Suicide Is Not Painless

Dear Readers,

The world watched and waited with bated breath as Brittany Maynard bravely took her own life.

The world cheered her 'death with dignity' act.
Then some of us caught on to what we were cheering for.

Suicide.

In the last two months, three local young men took their lives.  One of them was the son of one of my mother's dearest coworkers.  My mother has been doubly troubled over the ripple-effect from that young man's tragic choice.  I have listened to but a few angry resentful comments of a friend who lost a loved one recently, and I have wished I could do more than listen to ease her pain.  I have heard from and talked with two friends who contemplated suicide themselves.  One of them tried and failed, thank God.
We've all been there.  Some of us moved out.  Some of us still dwell in the valley of the shadow of death.
I'm one of them.  
Do you, dearly specific reader, remember the time you said the youth group was too close, and something needed to change to get people to think outside the box about their lives?  I remember knowing that person should've been me.  I didn't fit in.  I didn't belong.  I should've left.  I wanted to leave, and if I died, I didn't care.  

Did those words haunt you when she died a few months later?  I remember looking at you that night just a few hours after she died, crying on the couch and blowing your nose with the toilet paper that was available.  I remember your words perfectly because I was thinking of them then.  I remember thinking that it should have been me.  I remember thinking that if it had been me instead of her, you wouldn't have been in such pain.

I'm now thinking about that as I write.  Almost ten years later, and I'm still thinking about it.  No one ever knew what was going on inside of me.  No one really ever bothered to ask.  I carried it with me for years.  I did not expect to live past 16.  When I did, I thought I would die before 21.  Something about that number.  I didn't ever believe I'd be 23 years old.  At 22, when it dawned on me that I was going to live longer than I thought I would, I looked back and realized that I knew more about what I wanted at my funeral than I did my own wedding.  I had spent that long preparing and even looking forward to death.

So I started to live.
I took chances.  I tried new things.  I became a groupie.  For the first time in forever, I sang.  I listened to music.  I picked up my instruments and played.  I drew.  I colored pictures again.  I wrote.  I took roadtrips.  I saw things.  I sat in the sunshine and enjoyed it.  I fell in love and loved deeply.  
All of those are memories now.  Just memories.

Eventually, the plans for funeral arrangements replaced dreams of DJs, decorations, and liturgies.  I tried on white lace shirts wistfully, thinking of the wedding gown I believed I'd never get a chance to wear.  I listed songs I wanted played at my funeral.  Day by day, I dreamed of dying and how I would do it.  Oh, if only some miraculous death would consume me.
Then tonight, something changed.

I went to a cookout with a group people I met through a coworker.  We almost set ourselves on fire.  We sang "Frozen" karoke from an allegedly straight man's cell phone.  We utterly demolished our dignity at each other's expense for the sake of a good, hearty, ooops-I-peed-myself-a-little laugh.  Someone might have done a little more damage than just wetting themselves.  We built bridges.  We bonded.  We lived.  

Together.
As I drove home, fondly reflecting on the evening, the shadows kept back in.  I didn't fight them - I have long since given up my will to fight the shadows anymore - and I entertained the dark thoughts of dying and my funeral.  What would people say?

Tonight was the first time that it occurred to me that these people might actually show up and have something to say.  For the first time, I thought about what they might say, and I realized it was closer to the truth than I had hoped:
"Sarah always prayed for me."

"She made time to be there for me."

"She worked really hard to pull off this one thing this one time, and it was pretty cool."

"Sarah knew how to make us laugh."

"I can't believe we only knew her for a few months, but she was really one of us."
"I absolutely hated her.  She ruined one episode of Doctor Who for me."

"Doctor Who-Cares, man...  Make like Frozen and let it go."

"Spoken like a true Milikin man, dude..."

"GUYS!!!  CAN WE JUST FOCUS ON THE DEAD PERSON HERE???"

...no these people truly are not ever allowed to speak at my funeral.  Ever.  Just.  No.
So scratch off that idea.
Back on topic.
Whenever I think of killing myself, I make the plan, my mind's about made up, and then I see these faces.  There's about a dozen of them, and they change every time.  A few are constant and remain there, as they have for several years.  Then I think about what I wish would happen in my death.

I'd be free, yes, but free from what?  What would I want my death to say?

"Ha, now you have regrets.  Remember that time you could have been with me and you chose not to be?  Bet you wish you'd picked up the phone more now.  Bet this is going to be one big huge regret you'll never live down."

Then I think of the faces that I see...  For some, I'm taking away a source of endless laughter.  For others, I'm taking away a constant and consistent friend.  For others, I'm taking away support and comfort and fellowship.  And I realize that, in taking my own life, I'm creating that kind of regret myself.  I'm taking time and chances away from people that I love.  I'm making regrets for them that I never want them to have.  I'm not just ending things for me, I'm ending things for them, too.  I'm hurting the people I love in ways I never truly wanted.  When I choose death over life, I choose pain over comfort, sickness over health, sorrow over joy, and sin over healing.

Suicide is just choosing a death of regrets over a life of love.

Tonight made me realize...  I have spent so many years trying to be beautiful for you that I never took the opportunity to revel in the beauty that I was.  I could never be happy in life because I was reaching for something I thought I could only achieve in death.  Ironically, when I killed that desire, when I died to that ambition, I achieved the peace I thought I'd never get, and I found what I was looking for.  Whoever binds his life will loose it, and whoever looses his life will find it.  I've thrown my life away for years and it never gave me peace.  When I threw the real motivation away, I found life.

Each morning you wake up is another chance to live your life free of those regrets.  It's a new day, a new chance, an opportunity for redemption.  Make something new with it.  Smile because there are others who wouldn't have a reason to smile themselves if it weren't for yours.  Sing because it might be the only music someone hears that day.  Dance, even if you're the only one, because joy needs to be in the world.  Laugh like there's no tomorrow, because for some, there won't be, so give it all the mirth you can.  Hug because an embrace not only reaches the body but the soul.  Love with all your heart, because it is the balm that heals the world.
Think of the faces in your life each day...  The faces that you wouldn't be able to live without...  Those are the faces you'd otherwise leave behind.  Those are the faces that love you.  Those are the faces you love.  Is a little peace and dignity really worth causing all of them pain, saying, "I don't love you enough to fight for all the time I can with you"?  Is it really worth burning that many bridges, destroying that many hearts, rending that many souls?  I guess Johnny Mandel was wrong when he wrote those lyrics.  At everyone's funeral, there's at least one crying face.  Most people are blessed to have more than one.
Maybe you don't have those faces.  
Maybe you just don't think you do.
Maybe you just need to smile and discover those faces for yourself.
I hope you do.  I pray you do.  Everyone needs a face that they see at the end of it all.  Maybe your face will be mine.  If you need it, let me know.  I'd love to be that face for you.  You're worth it.  You're worth the fight.  You're worth the time.  You're worth the love.  You are worth it.
And maybe, just maybe, you are just as much me as you are anyone else.  We've all been there.  But we are not alone.  We were never meant to be alone.  This is why suicide is not painless - there are always going to be others that are affected and hurt by the tragedy of your choice.  There will be a crying face at your funeral, whether you believe it or not.  You're not alone.  
I'm not alone.

The Lord is my shepherd.
Even though I have desires, I am not in want for any need.
You provide for me and make those who yearn for my destruction witnesses to your mighty provision.
You anoint me with chrism oil.  The chalice of mercy and grace overflows.
You lead me beside still waters.  
You refresh my spirit.
You lead me through paths of truth and justice, mercy and love, for Your name's sake.
Even though I live in the valley of the shadow of death, I am not afraid of it, because You are with me.
You let me nap in the sunshine on a swing to enjoy the warmth and green grass.
Surely the Lord's goodness and mercy will rescue me,
And I will one day dwell in His presence forever.

You are loved more than you know.  You are worth every bit of it.  You are not alone.  Neither am I.
So let's do this together.

Sincerely, 
Choose Life