nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Abruption

My uncle's stepson committed suicide two nights ago. He was all of 23, despondent because a girl dumped him so he hung himself in his apartment.
Tonight was calling hours and the funeral is tomorrow, completely a family affair.
As an adult, now, I can say that suicide doesn't solve a thing. In fact, it completely ends everything, right? It leaves behind people who are shattered, trying to figure out the whys and the what ifs. Suicide is a final solution to a problem that may very well have been temporary.
Throughout my life, I've had such mixed up emotions about this sort of thing. As a teen, living in a house with two adults who's idea of recreation was to get drunk/stoned and then beat the living hell out of one another, living an existence that, by necessity, was pretty solitary and isolated, I can't say I never considered suicide. Hell, I considered suicide AND homicide when it got terrible there. When I was 15, I took 44 Vivarin and had a very trippy three days. I thought maybe that many pills would make my heart speed up, maybe make it fail. Instead, they made me extremely ill, vomiting and tripping to the extent that the walls were moving and bugs were crawling under my skin and there were talking fungi and mice that would melt into my floor.
When I was sufficiently recovered, I made the promise to myself that I'd never even CONTEMPLATE it again (a promise I broke when I was in my early 20's but not seriously---divorce will do that to you). That same summer, my older brother K. tried to kill himself yet again. He slit his wrists with a dismantled shaver while sitting in our kitchen, screaming at my mother that it was her fault, that everything was her fault. I had never seen so much blood.
Then he left, crawled up into a tree in our yard and watched the paramedics and smalltown cops trying to find him. He spent the rest of the summer in the mental ward.
I've watched my mother try to accomplish it, time and again. Her favorite method seems to be pills. She likes to take way too many (maybe where I got the idea for the Vivarin) and then try to go to sleep for a long time.
I can't say I don't understand what drives someone to think of it or even attempt it. I've been there, done that. I can say, though, that I've come to the realization that it solves nothing, accomplishes nothing more than hurting the people that love us most. I know, though, how easy it is for the logic to get lost in the pain.
I hurt for those left behind.
N.

8:40 p.m. - 2006-09-27

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