Suicide.

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Not a consideration, to be clear, only the contemplation of the notion. I have tried it and it has been rejected as a solution. There are times when suicide becomes a reasonable solution given a secular understanding of life. Just to reiterate, suicide is not being contemplated except in a very academic manner.

As my world crumbles, chores, task, and business needs become untenable, sleep and wakefulness become chaotic, my mind whirls in a pool of stagnant uncertainty as odd as that may seem, there is a natural creep to investigate suicide. Though I have soundly rejected the notion, at first as a personal pardon to myself after having seriously undertaken that task three times since even condemned men are given release after only two failed attempts at execution, and then bolstered by a faith which has become strong, rich, and even overriding in my life, I can never quite get away from the thought.

In spite of my current level of decay, my mind remains something which I can use. I can write my own tales and visualize them, I can pass back into time and remember the good things in life, and I can think and investigate notions. So, with little else on the menu, my mind has been going over this psychic scar from my long ago life. What is suicide, how does the idea of it settle into my mind, and why would it be a consideration in the first place. I cannot speak to all who have contemplated the notion, I am only one of many. I would strongly guess that my version of the whole failure that is suicide is quite different from many others. I am thinking there are probably 3 to 5 different "schools".

My personal affliction, and why the notion returns, is based in incapacity. I realized, when I deserted, that I was broken beyond repair. I believed it then, beyond any doubt. I knew I would not be able to function in the service any longer. I was pretty sure I could not work. I did not and do not know what is wrong, but like a man who cannot feel his legs and arms, there is something in me that I can no longer sense. It is not the will to work, I enjoy working. It is not a lack of curiosity, I wonder and doubt everything and further, I want to know. In my attempts to entertain work or study, however, I begin to fail. Actually, I fail whether I try to do something or simply try to maintain a simple life. By fail I mean I begin to tick down or up in such a way that I lose control of sleep, grooming, chores, and even coherent memory.

My attempts at suicide were bitter affairs. I did not attempt suicide without thought, without reason. I hated the notion of quitting, of death, and really despised the notion of my own death. I would like to say I wished to maintain honor, status, or something in there akin to those things, though I think the attempts were more related to the shame of the certainty that I was broken. In there as well was a fear of what was to become of me. How would I eat, where would I sleep, and all the rest of the secular mainstream notions about being a proper man confronted me in no uncertain terms. I would not be a criminal, bum, vagabond, or beggar because I was not one. As simple or silly as that may sound.

What does the secular world expect of people who cannot fulfill their duties? The socialist types, of course, want us to stay around as the foothold of their dreamed utopia, the seeds of economic destruction. The medical field loves us, if in a peculiar manner and as long as they only have economic gain concerning us, as we make marvelous living labs. But the working man suggests that we go away as inexpensively, quietly, and quickly as is reasonable. We are a burden to a functional society. Beyond, we are a potent threat to the notion that everything will be okay if you just work hard enough. Actually, I am not sure which is worse.

There is another school, not really one or the other though I think the socialist school is an attempt at a secular version of the third school. This other school accepts that we may be broken and still be wanted in a society. We are not wanted because we offer goods, if we may offering our suffering much like money this is a side issue. Our existence is good and wanted because life is good, even when it might seem otherwise. There is much more to it, but that is a primary notion. Fundamentally, this last school is the one I ended up becoming associated with, which has further strengthened my ability to live.

It took a decade and a bit more to finally begin holding my own against my own "better" notions. I wish there was advice I could offer others. I do not think advice, counseling, or other interventions work when there is a persistent logical secular reason to commit suicide. To get were I am one has to be lucky enough to survive serious attempts at suicide and then begin a religious journey. I do not think anything else works.

The funny thing is, when I hear someone discussing the fact that they hope I never consider suicide again, I am pretty sure if we exchanged shoes I have no doubt about exactly what they would do in my shoes. I actually feel sorry for their lack of understanding. Especially when, right after my assurances that I am through with the notion, they suggest I just go get a job or a hobby or something. They have no idea how strong what they just suggested coupled with inability causes what they just naysayed. Never mind, it is an inside joke only the darkest of humorists will every truly fathom. You do not have to be there, you had to be it.

Yes, the notion still occurs. But only like little fevers after having survived some persistent life threatening disease. It is a reminder that I was once in the throws of something terrible. And, like that little recurring fever, there is nothing life threatening to this. A reminder with teeth, a scar that still bears pain, an understanding of the depth of the illness which took me to such further depths. And, something to write about and share, finally, more fully.

Hmm, hungry now. Thoughts of suicide keep making me think it's time for popcorn! Ah, bugger, I am out. I will find something.