Being My Own Muse

Warning: This post discusses suicidal ideation and suicide.

Writing has been incredibly difficult for me this year. I’m lucky if I can make sense of the thoughts in my head, let alone put them down in a way that someone else will understand. I bemoaned that my muse was either taking a leave of absence or had died. Months have gone by, and there is no muse. So, I’m going to be my own muse.

                             

2017 was an especially difficult year for me, and between then and now, I have become increasingly isolated. There are times when this feels completely natural and others when I struggle with it. I’m pretty good company for myself, after all, but sometimes you need contact with others.

The recent news of the suicides of two high profile people—Kate Spade and Anthony Bourdain—affected me. This isn’t because I was a big fan of their work, although I was rather fond of Bourdain, so much as the fact that it reminds me of how many suicides we don’t hear about, because the countless other people who’ve taken their lives weren’t famous figures. But I’m also sensitive to this issue because I’ve struggled with suicidal ideation myself since childhood.

We look at these successful people, we hear about the love they share with their family and friends, and we wonder what could have pushed them to suicide. I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but as someone who does have a lot of love in her life and who has her physical health, a fairly steady income and the necessities of life (as well as some luxuries) that come with that, I can tell you that that void is always there. External factors can never compensate for what is happening within.

I do my best. I have a rather healthy lifestyle, I practise gratitude, I engage in ongoing learning, I show compassion and try to be as empathic as possible to others, and I love. In fact, I think I love more than I receive love, which I used to believe was a weakness. But very recently, I was reminded that this is a lesson in the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi. So, I revisited that text, and it reconfirmed for me that this capacity is a strength. When people hurt us or when we feel alone, it can be easy to forget this. This is something that I want to underline. I think that possibly the more we try to help others, the more it can help us get through life.

This week, I have seen a lot of messages urging people to check in on their friends and relatives. Yes, we must all be there for each other in whatever way we can. But some people will not or cannot open up about their issues, even if they want to. And it does a great disservice to the person in distress if we centre ourselves and demand that they let us help them, rather than asking them what they need. Late last year, I hit especially hard times emotionally and could no longer cope. I sought professional help. I was very fortunate that I could do that, as psychological services are not accessible to everyone. There were some very lovely friends who checked in on me and some not so lovely people who suggested that I was just being dramatic. One even accused me of faking depression for attention seemingly because I didn’t kill myself (she had centred herself in my narrative and had become enraged when I refused to allow her to make my mental health about her). She and I no longer have contact.

It can be difficult to trust people and open up to them; some of us have abandonment issues that already make it hard to trust, and not everyone is genuine when they encourage you to lean on them, which can reinforce the idea that we shouldn’t let anyone in. I no longer see a therapist, and I no longer discuss my mental health with friends. I’ve learned that I’m on my own, no matter how many people I have in my life, so talking no longer helps me. However, talking definitely helps others, and I would encourage those individuals to find safe people to whom they can talk.

Thanks to the help that I received, I trust myself more now. I don’t think I’ll ever kill myself. But the truth is that many people do. We can talk all day about ways that the system lets people down and what means of support we should offer, but there is no fix that will work for everyone. What I can say is that instead of judging those who do end their lives, it would serve them and us to try to show compassion. I saw something yesterday that gave me hope. Someone had posted on social media about how any religious person should know that Anthony Bourdain is in hell because of the decision he took. Numerous Catholics in particular replied that their religion teaches them compassion and forgiveness, not condemnation. People who attempt or succeed in ending their lives, people who self-medicate and become addicted to substances, are not weak or selfish; they are in pain. There is a lot of suffering in the world. We can choose to ignore it, but that is our coping mechanism or indifference, not someone else’s weakness.

I believe that many things in this world need to change. But I think it is unlikely that humans will pursue any drastic changes. I’m not especially moved by the articles that have been coming out this week about treating depression and the like. Many of them centre the state, not the people who need help. Believe me, I wish there was some magical solution to help people fear death more than they fear life. What I can tell you is that sharing numbers for hotlines is usually not helpful—not when you’re speaking to an adult who has been dealing with issues for years and who is well aware that such resources exist. Telling them how much it would hurt you if they were to end their life is not helpful either. Guilt may prevent some people from taking that step, but it won’t alleviate their pain. And invalidating their feelings and dismissing their struggle is a really bad approach. If you don’t want to hear about someone’s issues, that’s fine; don’t make pretences, because you will cause hurt.

Just hope for the best for each other, I guess. Respect everyone’s humanity and right to live with dignity. Allow people to speak for themselves. And listen with the purpose of understanding, not to dispense advice. But if someone asks for advice, feel free to give it. That is the best I can come up with. The truth is that some people won’t make it. No matter how wonderful a friend, partner, sibling, parent, etc. you are, no one is a saviour.

We all hear words of encouragement at some point in life that it’ll get better. This is a lovely thought, and maybe for some people it does. But everyone’s experience is different. For me, things have not gotten better. As I said, I’ve been dealing with feelings of hopelessness and despair for as long as I can remember. I would pray to die in my sleep before going to bed at the age of six or seven. What has gotten better is my ability to understand myself and where I fit in to the world, which helps me manage when things get rough. And I think that’s really as good as it can get. I actually wish someone had told me frankly when I was younger that life is really hard and it may always be hard, and you can’t expect others to love you or care for your well-being.

Happiness is no longer something I view as a destination but as something that comes in particular moments in life that I cherish. I also pray sometimes, and while I pray that I will fear death more than life, I mostly pray for the well-being of others. Caring for people and animals and wishing the best for them is one way that I enable myself to feel a sense of calm. None of this fills the void, but it does help me stay out of it for stretches of time.

Writing this has also given me a sense of peace for now. If you have read it, thank you, and I hope my words have offered something of value.