Chronic Illness and Suicide

I found myself in a conversation a few days ago with other chronically ill women and we were talking about that old taboo subject of suicide. You might find that peculiar, absurd, ridiculous, sinful, or just not something you would ever entertain. We didn't find it to be any of those things. In fact, to us, it was as normal as any other mediocre conversation one might have anywhere, anytime. You see, being chronically ill can be more challenging than the joy that life brings....it's all so imbalanced. The bad days stay around so long that a good day feels like a reason to jump up and celebrate, if you are physically able that is, some folks are not. Chronic illness has this way of making one a realist, maybe it's the pain or the isolation. All I know is that suffering, even when you find others suffering and willing to talk about it with you, suffering is all-consuming physically and mentally and a positive thought can be as elusive as the memories of feeling fine are. Mind you, I am not depressed, often though I am very tired of fighting for good health, tired of having a f-king full time job of taking care of myself, of seeing doctor after doctor, of medicating, and of rarely having a free thought or moment of joy.
My best advice, when I'm not in the dark place, is to get out and be around other folks and pretend, if even for a few hours, to be normal, allow yourself to escape to the place of perfect health, if only in your mind...pretend.  Surround yourself with other beings, animals or humans, just get out of your house and into the community. There is strength and joy out there in the world in the realm of humanity, love and acceptance. Rejuvenation can come from seeing normalcy and also from seeing others infirmaries and realizing that you are not alone.  Just a few hours walking among those who are able to function on a daily basis, sure is uplifting. I think it reminds me of who I was before the struggle and allows me to breath it all in for just a little while, giving me hope and strength to carry on another day; at least long enough to forget the noose...

What I Know About Forgiveness

Forgiveness. Google that and you'll find 56,200,000 results. It is no wonder so many are asking "how" to forgive and what does forgiveness entail; maybe the answer lies with the individual. Recently, I found myself in a discussion, once again, on how does one forgive. This question was presented by a friend of mine suffering to forgive her father for molesting her as a child. I was compelled to share my experience with forgiveness. Although, I think forgiveness is different for everyone in each situation just as each loss results in a different expression of grief. I can only speak from my experience and reflection. I don't know for sure if this helped her or not, but I sure do hope so.

I had a lot to forgive when I forgave the man who murdered my sister, an incomprehensible atrocity. I was fortunate in the sense that forgiveness came easy for me. (Note that I said that I was fortunate. Forgiveness is about saving oneself from further infliction of pain and bitterness.) I was angry, of course. My heart kept saying to me that there is no way my sister could have loved an evil person; her heart was good. When I recalled the folks who had caused me considerable pain in the past, I was able to realize that they too were victims before they were perpetrators. Perhaps some of us have the capacity to evolve to the place of growth and good, despite the wrongs done to us, and others just simply don't. I'm willing to accept that; we are all imperfect beings. They, instead, repeat, perhaps in an attempt to understand, the ugly that was thrown on them. They are still very much victims though. This man who murdered my lovely sister was a victim once of hate who never learned to love himself in spite of it and therefore expressed hate outwardly in his weakest moments. I haven't, by any means, released him of his responsibility. I don't think, as some religions teach, that forgiveness means forgetting. I did, on the other hand, ask the judge to consider something more rehabilitative than a jail sentence. This was ignored. This is total forgiveness. I'm lucky to have been blessed with this capacity. I feel lucky.

I miss my sister like an image I can no longer see in the mirror. I can't blacken my love and memory of her with hate for the man who stole her life from me. I can't blacken my soul with hate for him. Freeing someone from blame equals freeing oneself from a life of agonizing suffering and remembering. I wanted my sis to continue to live within me with all the love and goodness possible, and without the hate that would be attached to her life and my memory of her if I held contempt for the thief who took her from me. And more...why continue to give someone who has committed a wrong a place in your life? If I couldn't forgive him, wouldn't some part of me be just like him?

I have been able to feel a sense of peace and compassion for lesser transgressions since this huge act of forgiveness. My spirit and heart soar with the freedom to love everyone, because of this small gift I gave myself of forgiving another. I am free.

GYPSY SONG

A couple of times a year I hear this gypsy call to go, do, run, move, make any kind of change that contests and secedes the normal mode. I feel a screaming inside me to go. I have always felt this urge, even as a young child in 2nd grade I spoke of grande plans to travel everywhere in the world when I grew up. I couldn't wait. Oddly, my life is nothing like this, instead, I am home most of the time taking care of others or getting well or working my butt off to stay well. I recently realized I often live in my mind in other places or spaces concurrent with my "real" life to satisfy my gypsy blood. You know that's usually not enough, so I begin making other changes in my life that I actually can undertake, self-improvement, re-decorating, re-do my hair, re-do this, re-create that. Create art with clay. Give me anything to move me beyond the normal daily living, the cries of negativity and political protests....give me free love and a world without boundaries.

Amazingly, I've survived the angst of the gypsy call every time. This winter was incredibly long in Colorado with the large amount of snow, high winds, and overcast days; I barely made it through. Now that I have, my gypsy is singing a loud song and getting louder everyday. What will I do to appease her singing? How will I pay her wage? I'm waiting in anticipation to feel her heart swell with fulfillment.

YOU AND I

I've been blessed with some very lovely and fulfilling relationships. From the start, I knew we were meant to meet, for the betterment of them or me, that I didn't know, and am still learning. Some of my friends give me more than I could have ever expected I needed and others simply stand up for me, get my back, and catch my fall. I often say I have been blessed with the gift of Providence and perhaps it is true. The Chinese have another theory as stated below. It does seem as fitting and as true. Nothing I could have done would have kept these lovely relationships from coming into being. Thankfully, I have been equally blessed with the desire to give, give, give as much as is needed to fertilize the blossoming of these friendships. I gain so much more in return.

When I met my husband, we both had walked in and out of the same music club twice in the same night before actually bumping into each other. Honestly, I've always felt we had walked circles around each other for months before this, and then met at just the right moment in each of our lives for the magic to begin. Supernatural, God, fate, call it what you will; whatever you do allow meetings to flow to you and receive the blessings of others.

A Chinese proverb says an invisible red thread connects those designed to meet, despite the time, the place, despite the circumstances. The thread can be tightened or tangle, but never be broken.