A little over a year ago, a friend of mine took his own life.
I could never have anticipated the manner in which this has affected me. As for our mutual friends: I cannot speak for them, but if I were to do so I would say that each and every one of them has been impacted beyond words.
Having experienced suicide from this outside perspective, I might say that I would never do such a thing because of how those who love me would suffer.
But that would be a filthy lie.
Depression doesn’t play fair. It places a heavy bias on your mind and in your heart. It tells you that you are not worthy and that others would indeed be better off without you. It blocks out any trace of positivity more effectively than the moon eclipses the sun.
There are no guarantees. Not even four years ago, depression convinced me that anyone could have been a better mother to my daughter; that it would be best if I disappeared from her (and everyone’s) life forever.
Today, I am thankful to be alive.
To anyone who thinks that suicide is selfish: you simply do not understand the nature of the beast.
The thoughts of the sufferer become contorted by depression – so much so, that they literally believe that they are doing the world a favour by removing themselves.
Each and every one of us would have tried to stop him.
Would it have been enough? There’s not much point in wondering. Many times, though, the answer to that is no. It’s not about what others tell you; it’s about how you feel. And in Adam’s case, it was also about how his circumstance was neglected by our health system but that’s an indepth topic for another day.
Adam is still with us, but it’s not the same. How could it be? He has no body, for one. We scattered the remains in a beautifully heavy ceremonial fashion. Immediately following, he manifested as a winged creature that I now have tattooed on my hand in an effort to never forget (as if I ever could).
He still shows himself to me every now and again. As much as I do miss him, having a corporeal companion is beyond cool.
He has been guiding me and I have no doubt that this is the case for every last one of his loved ones. He is here with me now, as I write.
It’s been a while.
Adam chose death, but he compels us all to choose life. Those were, in essence, his parting words and those are his words now.
He brought us all closer with his passing, and he will bring us much more over time if we are open to him. He is not lost forever and is indeed still among us on another plane.
As cool as it is to receive these ethereal messages, I want to communicate with the rest of my loved ones in the flesh for as long as possible. I know I am doing my damndest to survive this cruel and unusual plague that we call mental illness.
I’m going to make it, and I am going to bring you all with me.
I do want to be.