I have found myself over the last little while quite envious of a friend of ours that recently committed suicide. I know, I know, you think I am crazy. You are wondering what on earth has gotten into her head now.
I am not envious of the pain that she has caused any of the people around him, that I am angry about. I want to scream and kick and shout at him about that. I want to have the opportunity to get in his face one last time at my parents breakfast table. Tell him that i love him and that I know that life sucks, but his wife loves him, his children love him, his grand children love him and there are things to live for outside of his depression. I want to scream it so loud that he cannot stand to do anything else but sit there and listen to it ringing in his ears over the depression, screaming louder than anything else in his life.
But then, in the depths of my soul, behind anything that I choose to admit or feel, is envy. Envy that Michael had the courage to actually stop fighting. Stop feeling like crap everyday. Stop putting on this face that says "I'm OK" on the outside, and is screaming "I hate life" on the inside. He doesn't have to fight anymore. He doesn't have to feel like a burden anymore. He is free from the illness. He does not have to go to bed tonight and wish that he could not wake up tomorrow just so he could find peace in sleep.
I will continue to fight the good fight everyday. I have seen the pain that suicide causes through Michael. It is not the answer. I must remind myself that it is not about me, it is about the people that are around me. The pain that I feel, that I see the family and friends of Michael in reminds me that one's choice to take their own life is not about the relief of their own pain. It is about the pain and loss of those around them when they are gone. I think that this is what Michael has left me with. His legacy for me and my ability to impact the mental health community is to talk openly about how I feel, envy and all, with others.
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