
Photo by Michel Kwan
We’ve all been touched by suicide. Whether it was the death of someone we know or someone we admire, we’ve felt the coldness of that loss for which the answers never satisfy. We may not understand why, but God knows. He is most intimately connected with us, even when we feel detached from Him. As I mentioned in “He Comes Walking,” He is well-acquainted with human suffering, including the desperate, hopeless suffering that leads to an individual’s taking his or her own life.
In a post that first appeared in Medium on June 8, my friend, K.C. Dulan, ruminates over the whys and hows and urges us to truly see each other and give “rest” in life instead of death.
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Woke up to the news of another suicide of a high-profile individual.
The second one in a week.
And I wondered; how many more died invisible deaths by suicide in-between the two?
Unseen. Unnamed. Unheard.
Wondered about the “why” as the rate steadily climbs.
Wondered about the “how” — how to make it stop; because the truth is those that are willing to DO something about it are often barely treading water themselves.
And I worry about them all…
The doers.
The grinders.
The healers.
The seers.
The feelers.
The bearers.
The wanderers.
The ones who are not readily seen as broken, but are givers — constantly breaking off pieces of themselves to be consumed by the needs and wants of others until nothing remains.
They DO whatever needs to be done regardless of their own mental or emotional capacity and promise to take care of themselves just as soon as this one more thing is done.
They GRIND, determined not to be average and in pursuit of “greatness” or “success” before they have clearly defined what that truly means…and what it really costs…for themselves.
They HEAL (everyone else). Make us laugh, entertain us, show us the world, teach us to love…they stand in the gap or endure public flogging for standing up. Or sitting down. Or marching. Or taking a knee.
They SEE and accept the brokenness in others but are ashamed and cannot forgive or accept their own.
And they FEEL the wounds and pain of humanity and yearn for others to feel it, too.
They BEAR the burdens of their fellow man…shoulders raw, backs bent from carrying the weight of the world.
They WANDER seeking safety, seeking hope, seeking solutions, seeking solace, seeking peace.
People say it’s a selfish act…
Interestingly committed by those who often give the most of themselves –
The warriors doing battle without the armor of selfishness, narcissism, and individualism on the front lines against hate, apathy, indifference, injustice; refusing to take up space with their own pain and suffering;
Those whose internal, looping tapes – embedded by the unrealistic demands and expectations of others – tell them over and over again that they are NEVER enough. No matter how much they accomplish, it will never be enough.
Those who have been sold the unsustainable lie that they are nothing unless they “stay grindin’” — when the very definition of “grind” is to REDUCE (something) to small particles or powder by crushing it.
Until… “IT” becomes the only way to find rest…
How ironic that we then say
Rest in peace.
Rest in freedom.
Rest in power.
It’s all they ever wanted.
If only we could give it to each other in LIFE instead of in death.
#Pleasedontgo #Pleasestay #Youmatter #Youareenough #Iseeyou
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About the author: K.C. Dulan is oddly optimistic that Love will win. She is the wife of one, mother of three, daughter, sister, friend. She is a quiet warrior who is passionate about family, community, faith, and justice.
That was close to home. My mother ended her life when I was 12. My sister is treated for depression. Yes, don’t be silent. Speak out.
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I’m so sorry. I have no words. You’ve told me about your sister, but I did not know about your mother. You’re right. We must keep talking and exercising compassion. Sending you hugs…
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My mom ended her life 1981 – yes, I am that old, I’ll be 50 this year – and it hit my sister harder than me. That is where her depression came from, I suppose. At least my sister is in therapy, thanks to German “socialistic” health care … (so very, very grateful for not living in the US – health care there is no laughing matter).
She has survived meanwhile the acute outbreak for 18 years. And keeps fighting. Some days are better, some are worse. But she keeps going – and I am so proud of her.
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This breaks my heart. 😦 And you are NOT old. 50 is young these days!
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No, 50 is the generation of grandparents and grandaunts. Not the younger generation anymore 😉 It doesn’t scare me to know that my generation is the next to go. It’s not as if it was unnatural. I know I might still have 20, 25 or even 30 good years ahead of me. So I am not panicking just yet. Since 2014, when my dad died, I am “an orphan” – and not the middle generation anymore. And since 2016 I am a grandaunt (doubly so, both nieces gave birth to lovely baby daughters). So while I am not exactly a crone, I am certainly not a young woman anymore. I am even slowly leaving my fertile years. Certainly not YOUNG … might still have some good times. I am not despairing. Just seeing things as they are.
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This is such an important post. “If only we could give it to each other in LIFE instead of in death.” So true.
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Thanks. And yes…give it in life…
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