It’s a delicate subject, but after the passing of a dear friend by his own hand, I feel I have to say something. Too many have suffered in silence and indignity, so I must speak: I am pro-suicide. No, I’m not talking about the legal rights people have to do with their bodies however they see fit. I’m talking about the decision itself.
For almost my entire adult life, I was suicidal. Still am sometimes. It isn’t something that ever really leaves for good. Some circumstances do change. Every great life event that would have caused me to abandon this world (the last of which being far more recent than I’d ever care to admit) never transpired. One circumstance that hasn’t changed has been myself. I am still, at my core, the same person I always was; with all the misunderstanding, brilliance, inability, exuberance, despair, and terrifying solitude that comes with the package. I know what it’s like to struggle on with a smile on my face, when everything inside screams the opposite. I know loneliness. I know despair. I know futility. And I know what it’s like to continue on in pain, with no conceivable way of bringing it to an end.
Too often, through an inability (or unwillingness) to let go of the illusion of control over the lives of others, the living bully and demonize the dead. One common accusation I hear is that the suicidal are selfish, acting without considering what pain their passing might visit on others. While there’s no avoiding the fact that dying will profoundly affect many people, to call taking one’s life “selfish” is itself one of the most selfish ways of viewing human life. Each of us only has one precious life. One. It is ours to deal with as we see fit. Truly, it’s all we have. To therefore suggest that we owe any part of our life to anyone else, that our life is not our own because others’ lives may be affected in some way, is supremely arrogant and dismissive of the humanity of others. [Read more…]