many of my emotions from them and never had anyone to talk to about my everyday difficulties with dealing with abuse memories and the other troubles i faced at thirteen. i stood helpless so often, in guilt, in shame, full of questions with no answers.
finally i chose to create beauty in my own life. there are always things to rejoice over. always. throughout all of the pain and chaos and indignity that we suffer, there will always be something beautiful. a flower, a robin, someone's smile. even when we feel most alone, we have to try to remember the loveliness in the world, the sweet-smelling rose that comes after prick of the thorns.
remember that sorrow can change, and death cannot.
if you or someone you know is feeling suicidal, please call your local crisis line.
