In Two Pieces

I type this in two pieces– half of me wants to delete yesterday’s entry.  Admitting my suicidal thoughts and throwing that admission into cyberspace is terrifying.  To allow these words to exist validates them as a reality I steer through every day. But sometimes, all pain wants is for us to acknowledge that it exists and it’s allowed to take up space.  It’s allowed to breathe too.  I feel naked.  I worry about if my employer or a future employer reads this.  I worry about friends or family seeing this.

Before going further: please read this without alarms sounding off, without binding me in yellow caution tape. Suicide is serious.  It should be taken seriously, but I think that we can do that without jumping immediately to “GO SEE A THERAPIST”.  The jump signifies how uncomfortable we are hearing about depression and suicide– a societal cringe at the face of genuine discomfort.  We don’t want to hear it, and maybe this is why we lack the words to discuss depression and suicide.  What I can say is that the discomfort of hearing that your loved one is suicidal pales in comparison to the agony of living with a death wish.  It’s not so much about saying the right thing but daring to listen.

Like I said, I wasn’t sure if I should keep yesterday’s post up, let alone add to it.  But this is worth talking about.  Today is not a bad day.  Today is manageable, but depression is a hypersensitive condition, volatile and subject to change.  There’s not much to report, no updates.  Maybe that’s a good thing.  One of these days I’ll introduce myself further.  Today is not that day.  Today is Tuesday, and I’m here.


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