Putting Out the Lights
 

I arrived at work this morning to find that one of our field personnel, a guy named TD, had taken his own life yesterday, apparently over an impending divorce.

Although I didn't know him well, TD was, for all appearances, a very together, upbeat, go-getter of a fellow. He was always smiling, reliable, punctual - from the business perspective, a dream employee. He was, in fact, on the cusp of being given considerable new responsibility and self-determination in his position with us.

When someone like TD takes his own life, it starts a guy wondering...how does one get to that point? I used to never know myself. I was always amazed and dumbfounded that someone could commit suicide, and I was more than a little judgemental and critical of those who did. Then, fifteen years ago, my wife left me while our son was lying paralyzed in a hospital, on the verge of death. As the weeks wore on and I became more isolated, more fearful, wallowing in the throes of alcoholic depression and enormous feelings of inadequacy...I finally saw it. I had finally gotten close enough to the precipice that I could see over it. I understood completely how putting out my own lights could be a solution to my misery. I had reached the point where never feeling anything again might be preferable to feeling the way I had felt for so long.

I took my Ruger out of its case, loaded it, and looked at it for a long time. Then I thought about everyone I knew, my friends, my son...my future, bleak though it seemed. And I put it away. Nothing so dramatic as putting the barrel in my mouth or up against my temple. Nothing so close as a single twitch on the trigger to dispatch my suffering. But I *saw* it, for the first time, in my mind, as a possibility. And I never wondered again how people could take their own lives.

As a sort of memorial to TD - a man who, from my point of view, had much to live for - I wanted to open up this thread. I wanted to unload a part of what I've felt this morning and the thoughts that it brought home to me. But, moreover, I wanted to ask the rest of you, my Cellar family - have *you* ever stood on the edge yourself? Have you ever tried to step off the precipice? Has someone who was dear to you done so? Do you want to share the feelings and thoughts about it?

Embracing the unthinkable from time to time keeps us emotionally and mentally free, limber, unencumbered. And maybe, just maybe, sharing our hearts and minds on this topic here, in our safe online home, will help one of us step back from the edge.

I've never been there, no. But I can imagine it very clearly. If my wife was ever to leave me and take the kids, I would want to die. I probably wouldn't kill myself, because I'm responsible and wouldn't want to put that burden on my kids, but I would want to die.

I do judge people who commit suicide if they leave loved ones behind who depend upon them.

See the "do you take psych drugs" thread

I'm familiar with that edge. I've stood there looking over it before, and I'm sure I will be there again, as I'm only a stones throw from there right now.

It's an easy way out, one decision that ends them all. A decision that's easy to make for those of us that aren't depended upon and have few that would be hurt by our absence.

I can see how some might take the above in a worrisome light. But worry not, there's no danger today or even tomorrow. However the day after tomorrow, or the day after that? Come as it may.

I spent most of last year wanting to die. I simply couldn't believe I'd ever have the mental or emotional strength for a normal daily life again. I was incapable of doing anything for myself, and believed I would stay like this forever and be a burden on my parents at a time in their lives when they were about to take much-deserved retirement.

I even counted up how many people would attend my funeral, and figured as it was less than ten it probably wouldn't have much impact anyway.

I didn't get to the point of making a suicide attempt, but I did try to break my wrists/ arms on a couple of occasions, knowing I would have a valid reason to go to the hospital and there be able to confess my feelings of total despair.

I also went walking on a local park after midnight on three occasions, hoping I would be attacked - more or less for the same reasons (but with the added possibility that I might be killed rather than injured).

These were pathetic attempts and I offer more to illustrate my state of mind rather than compare them to Elspode actually having a gun in his hand.

Thoughts of my family didn't prevent me from making a more serious attempt, but they did prevent it from being a completely positive fantasy. I lived at home when my Nan died (Mum's mum) and was there to help her with all the funeral arrangements. The one thing that stuck in my throat was the idea of Mum having to prepare food for the my wake without an extra pair of hands there to help. Ridiculous as it sounds, this was a very real concern to me.

I spent 3 hours one night on the phone to the Samaritans. It got me through the worst of it. I also had a number my GP had given me for a crisis line at the hospital - I had the number keyed into my mobile and spent a couple of nights with my thumb hovering over the "call" button, telling myself I'd leave it another five minutes. I always felt terribly melodramatic in the mornings, but again it got me through.

I don't think that suicide is really seen as a way out - at least it's not how I saw it. It's a belief (acceptance perhaps) that you are simply not capable of living until the situation improves. It's not, "Oh I can't be bothered, I quit!" rather, "I'd rather not exist forever than bear this any longer"

Grant's quote by Richard Bach always draws me up short - doesn't he (Bach) realise that people contemplating suicide are already dying inside their own heads and that they would carry that with them wherever they went? The issue isn't usually practical problems, it's the way you feel about them.

Anyway, personal opinion based on my own experience for what it's worth.

I don't want to bring up any politics with this question, but did this raise the possibility of getting the gun out of the house? Possibly even temporarily?

Brave thread, by the way.

I've been to the edge a few times myself. Unfortunately I didn't step over because I saw what I had to live for. I didn't step over the edge because I was simply scared. Scared of the pain, scared of a possible afterlife, scared of failing.

My situation involved an abusive sibling, a well-meaning single father who worked nights and weekends and couldn't quell the bottled hurricane that was my brother, and a lack of self-esteem on my part to effect any change.

It's been almost ten years since the abuse started. Three years after going our separate ways, I'm still convalescing. I've suppressed my feelings for so long, it's been theraputic typing them out on these forums to sort of air them out and get some semblance of closure.

Kind of as an aside, an economics professor I had a few years ago once lectured on the economics of suicide. It was quite an interesting lecture to say the least; fully realized as a discipline and fully rational.

No. Once I put it away that night, I knew I wouldn't do it. Besides, there's lots of ways to kill yourself. I still had a car and a garage. That's how TD did it.

My g/f has tried to top herself a couple of times. She's currently going through a tough phase in her marriage and my worst fear is that she'll succeed the next time she tries.

When my mum had cancer I euthenased her. She didn't want to live any more and the pain was too much. So that was that.

My Dad's Father did it when my Dad was 12. Fucked him up pretty bad.

I'd counsel against it.

Been 2 steps from the edge, but not the one step. Honestly, I think it was thoughts of not having a shot at revenge,that kept me from getting closer.

Have been 1 step from murder, however. I'm not detailing that.:headshake

I got dumped by my (current best friend) Savannah (who actually joined here for like, three days) two and a half years or so ago, and since no teenager has ever been dumped at thirteen years old before, i was... really, really fucked up. I cut some, I did some stupid shit, and came pretty close to the edge.

Suffice it to say, I got over being a dumbass relatively quick. However, considering I've prettymuch thrown away my whole life here for Caro, and shes just about all i've got but my guitar... I'm not even going to think about what would happen if SHE dumped me.

I recommend taking up the drums as well, and then finding another girlfriend. Try to skip the nasty drug habits in between if you can.

Spend a lot of time there... just not an option. I have a wife and son, they need me. It is not my place to make that decision for them.
Plus, I think it is a coward's choice.

Coming from someone who deals with what you deal with, that is a brave thing indeed, my friend. Fighting the good fight is never easy. Know that you have a family here who cares and admires you for your convictions and strength, man.