By Our Own Hand

I read with great sadness earlier today the Blog entry of a fellow WDC family member... it spoke of a good friend of the writer's young daughter having committed suicide. And why did she resort to this irreversible, bleakest of options? Over a break-up with a man, for God sake.

Thoughts of suicide, though usually only in passing and not at all seriously entertained, cross nearly everyone's mind at some time or another. Many pronounce it an act of courage - others, an act of cowardice. Except, perhaps, in instances of terminal illness or injury and "dying with dignity", end-of-life-type circumstances, some regard suicide as a "cop out" - and, to take it to the extreme, even a deadly sin or crime against our Creator. Others view it as a drastic avenue of escape from psychological pain. Speaking for the "shades of grey" folks with whom I stand on the topic, I'd have to say that I regard the act, exclusive of the "dying with dignity" situations, as reflective of elements on both ends of the spectrum.

But the taking of one's own life is often also an act of incredible thoughtlessness... one born of such epitomical, tunnel-visioned focus upon oneself and only oneself as to wholly exclude contemplation of what its lifelong, devastating impact is certain to be upon others. Like the pebble tossed into still waters, the ripples of suicide issue forth in abundance and travel far and wide. Those ripples are destined to touch many - often, including the lives of people the suicidal individual never knew. Now we are seeing even pre-teens, teens, and young adults resort to suicide in alarmingly increasing numbers in addition to an already disturbingly high suicide rate among adults and seniors.

I have known despair, fear, utter hopelessness, and the keenest physical and psychological kinds of pain, and I don't embrace the concept that committing suicide sentences the soul to hell and damnation. But I do believe that to seek escape by taking my own life would constitute a slap in the face of the God I believe in, and by whose Hand my existence was given to me. When an individual takes his or her own life, the bottom line is that for a variety of reasons, they've opted for escape - and a final assertion of complete domination and control over at least one thing... their own mortality.

In the line of several of my careers, I've become involved in many instances of attempted and/or "successful" suicides - and a reluctant, saddened witness to the aftermaths they wrought. The victims have not "punished" only themselves - they've punished their survivors in the most brutal of ways. From family members and friends to acquaintances, emergency responders, and caregivers...and sometimes, complete strangers - these are the people who bear the brunt of what quintessentially numbers among the most selfish acts of all. Regardless of the reasons prompting the act, none are sufficient to justify the monumental pain, sorrow, and suffering suicide leaves in its terrible wake. When you seek to kill yourself, so too, are you risking killing a part of each of us you leave behind. Even when everything is black and terrible and life, it seems, could absolutely get no worse... that is when it is most crucial to hang on. When no one appears to see or care... it is only that they do not know. Somewhere, someone always will... and it's never too late, nor unworthy of the effort, to seek them out and count on them. We are all in this together...and when one among dies by our own hand, a part of all of us goes with them to the grave.