Endgame...

The spate of suicides we’re hearing about has added an edge to the current environment and I suppose the outpouring of emotion is also colored by our own exigencies.

Each of us is trying to rally on and believe that there is a swift end to the unreal world we exist in the now.

That there is a reason for this; from God’s wrath, Karma’s troth, Nature’s retribution and Conspiracy attribution.

Rationalizations we indulge in make sense to each of us uniquely based on our filters and perceptions.

Much as we’d like to extol our fatalistic and accepting virtues, mere mortals that we are rally against the eventuality of dying.

Among the most celebrated poems on death the one that stays with me is Dylan Thomas’s:

“Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”

Says much about our humble acquiescence!

We’re posting on social media about reaching out and being there for each other while trying to make sense of the suicides. I even received a call this morning from an ex colleague after a decade!

Kudos to the lovely gestures, here’s my two bit. I cannot swallow all the time, need to spit too. Well actually gargle. One of my loony friends believes that the expression of true love is not swallowing but gargling. So there you go.

While we’re passing judgments on SSR and lending a ear to those who may need it, let’s ask ourselves if we find it easy to reach out?

The dark night and the burden of its dead weight is the yoke my shoulders are insidiously granulating under

Desolate seems the landscape of morrow

Dying by the minute is the beacon of the lighthouse

Rally on you say and…why?

Walked a meter in my shoes have you?

Ever been the melted marshmallow in my s’more?

Judge if you must if it's cowardice or bravado…

I decide when my race is run

And with a slit of my wrist, the deed is done

Hello people… the above is NOT a avowal of intent NOR plea for sympathy, empathy, pathi and all that bull crap.

It’s an honest recant of how I feel sometimes and I’m not very sure of how many people have in certain times in their lives felt the same. 

Maybe my conviction was not very strong and that’s what stopped me or maybe I grew tired of my own drama and said to myself, ‘shake it off you little f*ck’ and perchance it’s my keeda that said, ‘oh but you have so much more havoc to wreak’. 

Playing out my funeral in my head has helped as well (I have cried such bitter tears for me in that coffin than anyone ever will for sure!) as I have imagined my parents and children’s countenances and ditched the grand plans.

Ah back to suicide, depression is an illness and let’s not discount that. Is it easy for someone to reach out to a friend or an acquaintance, may not be so. 

Have you been a friend who has been nonjudgmental, accepting and evoked a deep sense of faith and trust? 

Could I randomly call you with all that assails me? 

Will you call me when you’re in the dumps? Do you think I will hear and help? 

Will you feel foolish like I do? 

Are you afraid that you will be laughed at or worse a topic for gossip?

Does the admonishment or lecture you are likely to get stop you?

When your friend begins to isolate, rather than allowing your ego to chafe, maybe watch for other signals of depression and get them to accept medical help. 

Similar with us as individuals, when you recognize that you don’t have your game together, reach out to gossamer strings that bind your soul and towards professional help. 

It’s an illness like all other and if we can have no qualms about talking about a visit to the physician, why balk at an appointment with a psychologist/ psychiatrist.  

Finally, let’s stop passing judgement on the decisions people make, to live or die. To each his own.