4/22/18
This morning I was sitting with my son, he’s recently been on a kick where he inspects hands for “Boo-boo’s” so I let him thoroughly search my fingers and palms for any imperfection or injury he could find. He stopped on a scar on my right middle finger, looking up at me in terror and letting out a very concerned, “Bah!?” I grabbed his hand and pointed to a small scar on his thumb from where he pinched it in his toy sweeper and said, “Scar.” Looking at me perplexed he questioned, “Bah?” I said once more, “Ssscarrr.” He looked at his thumb and put it out for me to kiss, which I did to calm his anxiety.
When I was a teenager I spent a weekend at two of my friends’ house. They were both slightly younger than me and their parents were a lot more lenient than mine. During that weekend we ran up and down the street, terrorizing the neighborhood at the wee hours of night, we played X-Box (the original, keep in mind I was a teenager so it was well before the next gen systems) and listened to old Kiss and AC/DC Records on vinyl that I stole from my uncle. The last morning together we were on the computer playing the classic “Stick Death” game. While doing so I was playing with one of their paint or airsoft guns (can’t recall which it was at the moment) when I caught the fatty midsection of my middle finger in the gun as the barrel cocked forward. Blood began gushing rapidly and my finger was pierced with a pin I had never felt before. We rushed in to their mom’s room and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, pouring it over the area of my finger where the chunk of flesh was missing, the piercing pain was gone, replaced by the burn of a thousand suns. It felt as if my arm had just been submerged in a vat of McDonald’s coffee before they were hit with a lawsuit and forced to put, “Caution: Hot” on all of their cups. We wrapped bandage after bandage around it, watching as it was quickly saturated by the blood. We repeated the process for a number of minutes until finally wrapping it in a bandage, gauze and tape. Finally! The bleeding had subsided!
About 20 minutes ago I got a call from my mom, she asked if I had talked to my sister yet today and I told her I had not. She paused for a second and without sugar coating it said, “__________ Killed himself last night. His girlfriend found him this morning. He hung himself.”
That person was the younger of the two brothers who’s house the story of my scar had taken place.
Upon my mom telling me this I felt nauseous, shocked and deeply saddened. He and I lost touch after high school, as did his brother and I, however want time we would see each other we would hug and laugh and talk like we’d never missed a beat. It’s hard to imagine a friend, someone you once knew as so full of life and energy, would take their own life.
I’m not going to write anything profound or put in my two cents about suicide, self harm, self destructive behavior or mental illness. However, I will say that nothing, let me stress that, NOTHING on this planet is worth taking your life over. I write a lot of stuff that very dark and often depressing, that’s just how I choose to write. I’ve been in that darkness, I’ve felt hopeless and worthless and ready to leave but I realized that giving up doesn’t get you a solution but prevents one from ever being possible. If you feel like the only peace in your life could be brought by ending it, please reach out to someone, talk to people, get help. Don’t self stigmatize, you aren’t your illness or your problems. Don’t ever be afraid of judgment when asking for help, trust me. The love and support you get from those around you will outweigh any fear or uncertainty you had. You may not believe it now, but you’re hear for a reason, even if you don’t see it now.
Never give up!
Rest In Peace R.I.
When I was a teenager I spent a weekend at two of my friends’ house. They were both slightly younger than me and their parents were a lot more lenient than mine. During that weekend we ran up and down the street, terrorizing the neighborhood at the wee hours of night, we played X-Box (the original, keep in mind I was a teenager so it was well before the next gen systems) and listened to old Kiss and AC/DC Records on vinyl that I stole from my uncle. The last morning together we were on the computer playing the classic “Stick Death” game. While doing so I was playing with one of their paint or airsoft guns (can’t recall which it was at the moment) when I caught the fatty midsection of my middle finger in the gun as the barrel cocked forward. Blood began gushing rapidly and my finger was pierced with a pin I had never felt before. We rushed in to their mom’s room and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, pouring it over the area of my finger where the chunk of flesh was missing, the piercing pain was gone, replaced by the burn of a thousand suns. It felt as if my arm had just been submerged in a vat of McDonald’s coffee before they were hit with a lawsuit and forced to put, “Caution: Hot” on all of their cups. We wrapped bandage after bandage around it, watching as it was quickly saturated by the blood. We repeated the process for a number of minutes until finally wrapping it in a bandage, gauze and tape. Finally! The bleeding had subsided!
About 20 minutes ago I got a call from my mom, she asked if I had talked to my sister yet today and I told her I had not. She paused for a second and without sugar coating it said, “__________ Killed himself last night. His girlfriend found him this morning. He hung himself.”
That person was the younger of the two brothers who’s house the story of my scar had taken place.
Upon my mom telling me this I felt nauseous, shocked and deeply saddened. He and I lost touch after high school, as did his brother and I, however want time we would see each other we would hug and laugh and talk like we’d never missed a beat. It’s hard to imagine a friend, someone you once knew as so full of life and energy, would take their own life.
I’m not going to write anything profound or put in my two cents about suicide, self harm, self destructive behavior or mental illness. However, I will say that nothing, let me stress that, NOTHING on this planet is worth taking your life over. I write a lot of stuff that very dark and often depressing, that’s just how I choose to write. I’ve been in that darkness, I’ve felt hopeless and worthless and ready to leave but I realized that giving up doesn’t get you a solution but prevents one from ever being possible. If you feel like the only peace in your life could be brought by ending it, please reach out to someone, talk to people, get help. Don’t self stigmatize, you aren’t your illness or your problems. Don’t ever be afraid of judgment when asking for help, trust me. The love and support you get from those around you will outweigh any fear or uncertainty you had. You may not believe it now, but you’re hear for a reason, even if you don’t see it now.
Never give up!
Rest In Peace R.I.
Comments
Post a Comment