You’re hanging from a ledge too scared to hold the hand that wants to lift you up…

12 03 2010

If my sinful life wasn’t bad enough already, I am surely going to burn in hell for this blog post, yet I feel compelled to rant and lay it out.  Suicidal people make me angry.  Angry that they would even think of taking their own life when there are so many people dying who would appreciate one more breath, but angrier still that they just talk and hint and stir up the drama rather than just do it.  I understand they are mentally ill, that they need help.  But I’m of this mindset – piss or get off the pot.  If you or someone you know is suicidal or makes suicidal remarks, then get help.  If you aren’t going to actually do it, then shut the hell up.  Be sincere and just say I don’t feel loved or liked or I need a hug.

There was a young man, a friend of an acquaintance, who I just learned died this past week.  He was 27, had no medical insurance, no job and was concerned about piling on some senseless bill to his debts for the common cold.  It turned out to be pneumonia.  And he is dead.

Another young man, another friend of an acquaintance, died three months ago.  He was 24, had a young pregnant wife and no job, no foreseeable future in his eyes.  His wife found him hanging from a wooden rafter in their garage with a rope around his neck.  And he is dead.

It pisses me off that the 24 year old could rob his future child of a father, his wife of a husband, his parents of a child, his friends of his company all because he selfishly couldn’t see past Friday while the 27 year old man died needlessly to pneumonia.  How self centered does one have to be to end their perfectly good life because it isn’t as good as they think it should be?

I have a mutual acquaintance who is barely even that, but for some yearning desire they chose to request me as a friend on a social network site and I was silly enough to go sure, what the hell.  For almost a year I have watched this person verbally stand on the ledge and search for a jumping point.  The first clue, the I just want my life to end, I wish all my friends a good life post – I mentioned the post to our mutual friend who said nah, he’s likely just bullshitting, he’s the most upbeat and happy person you could ever meet.  Yeah, okay.  Well perhaps he was bullshitting, but here we sit a year later and every few days or so is a I want to kill myself post.  Sometimes you have to read between the lines like Two more days then you can say you knew me or My walk through life is almost at a dead end.  But, on cue, the days pass and he’s back sending me Mafia Wars invites.  And along the way, with every my life sucks post, there are five or ten or so of his five hundred some friends who reach out to say noooo and we love you.

When my father died of cancer at the age of 54, his young overly dramatic widow, my stepmother, would ramp up the antics for neighbours and family whenever she felt alone.  Once I was told by her neighbour  that in the bitter cold of a Kansas blizzard, she was standing on the front porch in her nightie, no robe or coat.  This elderly couple hurried over, thinking she had locked herself out or worse.  No, she was just scared because my father’s ghost was talking to her in the house.  When the housework became overwhelming she wanted to die and thus her church women’s group came running to help clean the house – which ended when she began to critique their handy work.  The final straw was when I was helping go through my father’s belongings and she told me how without him she couldn’t live.  I’d heard it too many times, so I told her to go get his gun out of the coat closet and get to it while I was still in a cleaning mode.  My family whipped their heads around and chastised me quick, but she never made a move for the gun.  She’s since managed to settle her way through the estate and come away with a nice chunk of my children’s college tuition only to marry a new man who ran off with it all.

I digress.

While it angers me that someone could rob the world of their life, it pushes me to the limit to hear idiots who trivialize their suicidal thoughts and use them as a means to get attention.  People who are truly suicidal need help.  People who aren’t and just find it a useful technique to get out of their Eeyore moment should be strung up by their toes.

 Source for title - Miranda Lambert "What About Georgia?"



2 responses

22 03 2010

The subject is fully clear but why does the text lack clarity? But in general your blog is great.

20 05 2010

It lacks clarity when I lack caffeine ;)
Thanks for reading!

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