I was thrust into darkness. Not a road chosen nor a road any would choose. My road was paved in the overwhelming depression of others. A choice to change her life. A choice that triggered and scared me. So I learn to walk this path that insists I surrender and accept what is. In the midst of this an ex-boyfriend dies of alcohol poisoning. Then a day before I go on silent retreat, the suicide of a woman who turned to me, among others, for help. Her dark places made me sick and I found I could not help her. So I guided her to others who were available to her. But she decided to stop being.
I went on retreat last weekend, afraid of the aloneness I might feel. Afraid of the darkness that suicide awakens in me. Here's what I found:
~I searched for aloneness and aloneness could not be found. I cannot be alone. Everything around me is alive: God in the air, the darkness, the trees, the clouds, the sunshine, the dandelions, the bees, the lizards, the people in their cars down in the valley. It's not possible for me to be alone. And me: this person who is me. I cannot separate from me. Luckily, she's cool. She likes the things I do, like silent retreats, thinking deeply on things, nature, animals, helping people. How can I be alone when Kristin is always here?
Discovering my fear of loneliness unfounded,
~I searched out my dread of suicide. Much of what I struggle with is feeling like she chose something so dark and awful that it scares me. I'm afraid of the places on this earth that are this dark. Then it occurred to me that I don't have to dwell there. Once I clear up any guilt or other feelings brewing inside me, I can choose to stop thinking about her choice. I do this in part by realizing that she had the right to do whatever she wanted with herself. All I can do now is accept what is. I choose to try to see suicide differently. I'm not done figuring out what that "different" looks like. But for today I don't need to be so afraid of it. For today I can allow her the choice she made. I can pray for her and for me and for all who still suffer.
These things are helping me to breathe. My heart still hurts. I allow my pain to speak to me. I breathe life into the painful places. I am still with my God. And I accept to the best of my ability life as it presents itself today.
