Three too many

[mrissa]

Stephanie was our butterfly-girl. Delicate, fine-boned, soft-voiced. Sometimes her younger sister would get frustrated with her fluttering. When she felt safe, she would share poems she'd written and music she liked. She was gentle and encouraging with other people's dreams. With mine. We retreated from the noise of a block party once when we were teenagers and sat on my bed and talked for hours.

Jason had a big boomy bass voice before the other boys in our class. He had broad, strong hands -- a man's hands, even when we were in junior high -- and broad shoulders. Mandy and I teased him mercilessly. He got frustrated -- especially with Manda, whom he'd known since they were tiny -- but he liked it, too. It was a frustration that made sense to him, I think.

I always wanted to touch Dave's hair -- it was so black and shiny, and most of my other cousins were fair like me. The aunties told the story about how he'd called the judge a "jugs" when he went to get adopted into our family. It was the sort of little kid cuteness they liked. Later they brought up his music, his interest in biochemistry, with a little more hesitation. He rassled with the little cousins smaller than me, played volleyball with the bigger ones. He was always there. He wanted to show me off to the neighborhood kids for being so clever, his clever little cousin. Later I think he just wanted to see how my world went, since it was such a different world than his.

I see them all in my head, how they might have been if they'd made it this far, if it hadn't all become too much for them, if they hadn't ended their own lives. I see all sorts of different ways things could have gone -- jobs, relationships, hobbies. Things that would fit them for life, things they would discard after a week or a month or a year. All the possibilities, gone. They didn't feel like there were any. I can't agree.

One of you made a locked post tonight about how you would do it if you followed them. Thank you for making that post. I truly do appreciate it, as much as it upset me, because you gave me the chance to say something, to let you know that you mean a lot to me, that things will change -- the world is full of change. That it would hurt like hell for a lot of people if you did it, and I know because I've been there before. I've gotten that phone call before, three times before my quarter-century mark, and damned if I want to do it again. Damned if I want it to be someone closer.

If you're in that situation -- if you made that post tonight, or if you thought about it and didn't -- please give me or someone else the chance to say something. Even if it's not good enough, even if it doesn't change your mind. You're not alone, and you're not without options. Please. Keep talking.

Comments

[miz-hatbox.livejournal.com]

I will keep your friend in my thoughts and prayers. I don't know who he or she is, but I will pray that they find some way to keep going. There is always a chance for things to get better.

[mackatlaw.livejournal.com]

When you are in a tiny box, it's hard to see outside. Sometimes only the thought of how your family would feel stops you. The world shrinks down around you to a closely-wrapped cloak of pain, and muteness, and you can't take it off to see the outside world. It's still there, but when you can't feel it, it almost might as well not exist.

I understand. Oh, I understand.

I'll pray for your friend. I know God has a solution for each of us, there has to be, isn't there? I refuse God is cruel or doesn't listen to us. Somewhere there is an answer.

Mack

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Ummm. That's a big one.

So. What do I believe about God, fundamentally, first and foremost? I believe that God is love. What this means to me here is that we should show love to those who need it, even or perhaps especially when it's hard for them to see it in the tiny box. We are to remind them that their loss would diminish us all, and we are to remember that their pain diminishes us, too, and try to help and encourage as best we can when our loved ones are still around to appreciate it.

Compassion varies by situation. Some situations are more reasonably untenable than others. I don't believe in a God who will always step in and make things all right again. But I do believe that showing love to other people matters profoundly.

God and what you believe

[mackatlaw.livejournal.com]

I am too tired to respond to this now with the thought it deserves.

But I'm going to.

Hugs,
Mack

God (showing love to tothers)

[mackatlaw.livejournal.com]

I like the answer you told me once where you said that God should always equal love, that if you substitute God or Jesus in a sentence with the word love, you come up with the same meaning. (At least, I remember you said that).

I'm teaching Sunday school after Labor Day to fifth and sixth graders at my church. It boggles my mind slightly, but I was called and so I will do my duty, and take up the opportunity. Someone I respect in the church and the community asked me to teach, and I thought about it, then called her in a few days to say yes. Would I have agreed to teach if someone who wasn't another lawyer asked? I don't know. But we have a curriculum, and a book, and I know I can do it. The beautiful thing that I don't have to, am not supposed to, air all my doubts the way I would in a Bible study group of my peers, or an adult Sunday school. I can teach the message as best as I can understand, and help others by showing love. I know I have my own doubts, that I'm pulled to Buddhist philosophies and I argue and struggle with theology and Christian doctrine. But I can explain it! I can talk about how God is love. So I shall and I will do my best.

Sometimes when I show compassion to others I feel better, especially when I do it without thought of myself. That's so hard sometimes when I don't have much to give, or feel I don't. But sometimes I find I have more or I appreciate more when we give, and even if I don't... I did the right thing, or a good thing, and that was reason enough. It's difficult sometimes to know how selfish I am, and how hard it is to overcome that.

I don't think God will step in and fix everything either in this life, or that God doesn't give you more than you can handle. He created the world, or caused it to be (the Prime Mover, call it what you will), and entropy was built into the world. I'm not sure if we could have free will if we didn't have it. I think God does help, or at least I want to believe that so I do.

Anyway. That's what came to mind when you wrote that. Thank you for reminding me to show love to other people: I should always do that.

Mack

Re: God (showing love to tothers)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Fifth and sixth graders can be great fun: old enough to ask interesting questions, young enough to tell the truth even when it's not what you want to hear (sometimes). My dad taught sixth grade Sunday School for nearly thirty years, and his sixth graders would say things like, "Well, I know the right thing to do here would be forgive him, but I'd still hit my brother." Seventh graders would mostly say, "Oh, no, I would never hit my brother, I would forgive him."

One of the things I like best about trying to show love in the world is that it holds up even if I'm wrong and there isn't a God. I can't see a way I would come to regret doing it.

[(Anonymous)]

Actually everyone IS alone. Always.

I started to say how cruel it is to tell someone that they should not think about their own relief, but should suffer just to make others happier.

But then I understood that everyone has the right to ask for not feeling pain and for peace of mind. Just like the ones who did not talk but acted had the right to do what was best for them.

Aet

[greykev.livejournal.com]

Actually everyone IS alone. Always.

I sorrow for your bleak perception of reality.

I agree that an individual has the right to end his or her life. That person can also choose to share his or her life with others, at which point it becomes courteous to notify them one is choosing to die.

Some people will value your presence whether or not you choose to share your life with them. They may possess perspectives or supply options which make continuing to live seem a better option than dying. If one doesn’t announce the intent to die these others are unlikely to share their perspectives and/or options.

Even from a purely individual perspective I feel that it makes more sense to speak with others about this choice than it does not to.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Kev. Yes.

I didn't say, "Tell me so I can have the police break down your door and have you restrained and/or put on 24-hour professional suicide watch." I said, "Give me a chance to say something." Which is different.

[buymeaclue.livejournal.com]

I will not sniffle at work. I will not sniffle at work. I will--oh, all right. Sniffling at work.

Thank you.

[karenmkk-610.livejournal.com]

I agree thanks for this. I was shocked when I heard about Stephanie and Jason. I too have felt somewhat like that but never bad enough to actually do something about it, and hopefully it will never get that bad again, very well said and I agree with greykev, it makes more sense to try to talk to people first.

[mkille.livejournal.com]

That it would hurt like hell for a lot of people if you did it

That's what stopped me. The hurting people, and also the inconveniencing people.

to let you know that you mean a lot to me, that things will change -- the world is full of change

Sometimes one learns the lesson that different doesn't ever turn out to mean better, and it seems impossible to keep giving the world chances to prove that lesson wrong.

Prayers for your friend.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I tried this once before, and it only posted a quote of your middle sentence about the lessons, not my response, so let me try again.

I can't promise that things will get better. I can't promise anybody that. It's not within my power. I refuse to lie to people who are in a fragile state -- it seems like it's more damaging than helpful. But if I can get specific people talking about specific changes, we can sometimes get around to what will change and how we can try to get it to change for the better instead of the worse. Or even a discussion of what better would look like. And that's sometimes productive, and sometimes worth doing.

"It'll all get better" is, for me, a lie on a par with "if you kill yourself, Jesus will turn his face from you and you will rot in eternal torment": don't believe it, can't say it, find it somewhat repugnant.

I never guarantee that I'll be able to change people's minds if they talk to me about wanting to kill themselves. I do guarantee that I will be honest with them, that I will do my best to provide caring perspective, and that I will respect their experience (and not say things like, "but don't you see that it'll all get much better very soon?" when clearly they don't "see" any such thing). It may not be enough, but it's what I can do.

[mkille.livejournal.com]

It may not be enough, but it's what I can do.

And it's not a small thing, what you can do. I hope it didn't sound like I was giving a critique.

But if I can get specific people talking about specific changes, we can sometimes get around to what will change and how we can try to get it to change for the better instead of the worse.

The sticky bit can be learning not to see changes for the better as more than just the setup for a bigger change for the worse.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yes, I know that's the sticky bit. I've done this before. It's just that I don't know any better way to do it, so I keep trying this way, and sometimes it even works, for some values of "works."

[mkille.livejournal.com]

Like I said, I didn't mean for it to sound like a critique. I don't know a better way either.

[kythiaranos.livejournal.com]

*sigh*

I'm glad you wrote that.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you are. Thanks for saying so.