Today is Sunday which means that it’s time to do a wrap-up of everything I did this week but I’m going to put that off because today I got an email from a friend of mine in the hospital. His name is Jon and if you read the comments then you kind of know him. He’s funny, and smart and a hysterical man who sends nude Christmas cards of himself to his grandmother (who only complained because they’re both Jewish). He’s one of us and a few days ago he tried to kill himself. Why? Because he’d fallen down a black hole. He emailed me because he knew I “can understand how it gets when we suddenly become overwhelmed by the hostility and inhumanity of the world“. And I can. I wish I didn’t. But as I emailed Jon back I thought about how lucky I am that I’m able to email him and yell at him for doing something so stupid. The world would be a colder place without him. If you’re considering suicide, know that your loss will be one that leaves a hole in the lives of so many people, including mine. You are important. You are special. You are not replaceable.
Jon said he’d be reading the blog if he could bribe his nurse to access the internet again and so I’m leaving a copy of my email to him here because I want him to see it, and I want you to see it too because it’s important:
Oh Jon, You made me cry. I do understand. Completely. And if I was there I would hug you and then slap you. Because suicide isn’t an option. If I don’t get to do it then no one does. Those are the rules. And also, when people commit suicide I get suicidal so next time you even think of it you need to remember that I have a whole host of drugs here that I shouldn’t even be allowed to be by. I’m dangerous so I need you to be sane. No pressure.
You bring light and laughter into the universe and there is far too little of that here to begin with. Remember that picture you sent me of you as a naked reindeer wearing only a single Christmas sock? I still have it. I don’t keep all my emails. Only the funny ones. You are special and I’m not just saying that.
This too shall pass. I promise. And if you try to commit suicide again I will cut you. Unless you tried by cutting your wrists. Then I’ll just punch you and yell a bit while I wrap your favorite shirt around your wrists. There. You just ruined your favorite shirt with your blood, Jon. This is why suicide sucks. We all lose. We lose our favorite shirts.
Love,
me
PS. This is the worst letter ever but I know you’ll understand it. And this is exactly the reason why you must get better and carry on. There are far too few people in the world that I can send sarcastic emails to while they recover from a suicide attempt in a psych ward.
Don’t let me down, Jon. The world needs you.
Comment of the day: The Black Hole engulfs many. I spent 3 hours one afternoon when I was 53 years old, trying to figure out how to commit suicide without my children knowing it was suicide. The younger one was still in high school. What saved me? Anger. To be hoodwinked by the liar that is major depression does not make you a lesser person. It can happen to almost anyone in the right circumstances. Get mad enough to blow up the world, and then get silly, and then get joyful. You have the right. Love to all who have been down this road and who know others who have been down it. There IS a way out. ~ Beth