Into Your Hands. . .

I am in a good place.  Don't call my doctor.  Don't worry.  But I write to share my experiences, now past, but which are a very real part of this disease.

"Into your hands I commend my spirit."

These words which Jesus spoke from the cross just prior to his death spoke to me on numerous occasions.  I contemplated speaking them myself, and with them, breathing my last as he had.  I didn't.

Its interesting to hear people talk about suicide and the judgments that are often rendered.  "Suicide is an unforgivable sin for there is never any chance for repentance."  "Suicide is such a selfish act."  "Suicide is the ultimate lack of faith."

All I can say to those who say, have said, and perhaps continue to say things like this, is that this has not been my experience.

"I haven't been suicidal," I have told my doctors, "but I can see it from here".  I know the feelings of despair and hopelessness that give rise to such thoughts.  The weariness.  Oh, the weariness.  How many times can you hope that a new medication, or counseling, or life changes will bring about healing, only to have those hopes shattered as the day to day grind of depression resumes?  How much of life can be endured during the dark lonely nights of despair before it is finally too much?

To those who would talk about "unforgivable sins" I'd suggest that it is more helpful to recognize the struggles of living with "incurable diseases".  To those who consider that suicide is a "selfish act" I would suggest that for one so burdened with mental illness there comes a point where the "self" is simply lost, destroyed by the disease, with no capacity for consideration of others.  And to those who would suggest that suicide is the ultimate lack of faith, I can only say that as I have contemplated those words "Into your hands I commend my spirit" it was not for lack of faith.

Sometimes the simplest things might be the most important things to remember as one struggles with suicide.  "Take two aspirin and call me in the morning."  Actually, to be serious, dead serious, (pun intended) the most helpful thing of all for me, and I believe many struggling with suicide is to have a reference in the future (hence 'call me in the morning').  Something concrete.  If I were living with someone who was struggling the way I have struggled I would try this simple thing.  Get out a daily planner.  Tomorrow we will go to dinner.  Friday, lets walk to the beach.  Lets talk to the doctor on Monday.  We're going to have eggs benedict in the morning. Next week we will spend some time with the kids.  You don't have to plan a trip around the world, but simply help to build a vision of tomorrow.

During those times when I have been borderline suicidal, it was because a massive curtain was being drawn that closed off all vision of a future.  People commit suicide not because they want to end their life, but because in their perception, there life has already ended. They simply cannot see the future. That is the tragedy.  Its just a perception.

There has got to be something, perhaps simple, but significant nevertheless that is coming, that can be anticipated, that will give reason to pause.  Today is not a good day to die.  The trick you see, is not dying now.  If somehow there is something, no matter how simple, to focus on then the thoughts of 'no tomorrow' will pass.  That's what I believe.

Today, I'm in a good place.  I do have hopes which sustain me.  There are frustrations.  I'm on yet another medication to aid sleep, and the results are mixed.  I've had some good night's sleep, and some nights where it was just more of the same.  But the depression is in check.

And I hope that it is never by my own choice that I utter those words "into your hands I commend my spirit" and then die.  But if you know someone, have loved someone, and grieve the loss of someone who "died by suicide" after a long battle with mental illness -- know that it was the disease that finally killed them.  Their life was taken from them, just as it would have been had they died of cancer.