“There is a powerful lesson to be learned here by us. Though we are born with an inborn ability to be unconditionally loving, often we are born to parents whose life experiences have taught them to become hard, and to lose that ability to experience and give unconditional love. Watching the deer and her babies is a reminder to honour and respect the child-like innocence within your self and go about your life with gentleness and an open heart. You should also stand strong on your path, in your beliefs, and not allow yourself to get distracted by outside influences.
Melting into divine desire –
But I don’t want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness, I want sin. Aldous Huxley
Somewhere along the line, I learned the idea that desire was a bad thing. As a child I was told I was being selfish and greedy to express my desire for things. “You’ll get what you’re given. Like it or lump it” was the general philosophy.
Like Oliver Twist asking for some extra gruel, some authorative voice boomed at my requests “More? Who dares to ask for more?”
I do. I dare. Having played the cards of meekness, detachment and acceptance for many years – and although all these qualities have their place – I realise that this desire is what fuels me. Desire, passion, yearning have been instrumental in my evolution. They stretch me beyond my safe zone.
The fear that was instilled in me is that desire and passion makes us reckless, makes us take risks. Yes, it does. And that’s exactly its power.
I am not what happened to me. I am what I choose to become. Carl Jung
SUICIDE: YOU KILLED MORE THAN YOURSELF. Wanna kill yourself? Imagine this. You come home from school one day. You’ve had yet another horrible day. You’re just ready to give up. So you go to your room, close the door, and take out that suicide note you’ve written and rewritten over and over and over You take out those razor blades, and cut for the very last time. You grab that bottle of pills and take them all. Laying down, holding the letter to your chest, you close your eyes for the very last time. A few hours later, your little brother knocks on your door to come tell you dinners ready. You don’t answer, so he walks in. All he sees is you laying on your bed, so he thinks you’re asleep. He tells your mom this. Your mom goes to your room to wake you up. She notices something is odd. She grabs the paper in your hand and reads it. Sobbing, she tries to wake you up. She’s screaming your name. Your brother, so confused, runs to go tell Dad that “Mommy is crying and sissy won’t wake up.” Your dad runs to your room. He looks at your mom, crying, holding the letter to her chest, sitting next to your lifeless body. It hits him, what’s going on, and he screams. He screams and throws something at the wall. And then, falling to his knees, he starts to cry. Your mom crawls over to him, and they sit there, holding each other, crying. The next day at school, there’s an announcement. The principal tells everyone about your suicide. It takes a few seconds for it to sink in, and once it does, everyone goes silent. Everyone blames themselves. Your teachers think they were too hard on you. Those mean popular girls, they think of all the things they’ve said to you. That boy that used to tease you and call you names, he can’t help but hate himself for never telling you how beautiful you really are. Your ex boyfriend, the one that you told everything to, that broke up with you.. He can’t handle it. He breaks down and starts crying, and runs out of the school. Your friends? They’re sobbing too, wondering how they could never see that anything was wrong, wishing they could have helped you before it was too late. And your best friend? She’s in shock. She can’t believe it. She knew what you were going through, but she never thought it would get that bad… Bad enough for you to end it. She can’t cry, she can’t feel anything. She stands up, walks out of the classroom, and just sinks to the floor. Shaking, screaming, but no tears coming out. It’s a few days later, at your funeral. The whole town came. Everyone knew you, that girl with the bright smile and bubbly personality. The one that was always there for them, the shoulder to cry on. Lots of people talk about all the good memories they had with you, there were a lot. Everyone’s crying, your little brother still doesn’t know you killed yourself, he’s too young. Your parents just said you died. It hurts him, a lot. You were his big sister, you were supposed to always be there for him. Your best friend, she stays strong through the entire service, but as soon as they start lowering your casket into the ground, she just loses it. She cries and cries and doesn’t stop for days. It’s two years later. Your teachers all quit their job. Those mean girls have eating disorders now. That boy that used to tease you cuts himself. Your ex boyfriend doesn’t know how to love anymore and just sleeps around with girls. Your friends all go into depression. Your best friend? She tried to kill herself. She didn’t succeed like you did, but she tried…your brother? He finally found out the truth about your death. He self harms, he cries at night, he does exactly what you did for years leading up to your suicide. Your parents? Their marriage fell apart. Your dad became a workaholic to distract himself from your death. Your mom got diagnosed with depression and just lays in bed all day. People care. You may not think so, but they do. Your choices don’t just affect you. They affect everyone. Don’t end your life, you have so much to live for. Things can’t get better if you give up. I’m here for absolutely anyone that needs to talk, no matter who you are. Even if we’ve NEVER talked before, I’m here for you. Copy and paste this as your status to show people there are people out there that care.let’s see who actually read all of it.
For anyone that feels this way, we are trying to demonstrate that someone’s always listening.
People who are suicidal are overcome by emotional pain and cannot rationalize something like this. The feeling of empathy for those who love them is often replaced by the feeling of being burdensome. You see, pain whether physical or emotional takes over your rational thought. Your mind then switches gears from the basic survival instinct to just wanting to eliminate the source of the pain. This source you have internalized by now and the two identities (yourself and the pain) have blurred into one. In your mind that boyfriend will be your last love, your best friend is tired of your sob stories, your parents marriage is on the verge of divorce and the financial and daily burden of one less child might help, the mean girls have just been objectified to be a cruel society. You are probably dealing with clinical depression and serotonin imbalance (what came first the chicken or the egg) and maybe anxiety. This type of piece guilts suicidal people. Adding guilt doesn’t help. I hope you understand; but you quite possibly may never unless you yourself looked over that cliff.
2 years later, I am rebuilding my life. Those people mentioned in post left a legacy of loss. But, I work hard each day to create a new legacy. Even if working hard only produces that I show up to life that day. There have been days I missed those I loved despite the hurt they caused. There have been days I wish our paths never crossed. There have definitely been days where I just wanted to QUIT – figuratively and literally. No money, barely having the essentials, not able to help anyone else better yet myself or my kids. But, in my own personal learning trajectory I have learned to just show up.
Things are a little more stable these days. I started my position as a Marketing Associate for Legal Shield (thank you angel, Henry Barefield). I started Aya’s Lyrics. My kids still are teens (+ a 20 year old). All those things give me hope. But there are still days when I want to quit, cannot see my future for my circumstances and truly wonder if this life? Is this all? For those days, I just show up. Sometimes disheveled with tears flowing. But I am here. Even if I don’t remember why, even when the output I get doesn’t match the heart and effort I put in. Some days all I can do is show up. And I happen to think those days are my bravest.