HAVE WE MADE A DIFFERENCE?

The question every suicidal person wonders, whether we admit it or not, how will we be remembered?

Allow me to answer that one for you right now; Selfish, will be what we're most remembered for. No matter how much good we've done, how positively or negatively for that matter, we have affected other's lives. Selfish, will be their first thought of us for a very, very, very long time. The memories that torture us to the cliff will be the very thing that tortures the ones we leave behind. For better or worse, memories, such a silly little word, describing something only visible to each individual from their own point of view, is what creates who we are, shapes who we become and is the very invisible fabric of WHO and WHAT we are. 

Are you really a person if you have no memories? Not really, the term "brain dead" and "vegetative" state, come to mind. Does a carrot know if it's a carrot or not? Probably not, but let's be honest here, I've never actually been a fucking carrot, so who the hell knows if it's self-aware or not. Perhaps, it was going along just fine, enjoying it's carrot life, until some uncaring human chopped it up and tossed it in a boiling pot of stew. All gone, no more carrot. Like I said, I doubt it. So without memories we are no longer really living any kind of existence. 

Our memories are created by both time and simple self-awareness. Even our unconscious dreaming adds to our collection of memories. Each memory connecting to the others like Legos, the building blocks of us. So, the question remains for the SUISIDALLY, inclined, how will we be remembered? My personal suiside, always convinces my logical side, that in time, the people that care about me will get over it. They'll move on as we all move on from the deaths in our lives. Eventually, they'll see beyond the selfishness and remember the good things I did in my life. The positive things, they'll remember the love and affection I gave, the sacrifices I made and the things I did for them. That's how death works. First we mourn, then we REMEMBER the lost. 

There's just one hitch in that logic when you commit suicide, you're adding another step to the process. First they mourn, then they must FORGIVE, then they'll remember you. And if you have read the previous post, you know where I stand on real, true forgiveness. Bit of a phantom thing, we all strive to do in order to go on with our lives after physical or emotional trauma. We never really forgive pain inflicted by others. We merely, in time stick it in a little box in our head, labeled "Do not open," and try to avoid thinking about it and the triggers that blow the box wide open. As other painful memories accumulate we compare them to the other "hurt boxes" in our crazy ass mind "attics," we sort them, we organize them, hell we even 'cherish' them, in some cases for the knowledge they taught us. The very way we organize the "hurt boxes" determines how falsely we feel "forgiving" towards any particular box. That big one in the front hurt more and for longer than the tiny one in the corner, so the tiny one in the corner is less painful by COMPARISON to others. Therefore..."forgivable." Which really just means rarely thought of or remembered. 

Big hurts, fresh hurts, long lasting hurts, they all get a place in our memories. The worse we perceive them to be the better and less painful the others look next to them. The death of someone you really love, that HURTS LIKE A MOTHER FUCKER. Inside and out, mentally and physically and it NEVER truly goes away. It's as permanent as death itself. So, in the memories of the people who love us, we must consider that our INTENTIONALLY inflicting the death of a loved one on them, well that's a big ass, never ending "HURT BOX." How will they organize it in their memories? Front and center, baby. That box is so huge and so endless, it will never look any better to them, even stacked with all the other hurts that they carry with them. So will they ever be able to get to that third step of death? The good memories of us part? Not really. Like many ultimate hurts, there is no true forgiveness and suicides inflicted pain has very little that compares to it. Without something worse for comparison, our last act becomes unforgivable. No matter how "good" or "bad" we were the truth is, for the most part our loved ones memories of us will always be first and foremost, anger and rage at us for the intentional pain we inflicted on them. 

And let's face it, I like honesty, even when it hurts. So ask yourself this question: How long have you been depressed and locked in your own miserable mind before you got to this point? With that in mind, how long has it been since you have actually been a worthwhile person to know? How many people and interests have you dropped, just because you feel like shit and can't escape it? Weeks, months, years, decades? How long has it been since you were able to crawl out of your dark hole long enough to install a good memory of yourself in someone else?  We have to think. We have to consider. It's all that stands between us and what the SUISIDE is begging us to do. I don't believe real forgiveness exists. Just comparison. And logic tells me, nothing compares to the pain of a loved one dying, much less at their own hands. They won't forgive us, not because they don't want to, but because they really CAN'T. Just as for whatever reason, we can't forgive whatever hurts got us here. 

So how will we be remembered if we give in? Most likely? Selfish. Just selfish. Nothing more. Stick it out. Ups and downs, sooner or later something WILL feel better in our lives. we just have to live long enough to get to it. We fall, we stand and we fall again. Live for the stands, it's all we or anyone else really has. 

Music of memories, a toast to the invisible fibers of us. FALL OUT BOY's "Centuries" and THE FRAY's "Hold my hand."

BETRAYED AND BETRAYAL

Trust, what a delicate little bitch. 

First off, don't think for a second I can help you regain it, or help you learn how to forgive others. I can't, and quite frankly, no matter what you read anywhere, all the psychoanalytical mumbo jumbo in the world won't help you let go of any real betrayal. Although, I suppose there may perhaps, be a loophole for those who are religious enough. The point you will read and hear most often from sources online and off and from those older and wiser than you, is that you don't forgive your betrayers for them, you do it for you....blah blah blah. That's a crock. I can see their point though, it is WHY, we are supposed to forgive. So we don't spend our whole lives letting old shit rip us apart and destroy our ability to put trust in other human beings.

How did those older, wiser and psych studying folks come to that conclusion? Duh. By letting old shit rip them apart their whole lives and destroy their ability to trust other humans. They fared no better at forgiving or being forgiven than anyone else, for that matter. As they've gotten older and "wiser" they do however, realize if only, oh, if only, they'd let painful shit go...maybe, their lives would have been happier and they would have been better off. Well, of course they would have. And if forgiving and forgiveness for true betrayal was as possible as they'd have us believe, we'd all be happier and better off wouldn't we? Sure, we would. But if you've ever really been betrayed by someone you trusted, or betrayed someone that trusted you; chances are neither you, nor they stand a chance. The pain you experience and the pain you cause, they fade with time but unlike scars on the outside, emotional pain is like an everlasting scar on your soul. Teensy bit more fragile there. Those wounds remain, like a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off every time you see or hear anything that triggers the memory. If you're a forgetful sort, you may do a little better than those of us who have trouble forgetting. Then again, real pain has a way of sticking with even the most absent-minded.

So, we spend our lives mostly in pain, trust me this is true...the older you get the more people around you will kick the bucket, inflicting one pain after another, and that's assuming your life is otherwise perfect and death is the only bad thing you ever have to face. It won't be. But let's remember while this is a suicidal blog...jumping off the metaphorical bridge, no matter how much we may want to is not the goal here. We may be both betrayed and betrayers, but adding to the pain of those around you just to stop your own pain, is one of those ultimate painful betrayals to the people who give a fuck about your existence. And as I pointed out in my first post, even if you truly are physically alone in this world, for whatever reason, doesn't mean you always will be.

Full circle there. Trust again. To have anyone new enter our lives, we must be able to at least be open to the possibility, that there are other people on the earth that won't betray our trust. If we have betrayed and carry the guilt, we have to be open to the possibility that we are capable of learning from our mistakes, being good enough to not repeat them and therefore, still on some level, worthy of trust as well. Like I said before, I can't help you get to either of these points. Half the time, I feel like a rabid animal more likely to bite or run from an open hand, than accept that anyone but those who still have my trust, would possibly ever be a kind and trustworthy person without a hidden agenda.That's where both being betrayed and betraying bites you in the ass. No matter which end of it you find yourself on, you are now fully aware of just how much backstabbing pain you can receive or give. And if you can betray and you consider yourself a good person, so can any other "good" person. It amazes me, just how important trust is to us, as humans in order to not only connect, but also to survive.

We must trust those adults around us, as children to provide and protect, yet there are insidious "parents," all over the globe which do neither for their young. There we are again, "aware" of just what pain is possible, even from those who would dare attempt to play the role of "parent." If you have parents who provided and protected, be grateful. I am. Sure, they can damage, doubt there's a one of us walking around without "mommy" or "daddy" issues but if they didn't toss you in a dumpster or worse, be grateful. If they tried their best for you and you still find yourself on a suicidal blog, that's okay, too. They TRIED, be grateful. Chances are you have your own issues and how your parents treated/treat you is just a tiny piece of the pie of suck, that landed you here.

I have a long memory, some would say better than most and raw overwhelming emotion only heightens memory for me. So forgiveness is hard if not impossible for me. And like most I've been both a "good" person and a "bad" person. You would think when you fuck up, you'd be more understanding and likely to forgive those who fuck you over, wouldn't you? But it doesn't work that way. If you do a TON of soul searching, you can see how they messed up, why they messed up and maybe even technically or logically understand it, but it won't make it any easier to forgive them. All you truly end up doing is comparing. Your "sin" to their "sin". You are you and you know exactly why YOU did what you did, but no matter what your betrayers say, you will always wonder. They broke your trust, after all. Hurt you. How can you believe a word they say? You can't BE them, therefore you will never truly know why they did what they did. Psychology will tell you, we ALL have some motive for every thing we do. A REASON. Does knowing the motivation behind someone's betrayal help? It actually, does.

Case in point. A punk kid steals your ipod, just because, vs. a kid stealing food from a store to survive or feed someone they care about. Both stealing, but is there a difference in how you view the thieves? Sure there is, we're all judgmental asses, we can't help it. Even the most accepting people still judge others. Always comparing one thing to another. Human nature, how we learn. Comparison. Good vs. Bad. Safe vs. Danger. Really conservative types, will find the thieves to be equally "bad" the punk kid and the starving kid should both find a way to work for what they want/need. I'v never found myself comfortable in either "political" camp. Do I agree both thieves should find a way to earn what they want or need, yes. But am I more likely to forgive the starving child vs. the "just because" punk, answer to that is a resounding, YES, too. You must also remember, I gave those motives.

Let's switch it up. The ipod stealing kid is now a beaten and broken miserable child at home. He finds in the few rare moments he hears music, it brings him peace and escape from the hell in which he lives daily. (Which I personally can relate to, music saves many a broken minded person) Now, the staving child didn't steal from a store of plenty, he stole from the grocery bag of a single mom, busting her ass day and night, working multiple jobs to feed her own children. Motive makes a difference. So it helps to know WHY, someone else inflicts pain on us. Was it "just because" or did they have a reason you can understand or relate to? I have found if we can relate to the motives of others it does make LIVING with their betrayals easier. Empathy, which I will always advocate for, is helpful in finding a way to relate and understand the hurtful actions of others. Will it bring forgiveness? Not really. But if you can live with it, without that soul-wound erupting and spilling salt all over the very fiber of your raw being, you might learn to accept that person's, or another's open hand again. That's when we tentatively, "trust" again. I don't know about forgiveness, but the possibility of trusting again I find inevitable, if given enough time and being aware of motives helps in the comparisons needed to decide who is worthy of trust and who is not.

Eventually, you will regrettably get slapped again and have to repeat the process. That is merely the bitch of life. The Wheel spins, you will be up and you will be down. When you are happy, that dreaded feeling of waiting for the proverbial "other shoe" to drop will always be with you. And there is not a single damn thing wrong with expecting that shoe, it's always coming, for EVERYONE. That really common saying "Life sucks and then you die," is true. Sad, but true. Accepting it as fact blows, but knowing it's the same for absolutely every other living person and thing in the universe makes it a little easier to take, at least for me. Pain is relative, mine is nothing to you beyond sympathy or empathy, and vice versa. At least with empathy you can feel it, rather than just being passively understanding of it. Even those with empathy who can feel your pain and carry it with us, does not lighten your own burden. Your pain is still your own and you still have to carry it. So why would I advocate more empathy for others? Why would I tell you to suffer not just your own misery, but to feel and actually carry pieces of  other broken souls as well? Simple really, if you are strong enough to carry your own and a piece of everyone else's too, you will be less likely to intentionally hurt others with your actions. And we could all use less pain in our lives, could we not?

The patterns of life all seem to be circular. Up and down, round and round the wheel, karma, what goes around does indeed come right the hell back around. Does it mean we "deserve" everything good or bad that we get? Maybe, maybe not. The balance is there, however. No matter how good or bad someone has it, things always change in time. For better or worse, we must all merely survive the down to reach the up so we can fall again. If not for ourselves, then for those that care, those we care for. Do you really want to knock down everyone around you, that gives a shit, prematurely? If you have any empathy for them you certainly shouldn't be willing to make them face your death any sooner than they have to. And death comes for us all eventually. So for another day, suck it up with me. Yes, life sucks, yes death sounds damn near, too fucking good to ignore but if not for ourselves, for others, let's tough it out and try to keep the people around us from the downward spiral we ourselves are trapped in.

Point of the day, who ever said we could "trust," that death will be any easier? If it's even remotely life-like, death will bitch slap us all too. Keep that in mind as you push through, once again. The reaper we keep thinking of is likely a back-stabbing fuck just like everything else in life. Devil, you know and all...

Today's music. For the lift, try out TRAPT's "Living in the eye of the storm" and "Headstrong." For the wind down, cry it out to, STRAYS DON'T SLEEP "For blue skies." Yeah, really, cry if you want. I actually won't judge, that.        

WHY I AM CREATING A SUICIDAL BLOG

If I called it a homicidal blog, I'd already be rotting in a padded room in some fucking psych ward. 

I used to journal. Daily. Every single day I'd write in notebook after notebook. Just letting my brains splatter across the pages in various shades of ink and paper. Then I got a boyfriend, then I got married. Then the "mine is yours," bit me in the ass, because the one safe place I had to empty my overly active brain was no longer just mine. I've often tried to pick it up again when things got dark in life. Just knowing it could be picked up and read by another, even someone so close to me, as my own husband was enough to withhold thoughts even from my beloved notebooks. Well, things are dark again and have been for a very, very long time. So, I again, am trying to journal, trying to focus the insane energies and constant analyzing of my mind into NOT dying. Just one little hiccup there, you see, because on and off, all my 31 years of life and then constantly for about 6 months straight, dying is all I've truly wanted to do. 

The spelling of this blog's title is not an error. This blog is about suicide. Unfortunately, (sincerely, unfortunately) I'm not a selfish dumbass. My mind tends to split when it comes to this, life, death how it's all connected and the causes and effects of literally every little fucking thing in the universe. Therefore, it's spelled SUISIDE, because it's the suicidal side of me, that has once again, found a place to blow my torturous brains out in the form of "paper" and various shades of "ink." 

Tonight as I tried to continue my journaling endeavors to avoid self-injury or using the gun beside me, this is what I actually wrote:

June 2nd, 2015    

It's 2:30 in the morning, technically the 3rd, but who gives a shit? Just another day. I'm done. I'm so fucking done. Crying like a weak, stupid bitch over something as insignificant as Life. The disconnect from all I ever knew stopped life as I knew it, but only for me. Those behind have aged, moved on, lived. I have only grown older and older, with a wicked head start, inside and out. I keep praying and begging for some reason to live, to find happiness and I think of my husband. Our wrecked marriage, him being all that I am connected to and how that connection severed all others. How it has severed me from humanity as a whole. I do not feel like a person. I feel dead and alone, but I'm not with the dead I've loved and lost. If there was ever someone or something I was meant to be it's long since been yanked away from me. Evil fills the earth in every corner and in every way. It's in all of us. It's in me. 

That was the entry. Unfinished, surely, but through tears as I wrote it I already knew the direction I was heading in. A selfish direction, I've found myself heading in way too often of late. I suppose in time, my life's story will end up laid bare here, for all to see, unless I chicken out and delete the damn thing as I've done several other blogs in the past. However, this one may have a chance the others did not. It's personal. It's honest and it's real. When I decided to make this blog it was literally a page from my journal, made while writing it.Part need to connect with others, part need to stop myself from connecting with the reaper. The former is hard, people fucking suck in general. The latter, though, is ever enticing. 

I spent 3 hours on the phone with one of my best friends from back home the other night. I'd been too psychotic and mentally fucked up the prior six months to really speak with many of my family or friends for long on the phone, for fear they'd realize how far gone I really was. I knew what was wrong with me, it was not something that could be fixed, merely tempered with anti-depressants.

They didn't make me feel better they just kept the insanity fairly flat. I stopped taking them as soon as I thought the problem had left my system but just as your mind can trick you, so can the Depo shot. The tortures came in waves and while I stopped taking the meds that kept the waves from getting out of control about two months too early, I survived. And yet, here we are because I'm up in the middle of the night feeling alone and disconnected , once again wishing I hadn't.

Instead the logical self preserving side prevailed and I simply added a few hundred more scars on the body of a self-injurer that had started at the ripe old age of 12. I don't care about the scars, all but the worst will fade to near invisibility in time. Lucky break, I suppose, being damn near as pasty white as your own scar tissue.

I'm not a selfish being. And let's face it, suicide is selfish. But the logical side feared this other overwhelming emotional side. I'm not the cutting type that does it for attention or for numbness. I've always done it for the physical pain because it over-shadows emotional pain, giving temporary relief.

(note to self: long posts are for the laptop not the ipad...pain in the ass technology. For anyone this blog actually helps, be grateful I'm not in my usual mood of doing jack-shit.)

I digressed, back to that phone call. (Get used to the topic hopping, the SUISIDE of me as I've decided to call it, does that shit all the time.)She kept telling me I have a gift for talking to people, helping them. That I was wasting it, far from home and disconnected from my people. (By my people I refer to all those I share blood with and actually give a shit about and those that I've known since birth and consider just as close to me as blood. Don't be fooled by preconceptions of small circles of family and friends. I am by blood or bond a part of 5 equally HUGE and life long entwined families, whose prior two generations bred like rabbits. Granted, over the years even from such a giant tribe few today (40 or less, if I just took a wild guess) are still in my life in any way. Fewer still, if I remove the dead from the count.

I knew what my friend was talking about. From mid-teen up until I left home and via phone for a few years more, I played the role of friend and family therapist to any and all I cared about. Any problem, big or small, I fixed or found a way to fix and in those situations where no answers were to be had, I understood and comforted. I buffered conflict as well as caused it when the protective streak was stirred within me. Excess empathy I was apparently "gifted" with, allowed me to understand others easily. Love of words, written and sung in lyrical artistry made communication with others natural. The study of psychology, abnormal in particular sparked my interest early because humans as a whole are just so fucked up only the ignorant wouldn't be fascinated by the mind and all it's infinite depths and levels of insanity.

I dropped out of high school in 9th grade, after repeating the 8th. If education began and ended with traditional "schooling" I'd be a babbling moron. Rather than a fairly intelligent, if half insane, being. Far from a genius, but I did unlock my mind so that nothing is off limits. Books and self education is the only reason I can string two words together. I hated school, was tortured and bullied there, so I spent more time skipping class than studying anything. With books comes a key. More of the general population should use it. Really, get off the internet, put the game console away and READ some fucking books! While I'm on this little tirade I'll also point out it hurts like a mother fucker but it wouldn't kill more of you to try tapping into empathy either. Notice I said empathy, not sympathy. There is a difference folks. If you're still on facebook or tweeting look those definitions up while you're at it. I'll give the internet that much, in the hands of someone who wants to escape idiocy it's a great tool. Have question + Get answer = SMARTER YOU!

Doesn't beat books though, any jackass can write anything on the internet, so watch your sources people. Same goes for e-books, the hot new thing, again, any jackass. Case in point, myself included. Feel free to scoot on over to Amazon and read my first crappily (Yes, I make up my own words, too) formatted and still unedited book titled "Scorched"." A fiction YA book with too much cussing and too many touchy subjects for traditional YA publishing. Matter of fact, if you are smart enough to see layers, you'll notice a story under a story. Under the school massacre (touchy, touchy, tsk, tsk!) in the first chapter lies a story of EMPATHY, even for the worst of us.

This blog is about suicide, but not to encourage it. Only to give voice to all the emotions that fuel the dance with it. If you're waltzing with the other side or hearing the call of those long gone from your life, stick around, comment, write or crank up some tunes. It's daylight here and what do you know? I made it to another sunrise. With each post I'll try to leave you with a tune or two to check out. Music has saved my life more times than I can count. I'm passionate about artists that give back lyrically. If a song has ever saved your life, or put even the smallest sliver of light in that darkness surrounding you post it in the comments for me and others.

You never really know what can come of small kindnesses. So put them out there when you can. People like me, walking along the edge of life and death aren't always easy to spot. We often hide in the dark and plaster a "normal" façade for the world to see on our faces until it's too late. It might be you, or it might be your best friend or some other member of "your people."

Last note, if you're feeling suicidal and landed here because of whatever method you were researching, maybe you landed here for a reason. Stop digging. Use the thing between your ears and leave your shovel here. Somebody on this earth loves you, even if you don't know them, or they haven't entered your life yet. To all the young people who put their cries for help online and got tortured, bullied, encouraged and even talked into committing suicide online, I pray you found your peace and that the ones you left behind someday recover from your selfishness. I know the pain, but you have to make the logical side of your mind stronger than the emotional side. The logical side that saves your life is also the side that cares and has enough empathy for the people you'd destroy by your last act.

For every single worthless, piece of uneducated, dog shit excuse for a human that ever took part in pushing those kids into killing themselves, take your own shit advice. The whole WORLD is better off without 'things' like you in it. And the only thing for types like you on this blog, is a big FUCK YOU, please DO let the universe kick you in the ass on your way out. Karma's a mean bitch and she get's us all, one way or another. Hypocritical? Yup. Do I give a shit? Nope.

Those on the ledge with me, let's jam out to THRIING IVORY's "Angels on the moon" and TRAPT's "Too close" if you're feeling that disconnect and aren't quite ready to accept a kindred spirit. When you're ready to try letting people in again and find yourself where I am, just tentatively and cautiously trying to give new people a chance, check out TRAPT's "Are you with me."

Night all, see you on the flip side.
-Jesa