Why do people commit suicide? It’s a question I ask myself often and think about in great length. I wish I had the answer. Mostly, and selfishly, I wish I knew why PJ did.
Unfortunately, this is seemingly becoming an epidemic. Some may say easy way out. But I don’t think so. I don’t think anything about it is easy. I’ve not been there, but one of the closest people to me has been. And another of my favorite people has been much too close to being another fatality. I thank God daily that it wasn’t a successful attempt.
I don’t know much. I’m not trained in this. But I’ve lived a side of it that I don’t wish on anyone. So here’s what I’ve learned.
I’ve learned that no matter how hard you try, you can’t change or “fix” someone’s brokenness. You can’t. I know. I tried. At that point I didn’t know I was trying to save a life in that sense. I was trying to save someone from the battles I was shown. But those battles didn’t take his life. It was the other sh** I wasn’t allowed to see. Because it wasn’t wanted to be seen. That’s the scary part. You don’t get to know. And you won’t until it’s far too late. One of the best counselors (in my opinion) taught me that if it’s that set in their minds, it will happen. Maybe I saved him a few times, but ultimately, this was going to happen unless help was sought out.
I did everything in my power to make a difference for a person I cared so much for. And there was a brief period where I am certain it was appreciated and maybe even helping. But it wasn’t enough. And I’m finding out now that it would have never been enough. I couldn’t save him. He had to. And he did not know how.
I have been given a choice. I can sit here and blame myself and everyone around me, or I can accept the fact that mental illness won. In this case it did. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
What I can do is keep going. I can live my life to the fullest. I can raise my kids. I can make sure they know how awesome their dad was before he got sick. I can keep his memory alive by telling them fun stories. I can fall in love again and make sure that my children understand that our lives don’t end with the death of another. I can keep going. And I am.
Suicde is a scary and strange thing. It’s hard to comprehend, and it’s very difficult to mourn. But it’s real. And we have to know it’s there. And we have to love. Even if it doesn’t save everyone. We have to love!!!