In the going on 3 years now since Ian's suicide I've formed varying
opinions on the act itself. Just like with his addiction and how I
became obsessed with understanding addiction, such is the same with his
suicide.
Went to therapy, watched documentaries, read books,
joined support groups, mulled it over in my spare moments of having time
to think.
I'm conflicted. If someone wants to die, it should be
their choice... but it gets complicated when you start to think about
the "why" they want to die. Someone with a terminal illness, the why is
pretty clear - wanting to die before you become completely unable to
care for yourself and not wanting to burden your family. I've always
wanted to interject there and say.. "well what if they find a cure, or a
treatment that makes life more comfortable or manageable in the month
after you decided to pass" - I'm full of hope for such things and often
disappointed.
It's those same what if type of questioning that
torture me about Ian. And I question if I'm being selfish about being
so affected by his death. Am I more sad about the fact that he isn't
here to comfort me when I need it, or am I more sad that he felt so low
that he felt he had no other way of escape. why do the two have to
compete?
We comfort ourselves by saying.. at least he's not in
pain anymore... mental and emotional pain can be just as bad as physical
pain.. perhaps even more-so because it's harder to substantiate...
When
I was younger I used to cut myself because that pain is the kind of
pain that made sense to me - I could see it...it helped me and turned
into a comforting act to relieve the metaphysical suffering... that is
long past me now, I've learned other more healthy coping mechanisms - I
even exposure tested myself after Ian's suicide by leaving a shard of
broken glass by the bedside for a good solid month and it was never put
to use.
I can't remember a lot of the time in those first few
months following - it was all a shock response, insomnia, only able to
eat toast, gut wrenching crying, sobbing through therapy and apparently
fixated on the imagery - then all of a sudden every movie I watched
included someone taking a bullet to the head at their own hand - it was
everywhere without me seeking it... people putting two fingers to their
head at work and pulling the invisible trigger out of frustration...
panic attacks, dreams of "saving" him or him being "alive" and having to
wake up and face reality all over again.
I often question
myself, would I be less bothered had it been a less violent method?
There was a time lapse on the death certificate, did he suffer? was it
not instant?
So many questions that will never be answered - and
the only thing I know for sure.. I will never be the same...never. But I
need to find a way to be better than I am right now.. I'm sinking
inside while just barely functioning on the outside.