Classic NYC Story

I’d just like to clear up a few common (and immeasurably annoying) misconceptions about suicidal people:

1. We’re short sighted. We’re not. Not at all. People who say things like “this too shall pass” are short sighted. People who say things like “one day I’m going to get that good job, make a lot of money and meet the man of my dreams” without having any clear blueprint for how this is going to happen are short sighted. People who spend inordinate amounts of time doing things they don’t need or even want to do while saying “it’s okay; it’s only temporary” are short sighted. You can spend your whole life saying “it’s only temporary.” Life is temporary, but it’s long. Don’t tell me it’s short; it’s the longest thing I’m ever going to do. Forty years is a long time to spend at a job you hate. Fifty years is a long time to spend with a woman you hate. Don’t tell me it will be over soon unless you can tell me when or at least how. How will it be over? What do I have to do? What steps do I have to take? If you can’t tell me that, you’re short sighted, not me. At least I have a plan.

2. We’re cowards. Some of us are. I am, and I’ll admit it. I’m a coward because I’ve never followed through. (If I had, I wouldn’t be writing this now, would I?) Actually, I should reverse that last sentence and say that I’ve never followed through because I’m a coward. It takes strength to follow through. It takes courage. It takes a level of courage that most people don’t have. The person who follows through has done something about his situation. Most people are too punk or too lazy to do anything at all about what they call their “hard” lives. Life  may be hard but living is not. Living is a default. Suicide requires purposefully overriding the body’s natural self-preservation instinct. Suicide requires will power. Don’t believe me? I dare you to hold your hand directly in the flame of a stove or candle for thirty seconds. I’ll bet you can’t do it. I’ll bet you’re recoiling at the idea of it. Your body will make you almost involuntarily pull your hand away from the destructive force. It takes determination to follow through with self-desctruction. Granted, it also takes determination to truly live… that is, to find a way out of the common bullshit that doesn’t involve death. But most people who say things like “suicide is cowardly” have actually already committed the most cowardly form of suicide. They have melted themselves into a complacent zombie-like state in which they complain about the same four or five irritants day in and day out without ever moving to do anything about them, because, of course, that would take too much effort.

3. We want to “hurt ourselves.” We don’t. If I wanted to hurt myself, I’d get a job as a submissive in a bdsm dungeon. I get very little pleasure from pain, and when I do get pleasure from pain, it’s usually pain that’s inflicted on someone I don’t like. Death and torture are not the same thing. I don’t want to hurt myself; I want to die. I want to die because after careful consideration, I’ve discovered that there’s a logistical issue with trying to kill all the people I don’t like. Okay I’m joking. Partially. Older people tell me that one day when I’m old as well, I’ll realize that it’s just not practical to try to change all the things about the world that don’t suit me. They tell me that one day I’ll realize that the world is unjust, and cruel, and that life is what it is, and that my best bet is to suck it up and conform to it because it’s not going to change. Right now, I’m young enough to believe I’m superwoman, but one day I’ll understand, they say. But I’m not reactive; I’m proactive. If I can’t change the world, I want to leave. I’m not interested in stomaching all the misery that this world presents to me simply because everyone else is doing it. Everyone else is clearly a masochist at best or an idiot at worst. I don’t want to “hurt myself,” I want to free myself. Anyone who tells you differently has got it backwards.

4. We’re selfish. Of course we are. But don’t get it twisted; so are you. The most commonly used anti-suicide rhetoric usually includes some form of “What would your mother/wife/husband/children/etc. do without you?” This is a good point only to the extent that sometimes humans are codependent sometimes. For example, it would be pretty selfish for a single mother to whimsically jump off a bridge without first making some provision for her five young children. I, on the other hand, have no dependents. If I were to take out a life insurance policy, the beneficiary would be randomly chosen. Even when I was married, my husband made more money than I did. In fact, since I’m completely broke now, I’m currently somebody’s financial burden. And don’t tell me I’ll be more of a burden when I’m dead, because that’s just not true. Funerals do nothing for the dead. You have a funeral because you want to, not because I want you to. If there were no funeral at all, how would I know? If the flowers on my grave were wilted and ugly, how would I know? If somebody threw my corpse into the Hudson, how would I know?

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that I’m not selfish. Even though my death wouldn’t be a financial burden, I’m aware that my mother would cry and I just don’t care. I don’t like my mother anyway. Mother is a hater just like everyone else. Mother has said more than once and more than twice that she can’t wait for me to have kids, so that she can sit back and enjoy watching me suffer through raising them. (Ladies, raise your hands if your mother has ever said that to you. Hm… wow, that’s a lot of hands. So you understand then.) People seek to vindicate their own mistakes, failures, and poor choices through others who have done the same. Because if we’ve all failed, then the task was simply impossible, and we can mutually justify having given up. When a young sprite like me comes along, who seeks to, through living or dying find an alternative to the dead life to which everyone else seems to have agreed, their feathers get ruffled. That’s the reason people don’t want me to die or live, and it is a selfish reason that has nothing to do with me, or my desires, or even how much value I can bring to them.

Think about it: why are we upset when we find out that a person who was suffering with either a terminal disease or a deep depression takes his situation into his own hands and takes his life? Isn’t that the ultimate action of self-responsibility and empowerment? He took his own life and didn’t allow it to be taken from him… is that bad? Would you rather that he live defeated and in pain?

Of course you would. Everyone else lives defeated and in pain. Why should he be different? Selfish bastard.

5. We can’t see the beauty in life. We do. One of my favorite lyrics is from a song called River Man: “Betty said she prayed today / for the sky to blow away / or maybe stay / she wasn’t sure / when she felt the summer rain / calling for her mind again / she lost the pain / and stayed for more.” It’s the reason why some of us are still alive. Have you ever known a person who was in an abusive relationship? Have you ever said to her or heard said to her things like “Why do you let him treat you that way?” “Why do you let him talk to you / hit you that way?” “Why don’t you leave him?” And have you ever heard the response “he’s not always that bad”? Doesn’t that answer make you want to strangle her yourself? But she’s not lying. He’s not always that bad. Sometimes he’s seductive and manipulative. He kisses her and makes love to her and tells her he’s sorry for everything. Maybe he makes her believe that it’s her fault; that if she would just do this and that and the other thing a little bit better or more often, it would all be okay. Maybe he makes her believe that she’s lucky to have him. But whatever he’s doing, she believes it’s not all bad, even through all the scars and cigarette burns and self esteem issues and crying, even while her girlfriends are trying to convince her that he’s not worth it. She sees at least some good in that relationship. And yes, I do see some beauty in life. I’m life’s battered woman, wondering if I will get the best results from grabbing a frying pan and fighting back or just getting the hell out. The difference is that in my case, my “girlfriends” (played by doctors, friends, and miscellaneous strangers) seem to think I should just stick it out like Farrah Fawcett’s mother-in-law in the Burning Bed. And sometimes I’m tempted to stick it out, when I “feel the summer rain calling for my mind again”… because there are things in life like love and jazz and good food and alcohol that are seductive and tempting, that always lure me into believing that the good time I’m having right now is going to last until after the last note or bite or sip.

My marriage was beautiful. It’s over.

If you’re still reading after this ridiculously long post, I’m sure you have something to say, so go ahead and say it. I’d love to hear what other people think about the topic.

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